Learning the Practical Application of Human Rights

 Memories 

June 2017 at Gandhi Peace Foundation, Delhi 

with PUCL Interns 

The journey of understanding and applying human rights in real-world scenarios is a continuous one. Every case of a human rights violation brings with it unique circumstances and challenges, demanding a tailored approach. In the context of India, where the socio-political dynamics are complex and evolving, these violations are becoming increasingly frequent and, at times, more severe. Navigating this landscape requires more than just theoretical knowledge—it calls for hands-on experience, critical thinking, and empathy.

As a human rights professional, one is constantly learning—each day brings new insights, challenges, and perspectives. The field of human rights is dynamic and deeply intertwined with evolving political, social, and cultural realities. No two cases are ever truly alike; each presents its own set of complexities, requiring critical thinking, contextual understanding, and adaptability. Whether it's understanding emerging forms of discrimination, navigating legal frameworks, or responding to shifting public sentiments, the learning never stops. Engaging with diverse communities, listening to survivors, and collaborating with colleagues across disciplines further enriches this ongoing process. Ultimately, this continuous learning is not just a professional necessity—it is a moral imperative that strengthens one’s ability to advocate effectively and compassionately for justice and dignity.

I consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to work alongside some of the most respected figures in the field of human rights. Their experience, commitment, and strategic thinking have been invaluable learning resources for me. Collaborating with them allowed me to observe the importance of detail-oriented analysis in every case. Whether it’s a minor infraction or a major abuse, every incident demands a nuanced understanding of the law, the context, and the people involved.

From these experiences, I’ve come to appreciate the necessity of building thoughtful, well-informed strategies to resist oppression and advocate for justice effectively. Human rights work is not just about standing up against injustice—it’s about doing so with clarity, compassion, and a clear plan of action. This practical learning has not only deepened my commitment to the cause but also sharpened my ability to contribute meaningfully to it.

Some of the important learnings for this session are:

Human Rights are not abstract concepts. For the subjugated, the language of rights is essential for articulating everyday oppression, including the denial of basic entitlements such as education, health care, housing, employment opportunities, erosion of livelihoods, land alienation, displacement, and all forms of violence.

Against this complex hierarchy of unspeakable suffering, the rights discourse holds the state accountable and compels it to recognize the rights of the marginalized for meaningful survival.

The Scars That Speak: A Woman’s Quiet Revolution

 

Maya Angelou once said, “Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it, possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women.”

I didn’t fully grasp the weight of those words when I was in the thick of my own storm—living a reality that felt like a waking nightmare. Everything I had known collapsed in an instant. It was as though the light vanished from the world, leaving me trapped in an all-consuming darkness.

That period was marked by unbearable pain—an agony so deep, so raw, it felt like my very soul was being torn apart. It was a chapter of grief, humiliation, and silent screams, one I wished I could erase from memory. But some pain doesn’t fade. It lingers. It embeds itself in your spirit. Each day that passes doesn’t dull the wounds—it sharpens them. 

In a world shaped by patriarchal norms, society rarely allows a woman to forget. It reminds her constantly of her place, of its expectations, of her so-called limitations.

The most painful betrayal came not just from strangers, but from those I once believed would shield me—family, colleagues, friends. Those in positions of power who could help, instead, looked away—or worse, twisted the knife deeper. At times, it felt like I was standing alone, abandoned by the very people I thought would stand beside me.

But here’s the truth that emerged from the ashes like a phoenix: I survived.

Through the searing hurt, through the silence and solitude, I endured. And in that endurance, something powerful awakened. I wasn’t just surviving—I was transforming. Each scar, each emotional wound, became a mark of resistance, a badge of resilience. Where once there was only sorrow, now there was strength. My pain became my power.

These scars, though invisible to the eye, carry stories. They tell of a woman who refused to be broken, who faced the darkness and chose to rise, again and again. And in rising, I found a new kind of freedom—not the absence of fear, but the refusal to be ruled by it. I began to imagine a different world—a freer one. One where women are not silenced but heard. Not shamed, but empowered.

This, I believe, is what Maya Angelou meant. Courage is not the absence of suffering; it’s the quiet determination to rise despite it. When a woman dares to take a stand—even unknowingly—she becomes a beacon for others. She becomes the voice, the hope, the fight for every woman who has ever been told to stay silent.

In reclaiming myself, I was reclaiming space for others, too. That is the legacy of courage. That is the revolution of simply standing up. This is my version of feminism.