Every time i see anyone famous talk about, comment on or write an open letter to Kangana Ranaut i LOL. It is comedy at its simple, slapstick best and reminds me of a hilarious bit from an old Indiana Jones movie. In the scene Harrison Ford, the hero, is confronted by a man twice his size and wielding a deadly sword-machete style blade. Unfortunately for the baddie Mister Ford is younger, smarter and more nimble and so he reaches for his gun and shoots the villain in the chest. And that is exactly what every one who has taken Kangana on in recent years looks like – the comic relief who bumbled into a gunfight brandishing a penknife.

Like many men and women i love Kangana and when i grow up i want to be Kangana. Her presence elevates a film. She is so good that it’s a relief our film awards are rigged because if they were based on real ability she would have to win every single time. But while Miss Ranaut is talented, ambitious, articulate, honest, direct, and beautiful (all traits i believe i can develop very soon) this is not why we are obsessed with her. It is because she is that kid on the playground who stands up to the bully. She is our living, breathing feminist fantasy: a real-life David in a world of fuddy-duddy, has-been Goliaths.

Sadly in India we don’t celebrate such women, instead we try and find a way to control them. And because in this case her livelihood and career are unimpeachable the keepers of our misogynistic value system (aka The Ladylike Police) have decided to go after her propriety – apparently she is not dignified and is using her dirty laundry for PR. It blows my mind that a women can be treated in a blatantly undignified fashion yet must maintain unrealistic standards of decorum when fighting back!

And when the Ladylike Policing fails, as it has, the sexists retreat to that one word they love to put women down – crazy. You see anger is the male prerogative and women are allowed to display it only when defending children or in some equally noble pursuit. Anything less and we are psychos. So maybe we women should view being called crazy like it’s a compliment. It means you have their attention, that you have got under their skin and, best of all, that you have made them act and sound a little crazy too.