The voices of dissent have only
got louder since the release of films like Pink and Parched. A much-needed
dialogue between women and those who love to harbour stereotypical sentiments
about them has achieved volume thanks to the growing awareness around gender
bias and women emancipation. And yet, even as a woman I feel wary of using the
word ‘feminist’ to identify myself or my stand. Recently, rising star Alia
Bhatt was randomly derided for washing her hands off this tag so much so that
she had to come out with a hurried explanation about how she was a feminist but
was not actively supporting any such campaign at the moment. What she had
probably meant by her denial of being a feminist is that she did support feminist
instances but did not outrightly like to be called one. I know women who
although may not accept it aloud, have secretly decided to shed this label
altogether, simply because with time, it has unfortunately got associated with
constant male-bashing and intolerance for anything that is remotely not in the
woman’s favour.
As a teenager, I was often
exposed to jokes about how women made bad drivers and how they were so poor
when it came to navigating their way around roads. I took them sportingly having known quite a
few bad women drivers myself. Gender stereotypes and certain impressions that
stem out of generalising the tendencies of one sex to pull someone’s leg is
fine once in a while especially because, a little sense of humour never really
harmed anyone. What is more difficult is staying within one’s limits and not
crossing the line, where one gets chauvinistic, derogatory and offensive
towards the other sex. And I am deliberately not leaning against one gender in
favour of another here simply because I don’t believe that just because it is
mine, or it is a trending topic, I must take it up. There was something called
peer pressure we were known to succumb to in our college days. Now it seems to
have translated to feminist pressure. So
if I say something that may not suit
this kind of forced dominion, I will come across as someone who doesn’t care
for her fraternity!
So if I am not a feminist, who am
I? I have long tried to uphold the virtues of letting women be. When we ask for
freedom against prejudices deep-seated in our cultures, demand equality of pay
and wish for the same opportunities that are presented on a platter to men, we
aren’t really asking for much. It doesn’t really need much effort to put a
woman towards the path to progress. She is not required to be treated any
differently from a man to see to it that she prospers and blooms in to a
successful, independent individual. All she needs is breathing space and a
liberal approach to her upbringing. She is capable of driving her inner light to
illuminate her life in the right direction. So like I said, all that is
required is to just- let her be!
And yet, we are constantly at a
woman’s throat, from the time she is born to the time she lies on her funeral
pyre. We must dictate how she must walk, what she must wear, how much she
should eat or not (given the numerous fasting and other rituals she has to
undergo to redeem herself in God’s eyes), what age she should get married at, who
she can hang out with, what time she should come home,whether she should pursue
a career or not, how many kids she should mother, what she should further
abstain from once a widow and so on. We have reduced her to a mannequin to be
ogled at, an idiot with no mind of her own and in worst cases, a slave. My professor of journalism, P Sainath,
scandalised a class full of girls when he once said that in India, the most
unfortunate are the poor, followed by women. To our determined, self-respecting
and educated selves, this seemed a gross oversight but little did we naive
individuals realise, that what he had stated was in fact, the exact truth.
Throughout our mass communications course, we were unconsciously being readied
to take on a world that will objectify, underestimate, criticise and perhaps
even condemn us. We were not only taught to enhance our skills, but go out with
the right attitude to battle all kinds of evil. If all this made a feminist out
of us, and if we were able to channelise positive energy to make things work
for us, well, great.
Having said that, I have seen
women take men for granted. I have seen them torture other women employees
under their supervision due to feelings of insecurity and envy. I have seen
them use their feminity and charm to elicit special favours. I have seen them
manipulate their husbands emotionally to get that diamond ring for Diwali. I
have seen them stare down at men who will not vacate their seat for them in an
overcrowded bus, even if they are occupying the general category seats. I have
seen them willingly let themselves be pawed by men in titillating videos and
then cry foul over it. And I have seen these very women force their housemaids
to work extra hours for meagre wages. As women, we have come a long way already
in terms of making a mark in every field today, but this is just the start and
we have a lot to achieve before calling it a day.
So let’s not lie back on our
laurels just yet. Let’s not wear that ‘feminist’ tag with pride and let our
bosoms well. Let’s not pat ourselves on
the back on showing the men the door. Because that is not the point of
feminism. Putting men down is not the way to rise up. Making them realise and
accept our worth so we can co-inhabit this world and reap its bounty together
is what will define our victory. And let’s not undermine the contribution men
can make in order to help us get there. If both genders must co-exist, we must
do so with mutual consent, love, respect and understanding. So drop any label
that makes you a pariah or your cause assume negative connotations. Like my
male friend put it, “If I pull out your chair, you think I consider you too
weak to do it yourself. If I don’t, I am ungentlemanly and inconsiderate. What
am I supposed to do?”
The last thing we need for men to
be hit by is a socio-cultural dilemma about how to treat us if we deem
ourselves ‘feminists’. If he pulls out your chair, thank him. If he doesn’t,
shrug it off and do it yourself because you can. And while we are it, don’t
mind if he wishes to pay the cheque and refuses to go dutch. You can always
treat him next time!
