Blog-a-thon 2006 - Nenju porukudhilaye indha nilaiketta manidharai ninaithuvittal

hennai is my city, my place, the only one I call home.

But isn’t home where you don’t dress up, where you prefer to lounge in your pyjamas? Isn’t home where you don’t have to be eternally conscious of the way you sit, how you walk, what you wear? Isn’t home the protected territory, a place where you can let your hair down and sing, or dance or jump or just be yourself?

After nearly twenty one years of deluding myself that I was living at home, I moved to US and suffered the worst culture shock of my life. A shock at finding out that being harassed on the streets is not a part of normal life. A shock on realizing that I can walk with my fists unclenched, that I don’t have to be paranoid about any guy who walks near me. A shock at the culture back home which accepts harassment as being normal and had brainwashed me into accepting it, to be silent, to be frightened, to be confused, to feel guilty, to feel ashamed and helpless and to cringe everyday in fear of what is in store.

Nenju porukudhilaye indha nilaiketta manidharai ninaithuvittal.

Anji anji savar, ivar anjadha porulilai avaniyilae!

My heart cannot bear to think of this fallen crowd

Who are scared to death of everything in this world.

I was part of the frightened crowd. I wonder why I never reacted, I wonder why I never complained. Why did I take it with nothing more than brimming eyes and a nasty taste in the mouth?

I don’t know.

For that rainy night when I ran towards a lighted shop seeking refuge instead of poking my umbrella at the motorcycle wheel and bringing the idiots to a bloody crash,

For that travel in the bus when I clenched my teeth and unsuccessfully tried to stamp his feet instead of turning around and screaming or slapping,

For that time when I looked away instead of staring down the cowards,

For the countless times that I tried to armor myself with my backpack instead of punching their face with it,

For all those times I cowed down and walked to my house instead of taking the bus,

I write this post.

I refuse to be scared anymore. I refuse to be harassed anymore. Street harassment is not normal. It is sickening. Don’t take it.
This is part of the blog-a-thon initiated by Blanknoiseproject against street harassment. Go and read many more tales there.

Action Hero Dreamweaver

http://swarangal.blogspot.com

Post Blogathon thoughts

As a woman, it was cathartic for me to write about my own experiences. At the same time, as a blogger, I felt that my post had nothing new to say. So many women were writing the very same thing. And then I realised, that’s the point , isn’t it ? All of us women, from various walks of life, talking about virtually identical experiences. Which just goes to show how ubiquitous street harassment is.

Another thing that made my stomach churn was that nearly ever post began with “I remmeber when I was twelve/thirteen”, and some even with “I remember when I was eight”. Children. We were mere children, innocent kids, girls. And our innocence was stolen in an instant, leaving us bewildered and suddenly aware of the world.

Extempore says,

Do you know - this is the first time I’ve ever spoken about these things publicly. My family, not even my brother, still does not know they’ve happened to me.

I read that, and I just wanted to reach out and hug her, because I know. I know how that feels. The inability to express that fear to your family. The hidden secrets that have never been spoken. There was a reluctance to transfer my fear, humiliation and anger to my family. I felt that it would be best to forget, to ignore. An impossible task. And I wonder how old I will be before the secrets spill out …

Some have questioned the purpose of the blogathon saying that bloggers in general belong to a category of people who do not indulge in such activities, and the blogathon will teach them nothing. I point them to Karthik, who admits,

I’ve seen a lot. In buses and movie theaters, upscale malls and vegetable markets. From catcalls to breathing down the neck, from elbowing a fellow passenger to things a bit more than elbowing. Everytime, a silent “What the…” and I’ve moved on. Sometimes, not even that.

I do not think that street harassment is restricted by class or by education. It really has no boundaries. All the nameless, faceless people who play the villains in our posts have come from all walks of life. Young and old. Poor and rich. Illiterate and educated.

Patrix says,

I do not wish to project an image of suave machismo but I guess the sense of protection accorded to the womenfolk is hardwired into the male genes. How can some men transcend complex biology and stoop to the level of inflicting the treatment that they wouldn’t tolerate on their loved ones on to other women is honesty beyond me.

So many times we talk of guys acting too tough, too macho. Being overly possessive and protective. The ingrained me-big-man-me-protect-little-woman instincts. Where are these instincts in the bastards who feel us up ?

Annie talks of the rules – some spoken, some silently understood – that govern the very way we live. That mock the freedom and independence we claim on the basis of our education, our intelligence, and our strength. Aishwarya talks about being dependent on her guy friends to drop her home at late night. The dependence on men, that is necessary. And that embarrasses our embrace of emancipation.

Sujatha wonders,

Why are not women seen as another being, having the right to walk carefree on a street or ride on a bus and to reach their destination without being abused, assaulted and battered, without feeling frustrated, guilty, angry, simmering with rage, reconciled to being violated, tearful, afraid for their safety, feeling like shit, feeling dirty, or without feeling like an object of someone’s uncontrolled lust?

Why indeed ? Is it no wonder that I have no desire to return to a society that treats me like this ? I never thought about it, but certainly this would be an unconscious factor driving me away from returning. Thalassa Mikra rightly terms us the world champions of sexual hypocrisy. Why would I want to return to a place where my daughter will be humiliated in this way ?

A wise man, viz. Saltwater Blues, says,

A women is like a flower, and the moment you attempt to violate her, you are causing harm to something that adds beauty to what is otherwise a very drab world.

A mushy thought, but I wish more guys thought that way.

