Let’s be honest — if you’re a woman, queer, or anyone who dresses even slightly too “bold” in India, someone somewhere will call you a slut. Maybe it’s a random uncle’s stare in a Pune café. Maybe it’s a stranger’s DM after your club photo from Bangalore. Maybe it’s that silent judgment on the Mumbai local when you show a little skin and too much confidence.
I’ve heard it all.
And now, I print it — on a top.
The Indian obsession with “good character”
We’ve built a culture that worships control. Control your tone, your laugh, your clothes, your body.
We’re a country that can sell fairness creams and condoms on the same TV channel — but still gasp if a girl says the word “sex” out loud.
In metro cities, people pretend to be modern. But step out in a micro top in Koregaon Park, Bangalore’s Church Street, or Andheri, and suddenly everyone’s “progressive” ideas start glitching.
They want the vibe of freedom, but not the sight of it.
We’ve confused modesty with morality, and that’s where the real shame lies.
The queer and the bold — the new face of shamelessness
Walk into any gay party in Mumbai or drag show in Bangalore — and you’ll see something electric.
Boys in heels, girls in harnesses, non-binary babes in mesh — all just being.
And yet, even within our own circles, I still hear people whisper:
“Too much skin.”
“Too slutty.”
“Attention seeker.”
You know what I say?
Good. Let them look.
Attention means visibility. Visibility means power.
The queer community has always used fashion as rebellion. Crop tops, bralettes, fishnets, glitter — they’re not clothes, they’re a statement. A scream that says: I exist. I’m hot. And I’m not hiding.
Slut-shaming is the new censorship
The word slut was made to silence us.
To remind us we’ve “crossed the line.”
But guess what — the line was imaginary.
I get DMs saying, “Why make it sexual? You’re better than this.”
No, babe. I am this. And I’m proud.
I run besharmiontop.shop, where every top carries a confession — sometimes funny, sometimes filthy, always fearless.
We print words people are too scared to say:
Slut. I Am Top. Daddy’s Girl. Born in Heels.
Because if society insists on labeling us, we might as well wear the label and make it look hot.
Owning your shamelessness = freedom
Slut-shaming only works if you’re ashamed.
But once you own it — once you walk into a bar in Pune wearing a top that says “Look at My Face Also” — it flips the power dynamic.
You’re no longer their joke. You’re their fantasy and their fear.
And that’s where confidence begins.
Not by covering up, but by showing up.
My customers tell me, “Sunaina, people stared when I wore it.”
Good. That’s the point.
The gaze has always been there — now it’s on your terms.
India is changing — slowly, shamelessly
Pune has queer mixers, Mumbai has drag brunches, Bangalore has underground fetish nights — we’re learning to celebrate desire out loud.
Still, slut-shaming lingers in family WhatsApp groups, HR emails, and random men’s comments.
But every bold outfit, every confident queer person, every “too-much” top is pushing that boundary forward.
We’re not waiting for acceptance. We’re creating it — one top at a time.
So wear your Besharmi.
If they’re going to call you a slut anyway,
might as well look stunning while you do it.
Wear what they’re afraid of —
because being bold is the new being good.
