My Name is Kavita and I am not a Feminist!

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!