Action Hero Ashweeta

http://www.adashofash.com

'that sort of women'

A lawyer I was interacting with in the course of an internship, once said that women who get into trouble with drunk boys in cars, while waiting for an auto on their way back home, are the sort of women that are looking for that kind of trouble.

It is intriguing that large sections of our communities think that public space is meant for male sexual aggression, and women who seek to access the public space without any believable reason, are 'that sort of women'.

Women who stroll on the roads on lazy afternoons, or meet friends over beer- that is, without any partcular need to be out in the public sphere- must all be 'that sort of women'.

Everytime I think of sharing my story in the public sphere, I think they must all think I one of 'that sort of women'.

What else can a woman be called if she trusted someone in a college campus, to chat once in a while with him, drink and smoke with him? Dance with him at a party? What else can a woman be called if she thought he got the message the first time around, that she wasn't looking for anything sexual, but if he wanted to hang around, chat, be friends she'd be more than game?

What does one call a woman who thought he got the message and ventured to chat with him when both were quite high at a party again... of course, it was her fault that in drunken stupor she did not resist when he made the advance. What did she expect- that in the middle of an advance, if she protested, tried to get out of the situation, a man would hear of it? Of course, no man would... if she had to say NO, she should have said it in the beginning... she should  not have acted friendly with him, she should not have agreed to chat with him away from the crowds....

'THAT SORT OF WOMEN DESERVE THIS SORT OF THING'.

I am not as angry that this happened to me, as I am angry that there is virtually no support mechanism for this kind of an incident. It's almost like I voluntarily put my foot into the lion's den, so I deserve the attack. I am angry that large numbers of people believe that I must not live my life the way I want to, because men have the right to unfettered sexual expression/aggression, that men never have to respect my personal liberties, but I must always look out for their excesses....

Thank you blanknoise, for giving me a voice...

Action Hero Atreyee

http://anglophilicbong.livejournal.com

For Blank Noise Project: Scraps

The following post is for the Blank Noise Project Blog-a-thon which seeks to record testimonies, thoughts, analyses etc of street harassment. Please go read what other people have to say too. There are some really horrific, insightful, intelligent, despairing, heart-breaking posts out there.

---------------------------------------------

Written in 2002.

I don't want to be here. Odours silence my restive cries as my mouth opens and closes several times like a fish. I lay still on a red and black seat - torn in places with cotton peeping through - as disembodied hands slide under the red tee-shirt I thoughtlessly chose this morning. Reality borrows the clarity of dreams, but disposes of the promise to wake me up. From the corner of my eye I can see the taxi driver through the rear view mirror looking forcefully at the streets ahead of him. I know I will die today. I know I will be cut into four pieces, tucked into a V.I.P duffel bag and tossed into the Arabian Sea."You're so beautiful..you're so beautiful", the words segue into noisy orgasms that only I can hear. I'm losing track of what's happening. A tongue entangled in mine...cars frantically making their way to work....my bra is being masterfully unhooked...we're taking a left turn...maybe it's a right turn...? "You shouldn't dress so provocatively...because..you're so fucking beautiful..fucking beautiful..." The rest of the sentence merges into the restlessness of a Bombay weekday. Abruptly,the cab stops at a red light. He sits up straight, stretching his hands. Then, he opens the door and steps out, peers in through the slightly open window and smiles. "Thanks".

*****************************************
A few months ago, I was at Bandra station at about 6:30 in the evening. As I made my way through the throngs of clammy chaos - dodging stray elbows, lewd comments, lecherous stares, "accidental" run-ins - I spotted a group of young men congregating by the rickshaw stand. I made a mental note to stay away from them; they wore the kind of sneers that meant trouble. A few minutes later, I saw a girl barely 18 or 19 years of age. As she walked by them, the young man closest to her reached out and hit her breast forcefully with the back of his hand. The others laughed exaggeratedly and congratulated his audacity with high fives. The girl - like everyone else who'd witnessed the incident - simply walked away.

I wanted to see if she was okay, but she'd scurried into a rickshaw already. Regardless I knew exactly how she felt. I knew her eyes were probably stinging with tears of frustration, humiliation, helplessness, anger. I knew that she regretted walking away, that she was probably rehearsing an appropriately scathing response for the next time it happened. Worst of all, I knew she knew that there would be a next time.

I don't know why we're so apathetic to street harassment - the majority of public spaces in this country are cesspools of misogynist behaviour. To me, being leered and leched at is as much a part of my every day life in Bombay as brushing my teeth. I'm not even really sure what gratification someone gets from calling a female passer-by a "saxxxxy item." You've all heard the feminist rhetoric before but it all does go back to power; they get off on knowing they can get away with their impudence.

It's only recently that I've realised that "eve-teasing" - I hate that word with a passion, but there it is - is actively condoned by Bollywood. I get the feeling that when a 15 year old whistles at me, he half expects my initial spurn to transform into perfectly choreographed pelvic thrusts, with hot-pink clad dancers mimicking my every move.

No, seriously, who remembers the song "Aankh Maare?" or "Aaja Meri Gadi Mein Bait Ja?" or really, any of the other 5462 Bollywood songs where a roadside romeo follows (read: harasses) a girl, interpreting her blatant lack of consent as coyness or irritation or a personality quirk? He is, of course, right and eventually she falls desperately in love with our eve-teasing protagonist who turns out to be quite the paragon of virtue.

I'm not saying, of course, that it's all Bollywood's fault, but my point is that we live in a culture that breeds and encourages sexist behaviour. We teach our daughters to "dress properly" and "behave modestly" but why can't we teach our sons to be more respectful, less aggressive?

