Delhi Gang Rape: A Medley of Thoughts

TOI calls her Nirbhaya—the Fearless One. 12 days on, she’s putting up one of the most inspiring fights I have seen in recent times. One thought, in the beginning, presumptuously, that the nation was behind her, with its prayers and encouragement. Now I feel humbled and think that perhaps the nation is drawing strength from this 23-year old girl, this epitome of indomitable spirit, who survived a bloodcurdling assault, is fighting intestinal gangrene, sepsis, breathing difficulties and psychological trauma, and who is alert enough to give statement not once, but twice.

Shame on the powers-that-be that put her through this ordeal twice; for putting her in the cross fire of accusations and counter accusations that only brings the corruptness and ineptness of the establishment and administration into sharp focus.

The swell of protesters in Delhi asking for justice and safety for women is heartening on a couple of accounts. As a friend put it, the tree is being shaken up. Today’s youth feel empowered and engaged enough to take to the streets to make their voices heard and participate in our democratic process.  I am also happy that a semblance of democracy still lingers on in this country so that these protesters can get out on the streets and not face tanks and machine guns of the army, but only tear gas and water cannons from the local police.

Small mercies, these.

It is tragic that while the educated youth want to talk about corruption and safety for women and children, there is nobody from the other side to talk to them. We have only politicians, inured in caste and regional politics, who apparently have no skills to communicate with them. They seem to think that if they looked away long enough, this new phenomenon would die out on its own.

One can only hope that Indian politics would catch up soon. Because these voices don’t seem like dying down, but are getting more articulate every day. I have read some excellent blog posts in the aftermath of the Delhi gang rape, especially written by women.

The most relatable post I’ve read on the subject is “Subjugation Capital” on http://daddysan.wordpress.com/ which goes on to describe the length and breadth of the molestation and harassment girls and women go through in Delhi. She says, “There isn’t a single moment when you’re walking its streets that you can think ‘I’m safe, I can breathe easy and enjoy the sunshine. What a lovely day!’ If you have breasts, you’re fair game. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’re from, how old you are, you can be a man’s property. You can be used for his gratification. You can be dominated.”

I relate to it because it is not just Delhi where women face this. I faced this every day in Madurai for seven years. I’ve also had my rage and resentment belittled by men saying, “But what’s so great about your abuse? All women face it!” As if the collective experience somehow legitimizes it and that women shouldn’t bemoan this but just get on with life, be normal and happy.

The fact that a lot of women do brush this aside and get on with moving forward is not because it is an easily handle-able experience; it’s because what they have set out to do is far more important than getting defeated by deterrents, however de-humanizing and spirit crushing they are.

Lakshmi Chaudhry of First Post says it for all of us: “Indian women have come a long way, baby, and they have no intention of retracing their steps. Be it call centre workers, sales clerks, mid-level managers, or high-ranking executives, they know that their new-found freedom can be hazardous to their life. We women have merely decided that we’re not going to let that little fact hold us back. And there’s nothing a Mamata or Chautala can do about that.” (Read the full post here.)

The only troublesome aspect in this entire protest narrative is how attire is getting mixed up in it. The patriarchal side puts the blame of rape and assault entirely on the “provocative and revealing outfits” that modern women wear. The protesters hold up banners saying “A short dress is not an invitation for rape.”

Nothing is an invitation for rape or physical assault. Rape is of course a punishment meted out to women for challenging male dominance and not sticking to the paradigms intended for subjugation and oppression.

But IMHO, a short dress is an invitation to objectified, to be reduced to a set of tits and ass, to conform to the male version of female beauty, to participate whole heartedly in the politics of skin and not really a sign of emancipation.  I am paraphrasing Germaine Greer, probably anachronistically, but smooth hairless skin, long legs, tiny waist, full bosom, nicely curved bottom, high heel shoes, and bikini wax is not a real woman, but just a male fantasy.

Should we be taking to the streets for our right to be part of this?

Personally, it is not that we live in a patriarchal and misogynistic society that frustrates me; it is that there has been so little of work done at the grass root level on education, population control, health and nutrition in large swathes of the country that makes me froth at the mouth. My maid has five daughters; my cabbie has four. Both of them are stuck in some dark age although they live in Mumbai. Their women are not educated; are not allowed to work other than as domestic help; they are not allowed to go anywhere on their own; and still get married before legal age. My cabbie feels family planning operation will lead to cancer; my maid thinks eating greens will make her daughter put on weight. My cabbie doesn't take his kids to a doctor when they have chicken pox, lest the goddess gets angry; my maid casually talks about how she and her daughter got beaten up by their respective husbands. I will not be surprised if they had aborted a few female fetuses between the two of them.

The sheer scale of the darkness is stunning and speaks volumes about successive governments' lack of intent and action for more than half a century. It is so sad that it makes me mad.