In the words of one of my favourite sociologists, "The rules of masculinity and femininity are strictly enforced, and this difference equals power. The difference between male and female sexualities reproduces men’s power over women and simultaneously the power of some men over other men, especially of the dominant, hegemonic form of manhood – straight, white, middle class – over marginalized masculinities. (…)"

I used to carefully calculate my outfit before leaving the house - I had to make sure my shirt wasn't too tight, my bra strap was safely invisible, my jeans weren't too low, my skirt wasn't too short - and despite the (positively oppressive) precautions I took, I still got pinched, poked, grabbed. Day after day after day.

No more.

Now I wear what I want because it doesn't make a difference. I didn't ask for it, I don't ask for it. I never will ask for it.

I try relentlessly to stop feeling shame, to treat my own body with the respect it deserves. It's an arduous journey, but slowly and not without setbacks, I - like several other women I know - am getting there

Action Hero Aurina

http://tuvaorbust.blogspot.com

No.Stop.

for blank noise's blog-a-thon 2006

:lets start from kashmere gate station, delhi. though i would invariably board from paharganj, somehow my return trips would always dump me at kashmere gate. in a whoosh, autowallahs, cabbies and all sundry would envelop me. not unnatural. then it would come. every single time. "madam, kahan jaayenge? kahan, madam? majnu ka tila? chalo, hum chod dete hain" i would walk rod-straight. NO "nahin, bhaiyya"s and all. still it would go on. "koi nahin, madam. majnu ka tila hi jana hai na? sau rupai. bas. aap ke liye." i would just focus on the pre-paid counter, now a few metres ahead. "chalo, madam. majnu ka tila ke liye free. bas. aayiye." a peel of laughter and sniggers would ring loud. every single time. the ordeal of a woman on a street anywhere in india has started. it becomes tougher and nastier if the woman is a north-eastern to boot. double 'fun' for the men. double trouble for the woman. for the uninitiated, majnu ka tila is a prominent red-light area near north campus, delhi university. the sex workers of that area are invariably from sikkim, nepal, north-east india etc; in mainstream lingo 'chinkies'; in mainstream mentality 'cheap, easy girls'. jabberwock talks about the divorced women as easy prey. north-eastern women anywhere in india (except in the north-east) have to face double, treble, qaudruple the same 'easy prey' mentality. on streets, schools, colleges, offices, friends' houses, parties, restaurants etc etc.

: north campus. am standing at a divider. i have to pop in at srcc for some work. a maruti 800 is racing up, full blaring music. not unnatural. before i realize it, a mineral water bottle hits my right knee. a lusty chorus 'oye, chinki' follows.

: noida mod. am again standing at a divider. i have to cross the street and get a bus. it is dark. a black cielo pulls up. not very natural. window rolls down. a well-dressed man behind the wheels. he takes out a wad of notes and then, "oye, chinki, kitne mein aayegi?" full-throat laughter. zips away.

: coming back from iit. safdarjung bus stop. a man behind me. "do you want to go for dinner? five-star hotel?" i ignore him. its dark already. i take a mudrika. after an hour or so, i get down at camp. the same man again. "special dinner. five-star". i walk straight to the first traffic policeman i see at the signal. the man disappears suddenly.

this is just delhi. i have more to say about bangalore, mumbai, kolkata, agra, shimla...

Action Hero Bem

http://liklasa.blogspot.com

Harassment - Blog-a-thon

What do you do if you are not someone who has been harassed, or have not seen anyone be harassed? That is more a question to me than to you. I guess there might be something right there.

Most of these incidents that I have read have been harassment where the victim's response is muted and does not draw attention to the harassment when it happens. Perhaps, in a society where people take their perceived self-respect a little seriously, they continue to engage in this behavior not because they won't get referred to the police, but they won't even evoke a whisper. At least in all cases where the victim knows what is happening to them, and can raise the issue. I think that might have made the issue claimed to be present everywhere to be there on every mind too. Won't you think that would help?

It would be a good question to ask, how can men (since they form the significant problem) who commit harassment change? I fear not. At least historically better judgment has dawned on the 'bad guys' only at the end of the struggle. For example, take the Indian independence, or Segregation, the untouchability issue, or the feminist movement. The way forward is for people who are compassionate to rally behind the cause, not just in the streets, but every place, including work, home, and temples. The issue then will receive the attention of the society and no one can neglect, and people who had been committing these crimes will know to not just stop, but some may even be won over to rally the cause.

There are many factors, many reasons for why it is so, many ways to break it. This issue and every other issue that we face needs persistent effort from us if we are to make earth a better place. Now, I go hopping on to the blog of the fellow bloggers in the blogathon.

Action Hero Bharath

http://weeklyedition.blogspot.com

Speak Out

I was about 12-13, I think. I would join a friend who lived nearby and we’d walk to the neighboring naval colony to play hopscotch with our school friends. There was a small gang of scruffy looking boys who’d lounge by the roadside and snigger at us as we passed by. And then one day as we walked home, we found huge hearts drawn in chalk on the road, with our names and rude comments inscribed within. We were mortified, and furiously tried to rub the marks away. But they remained, jeering at us for a few days. I was most ashamed that the sweet old auties and uncles who knew us would read those disgusting words ont heir daily walks.

That was my first memory of eve-teasing/harassment – an experience that is perfectly normal, and indeed expected, by an Indian woman.

When I first started traveling in Bombay – using the buses and trains, I was 15 and still naïve. Men would stand too close, or brush up against me, and initially I always wondered if I was being overly sensitive, and that perhaps the crowded situations were to blame for these ‘imagined’ touches. But bitter experience taugh me to trust my gut instincts and never, ever second-guess myself.

There are incidents too many to recount here. There was the time in an over-crowded bus when I felt a stranger’s fingers creep an inch under my loose top and stroke my waist. I whirled around, only to find a dozen male strangers nonchalantly minding their own business. Who could I blame ? Then there was the time when I was sitting in a crowded bus seat on the side, and the man standing next to me kept using the bus’s motion to shove his crotch in my face. The many times when I’d travel in a crowded train compartment and feel the men pushing against me as we struggled to get out of the compartment. Rarely was there a clear perpetrator whom you could identify and jab with your elbow (or even better, your umbrella), and create a hue-and-cry.

And sometimes even that didn’t help matters. The offense so quick and fleeting, the perpetrator so nonchalant and quick, that I would be left in humiliated self-doubt and frustrated indignation.

Another touchy issue is dealing with the stares. Those utterly male stares that mentally strip you and make you feel completely exposed. The leering grins that make your teeth clench. The salivating looks that make your toes curl up. That make you want to shove your knee in their groin and scratch their eyes out.

And it’s worse when they were in groups. All that co-mingling testosterone seems to bring out the predators in them. The less dangerous ones would pass insolent remarks, or sing demeaning Bollywood numbers. The more dangerous ones would stalk you, and follow you around. I was plain enough to not attract such stalkers, but I have friends who suffered.

I have always worn an invisible armour in India. Apart fromt the universal fear of death in dangerous situations, was a fear, unique to women, that cloaked me all the time. An armor that I shed when I came here to the U.S. Oh don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of dangerous places here too. But the danger is of losing my life. And the danger of being an immigrant. But rarely the danger of being a woman. I went back to India this Decemeber, and found myself wearing that lost armor again.

The funny thing about all this is our general attitude to it. It is something that we women expect to experience. We ‘modern’ women may have stopped taking it lying down, and take action when we can. Nevertheless, it’s a sad fact of life that eve-teasing is a normal part of life. We Bombayites even considered ourselves luckier, because at least we weren’t like our sisters in Delhi – who’d travel in busses with their arms crossed at their chest, pointed needles poking out of their fists at either side!

We must recognize eve teasing as a crime, something that may be normal, but nevertheless unacceptable. And the responsibility falls not just on women, but equally on men too. I’ve found that a lot of these boors prey on women, only because they take advantage of the skewed power balance between the sexes. Add a man or two to support the woman’s side and the cowardly perpetrators will quietly slink off. Male or female, our job is to speak up. Us womenfolk have to treat eve-teasing as absolutely unacceptable and speak out against every act of harassment. And you men cannot stay silent – you must speak up, speak out, speak against. Do not stand quietly by as such things happen. Use your voices.

Blank Noise is doing a good job at this. They’ve organized this Blog-A-Thon to bring attention to the issue. Do join in with your own posts, comments, thoughts.

Action Hero Ashweeta

http://www.adashofash.com

Sexual Harassment

A group of bloggers in India have come up with a commendable blog-a-thon initiative called the Blank Noise Project. The idea is to get as many bloggers as possible to write about sexual-harrassment-on-the-streets and post it by Tuesday, 7th March. It is hoped that the coming together of so many different voices - cutting across gender, race, culture, language and countries - will, somehow, raise greater awareness of the problem as it exists, and succeed in painting sexual harassment for what it really is - a criminal offence.

It's a great idea but the problem is, the boundary lines of sexual harassment are not clearly defined as we would like it to be, and this creates its own difficulties. If one has to define it as a criminal activity, then, one has to know the (immoral) parametres within which it resides. Not an easy task if one probes the issue under a microscope and ask some unsettling questions.

Where does admiring a girl end and sexual harassment actually begin? What is that thin line that divides the terribly romantic from the hopelessly depraved? When does a seemingly innocent touch become a humiliating gesture? Why do women erect these barricades of self-defense when a man looks at them admiringly? And why - on earth - do men inspire such low confidence when they approach women with hearts full of love and passion?

The last question is easy to answer because men, in general, have had such a miserable track record as far as promoting gender equality is concerned. Somehow we have goofed up so royally that women have no choice but simply misunderstand our motives. After all, some of the most vocal men have proved to be those who allow their crotch or their hands to do the talking, and others who may not be so explicit in their gesture but are those who firmly believe that a woman's place is at the bottom rung of the ladder.

So where does that leave the rest of us who think differently? Do we have to first apologise on behalf of our gender and then state our case? Sometimes it may seem we have to do just that to make our presence and argument palatable but I disagree. I don't think we have to adopt this 'poor-me-am-just-the-oddest-man-alive' approach and say that we are sorry for all the scums of the earth. Why should we apologise for them? Why should we bear responsibility for their actions? Why should they be our definition?

Alright, I just needed to get that off my system.

But going back to those other questions, I guess, we need some clarity or we'll continue wading through the muddle till kingdom come. Or will we really?

At the end of the day, it's pointless for us to break our heads and try and come up with a precise answer because it is simply not possible. There is bound to be someone who'll take offence at something or the other. Codes of conduct usually have that kind of effect upon those who are obsessed with legalese. And the end result is a petrified society that's afraid to fully and freely express itself emotionally. At least, in the matters of love.

So what is a man going to do if he is interested in a woman? What methods would he have to adopt to impress his heart-throb without running the risk of being accused as a lecher? Is it possible to be hopelessly romantic without being perceived seriously annoying?

Yes, it's possible. And the one word to make that happen is, respect. A man - any man, really - must learn to respect not just the woman he is interested in, but all women who manage to inhabit his vicinity. Respect is not a complicated word or one that requires a PhD in behavioural psychology to figure out its intricate details. Respect is all about 'doing to others what you want to be done to you'. Respect is all about treating a woman like the human being she is, created by God in His image and worthy of honour. Respect is knowing that giving space to the other person is as much important as the need to draw the person closer.

Respect is all about...

not grabbing a woman's breasts just because they are there,

not undressing her with one's glares and crippling her confidence in the process,

not pinching her buttocks because one feels like it,

not stalking her on a 24/7 basis and leaving her a nervous wreck,

not making cat calls or wolf whistles at her for one simple reason: she is not a dog but person,

not assuming she is an easy lay just because she turns you on,

not making any presumptions inspired by wet dreams.

But most important of all, respect is ALL about knowing when a woman says no she means no. Period. A woman's 'no' is not 'maybe' or an orgasmic 'yes' but it is a down-right categorical NO. Quite simple to understand, right. Sadly it isn't. Most men have trouble understanding this concept and, hence, they resort to harassment as a way to reach out to women. Of course, some men harass because they are basically warped and looney or both. But there are many others who don't have a clue about how to behave themselves in front of a woman. They need the fear of God put in their hearts, and to be constantly reminded that their actions are a criminal offence and inexcusable.

Will this bring about change? I am not sure but I hope it will because the present situation is very frightening for millions of women to whom this is a reality they have to endure everyday.

Shame. Shame. Shame.

Action Hero Ashish Gorde

http://ashishgorde.blogspot.com

And you call that eve teasing?

I still remember that day. It was a cold winter evening, around 6 o'clock. I was taking the DTC bus 588 to go to my nani's place. It had started getting dark. I was just a couple of bus stops away. The bus, like always, was crowded. Since I was sitting at the back, I got up to move towards the front door, otherwise you sometimes miss the stop.

As I moved, I felt someone trying to brush up against me. I looked around and gave a stare to the man behind me while trying to rush through. Within seconds, I felt it again and now the guy just stuck on to me. I felt sick and yelled hard, giving him an indignant look. I generally try to create a scene by yelling so that I bring it to people's attention and the person generally stops due to embarassment. It always worked. But this time it did not. The guy yelled back at me using abusive words, to my utter shock and continued. No one said a thing. Everyone was looking though. Like you watch a goat sacrifice. This has to happen. This is its destiny. Our prayers and wishes for you. But we wouldn't raise a voice. Perhaps we don't have one. I felt scared but I was also angry. I shouted hard for the bus driver to stop the bus, I wanted to get down. The driver stopped the bus for me, thankfully.

Or I thought. That guy got down behind me. By that time, I started losing my nerve. I could feel myself trembling inside. I did not expect it to stretch like this. Since where I got down was just a few meters ahead of a bus stop, I tried to rush to the stop. There were people there. I tried to hide around behind people, poles, shadows so that he couldnt spot me. He was looking for me though. And all this while, I was thinking, what to do next. A bus was out of question for obvious reasons. There were auto-rickshaws. I quickly decided to take the auto. I ran, and asked an autowallah if he would drop me at Lodhi Road, I would pay more. He agreed immediately. But to my shock again, this guy came out of nowhere. He grabbed me by my shoulder and touched my face with his hands while talking some abusive stuff. I shrieked with fear, shook myself off and tried to get into the Auto. That guy started forcing himself inside the auto. And the stupid autowallah was watching as if in an eternal dilemma of what to do. I jumped out of the other side and ran across the road. And I dint see whether there was traffic coming. I just ran for my life. Thankfully,I remembered that I had an old batchmate Ruchi, living very close by. I just ran to her house. Things were fine after that. She pacified me, shared her experiences and dropped me to my nani's place.

I could not muster the courage to take 588 for almost a year after that. I was 19 then. After a few years when we bought a car, I stopped travelling by buses in Delhi completely. And I have never boarded a bus since then. Not that I have not had experiences in other places, but you just do not want to be part of that crowd specially when you know no one would do a thing in your support.

I sincerely appreciate the Blank Noise and support the cause whole-heartedly. 

Archana Bahuguna

http://archanabahuguna.blogspot.com

Preventing EveTeasing

Reading people's blogs and my own comments and my experiences walking home yesterday has got me thinking as to whether our whole attitude towards eve-teasers is skewed. Whether we, by our attitude, are actually encouraging them, rather than protecting ourselves.

Ive read so much in the last couple of days about the travails that women face, especially in intensely public spaces like railways stations, more so than streets, and ALL of them, even this suspenseful, sensitive one by Anil Purohit, talk about how women are forced to shrink into themselves and become as small and invisible as possible to focus the male gaze on as little of their body as possible. And I understand, because it's a natural instinct to want to run and hide.

To all these women I would like to say: I understand, I've been there enough times. But there's only so much you can do. I know that all of that which you are hiding - your legs, your breasts, your ass, even the glow on your face, will be folded into a snug little bundle in the area between your chest and pelvis, and held close to your womb. But do you not realise, that your physical self is not reducing in size? You are not protecting your body, merely putting it and your mind more at edge by compacting your tension into one contracted, shivering explosive area. Making you more jumpy and aware and hence, prone to offense.

By shrinking into yourself thus, you are simply giving the eve-teaser more space to invade into your territory, more room for his confidence and arrogance to expand. In a crowded place on the street, the sexual perpetrator is simply a bully. A bully by definition is one who picks on weaker, smaller people. Besides, a bully has no power against those who stand up to him. In such cases, he merely cowers or run away.

A woman may be smaller in size, but she is certainly not smaller in aura. When I said attitude was the panacea for this problem in my post to commemorate the Blank Noise 3 posts ago, I meant it. Attitude is not only in your core, but also in the periphery that is manifested in your physical being.

I was walking home from the parlour yesterday - a ten-minute walk - in tottering high heels. It was 6 pm - peak travelling time and I had to traverse dug up , crowded sidewalks and cross a busy intersection and walk. I tend to walk ramrod straight, very tall, face facing straight ahead, nose up, only looking down if the pavement is bumpy or Im in deep thought. And even then, I do it with a full awareness of men watching, which they invariably do. (The music helps me zone out and relax, of course). Yesterday, I noticed that I do maintain basic courtesy in not being in a hurry, in letting people cross, and in making sure I dont accidentally touch anyone. It is very easy to develop agility in dodging. I also noticed that while a lot of men look at me, they generally don't touch. Now this led me to think: why? I got felt up a lot when I was younger - I was fairly tall then as well, so I was possibly more vulnerable because of my age and lack of awareness. Is it because my sense of self has evolved greatly through the years and this has manifested itself in my mien?

I really do believe I have a subtle force field around me because no matter how close men get as they walk past, they just don't touch me. (of course, this field is blatantly invaded in Shrinathji temple at Nathdwara because the temple is always sooooo crowded and you're simply swept away from the door to the corridor by the force of the crowd). Or at least their brush is rendered inoffensive. I think it also helps because I look straight through, and not away from men, if I happen to catch their eye.

It's been studied scientifically, and results show that women who behave very confidently, who walk tall, who acknowledge their molester by turning back and looking, who display no reaction, such as quickened pace, facial nervousness etc., who even stop and let the potential molester pass, are less likely to be molested. That's the first thing they taught us in self-defence in college, and throughout women's studies. They do recommend we yell for help, fight back, but concentrate on getting away most of all in case of attempted assault.

If you do get eve-teased and wish to complain, a woman has the right to not go or be held up or questioned overnight at a police station between 6pm and 6 am unless there are women officers there and she has been ordered by a woman officer.

You're a woman, you're naturally beautiful. You have curves, you have softness. They cant help looking at you. But you have every right to NOT be violated. And to prevent that, you have to start with yourself. If you make it a big deal, that your supposed, socially-upheld but actually imaginary 'honour' is at stake, you're actually giving them a situation thats more of a challenge to them, and therefore, a prize that's all the more valuable when, despite all your resistance, they manage to violate you.

I know this requires a complete overthrowing of the belief system that has been imposed upon us by social pressure and actually coming to terms with a lot of aspects of the female self that is simply not addressed except in the terminology attributed to a wife or a mother. And you know what? It's completely okay!!!

Action Hero Aranyi

http://aranyi.blogspot.com

March 7 : Blank Noise

Today is the Day, one day before Women's Day, in which we all make noise and kick some ass about that most routine and yet accumulatively humiliating type of sexual harassment that women are subjected to the world over: Eveteasing.

Shout out to the Blank Noise.

*

I vaguely remember the first time I was harassed on the streets. It stayed in my mind because it was a novel incident that I didn’t know what to make of, and because I was not aware of my body, my spirit as a sexual being.

It could have been possibly when I was 13 or 14? Boys had started looking at me with some amount of interest, nice boys that is, and I didn’t know what it was or why I liked it. I was just me, the girl whose mama forced oil on, the girl with the big plastic glasses who read in the bathroom and loved puppies. And it made me feel nice and want to include them in my Mary Poppins technicoloured dreams. But I hadn’t been aware that men would too. Men were a world removed – a realm of ideologically distant fathers and uncles, and faceless strangers one didn’t bother about.

So it was a rather rude shock indeed when slowly, the mirage in which I dwelt threatened to crash down around me as the impudent leer “Ayy sexy” sounded around the vicinity of my year. My budding breast, cocooned in the breathable fibres of my literary space, that had always created a diaophanous barrier protecting me from the world, was jolted into reality by the jolly shoulder of a faceless man. My insides widened as I walked on reflexively, while he disappeared into the heaving railway carriage of passengers that comprises Mumbai streets.

I didn’t know what to think. At that moment a flurry of questions swept around in my blood. “Did he say *gasp* sexy?”, “Did he mean me?”, “What is sexy anyway?”, “How can I be sexy?”, “It must be a bad ‘adult’ thing”, “That means its bad if I’m sexy”. But these thoughts were forgotten soon enough as exams loomed on the horizon and study and friends put an end to my meanderings around my house.

The second ‘memorable’ incident occurred when I was 16. Fresh and blooming in every respect one could think of, which men took no time in taking notice of and trying to appropriate, however evanescent the possession was. I was walking to Sterling Cinema, hanging on the arm of my first boyfriend, my everything in the world, when I felt my breast being rubbed in a way even he hadn’t dared to touch by a file of three men who roughly brushed past, who muttered something about my sex. By then, I was old enough to not be spared the implication, and the humiliation drove me to the verge of tears. I couldn’t believe my ears when my boyfriend, attempting to allay my pulsating emotions, said that in a way he felt proud that men considered his girlfriend attractive enough to want to touch. I felt like screaming that they HAD succeeded! And that they were not the sort of men I would WANT to touch me! I felt betrayed, not just by a stranger’s disrespect but by a loved one’s pacifism. That night, my imagined invisibility was shattered, as was my feeling that I could be secure even with someone who passionately declared his love for me.

For I realized that a woman is only a person in societal imagination, and after much much abuse. She is a commodity when unattached, and symbolic property when attached. She is the elusive trophy in the perennial territorial game between men. A stranger’s brush against her body signifies a kabaddi-esque penetration, and bears an unspoken challenge, one that usually walks away defeated. Even if the stranger is confronted by the male companion of the woman, and is even beaten up and reduced to apologetic pulp, he has still won the set, though his future sporting career is questionable.

I’m not a commodity that can be cleaned with a simple superficial caress when its sullied! The clear muslin of my mind both holds and allows experiences to seep through, rendering each more concentrated in its separate identities.

I had been gifted with a not only a horror of penises, from the constant fondling ‘down there’ that I was forced to witness, to an octogenarian chasing us, pulling apart his dhoti and rubbing himself, but also a repulsion for my own body and the sexuality it represented. I was afraid to wear shorts, to wear sleeveless tops, to breathe too hard, to run, to in any way make my presence conspicuous. I felt as though a burqa of black canvas were snaking around me, stifling my freedom.

Till suddenly, it all changed. But one day I felt free of the binding, of the stares, of the murmurs. I discovered the delightful portability of music, and the world became my ramp. The rhythm taught me control of my steps, the words once again transported me to my erstwhile alternate universe, as I dodge the passersby oblivious and at peace.

I realized that I don’t WANT those experiences. And I don’t have to have them. The panacea for all evils is the mainstay of this decade, and that lesson is ATTITUDE.

There are times when I still need to hold on fiercely to the few remaining shreds of my silken cocoon, but it is precisely those dreams that protect me by a hair’s breadth from the careless tearing hands that long to strip me to my bones.

Those dreams that taught me to walk tall. To look straight towards my destination. To not apologise for what nature has made me.

I am a woman, and I am beautiful. You can look – you can’t help it, poor thing, but YOU’LL be damned if you touch.

Action Hero Aranyi

http://aranyi.blogspot.com

Of Women and Men

There is no privilege like the male privilege. We are born with it. It is like a birthright that is biased against women by its very nature. Men and women are treated differently right from the day they are born. So different that in quite a few places in India, the female child is killed; sometimes as sacrifice to the Gods asking for a male heir. That is an extreme case and most urban, middle-class families would distance themselves from such practices but it does not mean that the longing for a male heir does not exist in their minds. And boy (pun unintended) do they wish it! In the cities, they are more sophisticated and female infanticide becomes female foeticide. I am not against abortion but what I am against is the selective abortion of children based on this privileging of the male child.

Even if women survive this initial period of their lives (over which they have no control over whatsoever), they have a lifetime of segregation to face. They would have to hear comments like, "you have to learn cooking because that's what will help you keep your husband happy" and "you are just a visitor who will leave for another home soon" and "what will you do studying so much; they will not help you", almost all their childhood and adolescence. This is still overt and there are subtler ways of putting a woman down. Even if you do not say those above words, those intentions and thinking behind those words would still be there and is quite perceptible to children who are so sensitive to adult behaviour.

Even if a woman does get educated well by her family and does manage to get a job in the world, she faces problems just because she is a woman. Women are harassed on the streets, in public places and there is nothing they can do about it expect carry pins and respond violently to the harassment. One feels disgust reading the testimonial of Annie and that of others who have responded in the comments with stories and anecdotes of their own. I have blogged about this before and you could also follow the link there and read the stories there too. Today is March 7, 2006, a day declared by Black Noise as a day for Blog-a-thon 2006.

Of course, this is not the only the only problem that women face in the male-dominated world but this is one of those problems that pervades their life everyday, at all times, and something that they are vulnerable to.

As a man, it disturbs me to see that it is so pervasive and so problematic to women and it seems to be quite universal. Every woman has a harassment story. Most women face harassment every single day. It seems to be a socially sanctioned practice that hampers the everyday life of millions of women. I take special care on buses to stay away from women because I am afraid that I might unknowingly/unwittingly cause mental stress in the woman standing next to me just because the driver thought it was prudent to brake so hard. In Madras, there were special 'Magalir mattum' (for females only) buses that used to (still might be in operation) run during rush hour that alleviated the stress that women felt in the mornings going to colleges and offices. I strongly recommend such buses as I do not see the situation improving overnight. I used to wonder why educated women would leave a prospect of a promising career and become housewives but the more I read the testimonials of these working women, the more I realise that it is not such an easy question to answer.

How do you tackle this problem? There are numerous suggestions that keep popping up in my mind.

1. Make legislation that metes out harsh punishments to people who harass women.

2. Spread awareness of this issue and how women feel about this in society

3. Learn marital arts and beat up every single person who does something undesirable.

4. Take their pictures and post them in a public place like Holla Back NYC (it does not necessarily have to be a blog. It could also be a news channel) and hope that it embarrasses them so much so that they won't behave like that again.

The problem with the first suggestion is that there is already existing legislation does not seem to be effective. If it was, 'eve-teasing' would not be called by its harmless sounding name and it would not be so pervasive that Indian movies would not show them as a valid wooing technique!! And there is one story by a female commentor on the one of the above mentioned blog posts which seems to suggest that the police are indifferent to this kind of mistreatment of women. The problem with this kind of offence is that of proof. How will you prove that a certain person groped you? How would you convince the people who saw the whistling/eve-teasing to come with to the police station and testify? How would you convince the policeman that you were not over-reacting and you don't want to just let it go? In other words, how would you break the barrier created by gender stereotypes that typecast women who fight back against such men as evil, conniving, lying feminists who hate all men?

The second suggestion is what Black Noise is all about and I think it is the most effective one because it seems to target the thinking of people in society. Spreading awareness of this issue is an important step towards making the world more equitable for women. Changing the perception of the people is a slow process, one that is probably going to take a couple of generations and it does not alleviate the problems faced by women today.

The third suggestion is something that is already in place. Women do learn martial arts to be able to defend themselves on the street but it cooks my goose that they have to live by jungle rules to be independent, working women! It seems to put the onus of defending herself on the women and seems to suggest that men would always be like that and women should expect such behaviour from them and they should defend themselves as it is unlikely that the society would come to their help. Saying that, it is still a very practical approach and one that is strongly recommended. Martial arts / expertise with handling pins / using heels as toe-busters are all useful skill in the present scenario!

The fourth suggestion is a question of feasibility. If you take the picture of the guy who is harassing you, he could easily misconstrue as a statement of interest and harass you further. Also, no public place is that public, is it?

Saying all this, I wonder about all the men who do such heinous work. What do they really think? I suppose there might be some distinction amidst them. There would be the gropers, the whistlers, the starers, the 'eve-teasers'. It is not necessary that all harassers do all of this. There would be some who would 'eve-tease' thinking it is just teasing but they might never grope. Most men are starers, particularly when the object of their stare is at a distance and not looking in their direction. But even here, there is finer distinction. There are those who make it a point to stare and hang out in public places to leer at women passing by, there are those who do not do it regularly but would leer if some well-endowed woman passes by, etc, etc. But I think that in all these cases, the problem is the same - the objectification of women. And our popular media seems to reinforce that idea in the minds of the people. The bollywood movies, the remix videos, the bangra videos, the fashion shows, etc, etc. I personally think that the image of women in media has to change. Today, I saw an ad in the paper that shows a woman with a child on her lap, talking to some one on the phone, and working on a laptop, the tagline was "Women can multitask. Blah blah blah." The implied meaning being that men can't multitask. Such an image of women serves as an excuse to expect them to do all the housework, take care of the baby and pursue a career. It is either this or the portrayal of a woman as a vamp whose overactive sexuality lures men left and right.

Given all this, I am surprised that women don't screw men over whenever they get the chance (some women do but not all) because men (again, not all men) screw them over (pun intended) all the time. I am also surprised that in spite of going through all this, they never say all men are like that (and it is true). I wish Black Noise all the best in their efforts to change the perception of the world and I hope that we can make a better world where men and women would be truly treated equally.

Action Hero Apurva Mathad

http://apurvams.blogspot.com

Street Harassment

When I went back to Delhi in the summer of 2005 a fleeting thought passed my mind while packing my clothes – maybe I shouldn’t pack my tank tops and skirts. I had been living alone for 6 years in San Francisco, wearing whatever I felt like, going wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. And it was going to really hot in Delhi. I was confident that I could tackle anything that came my way.

In Delhi, I was warned against wearing shorts to the gym so I wore my track pants the first day. I almost passed out from the heat while working out and resolved to wear my shorts the next day onwards. I wasn’t about to let fear of being harassed interfere with something as mundane as a good workout. I came up with a theory that if I appeared confident and unafraid, no one would harass me. I glared at any men who came too close and sure enough nobody harassed me.

This gave me the confidence to venture out alone to Connaught Place. I wore a knee length skirt, hailed an auto rickshaw and made my way to meet my friends in CP. On my way there I noticed a man on a motorcycle driving beside me and staring. I didn’t give it much thought and just looked away. When I got off the man also got off his bike and accosted me. He asked me for my number. I was taken aback but thought he was on of those “I would like to be friends with you” guys. I walked in another direction but he wouldn’t go away. I was zigzagging through cars trying to get away. He shouted at me “What do you think you are? I know exactly what you do!” I was too confused to react. What did that guy mean? What give him any indication of “What I am?” I looked around at people thinking if they would protect me if he tried anything funny. Fortunately I spotted my friend and walked towards her. As I was telling her about the incident the man disappeared. She told me that while she was waiting for me in front of the Wimpy’s an uncle-ji tried to feel her up. She even pointed him out while we walked away.

On my way back I kept watching out for any motorcycle that stayed with us for more than a couple of miles. Nothing had changed since I was a fourteen year old girl afraid to walk home from my bus stop after school. Everyday in the bus, as we neared my bus stop, I would start dreading the walk home. A nearby school ended at the same time and a group of school boys would harass the girls passing by. They would shout obscenities and throw stones at my feet. I used to look forward to examination days when I got home earlier and didn’t have to pass by that group of boys. I was jealous of my cousins who had an elder brother who walked the same route with them. He once chased a boy who teased his sister and beat him up. I was jealous of my twin brother and sister who also walked together. I tried to get my mother to pick me up from my bus stop but didn’t know how to explain the mental turmoil I went through everyday. One day on my way back, after I had passed the group of school boys, I turned a corner, and a man turned towards me and flashed me. That day onwards I started taking a longer route home just so I wouldn’t have to pass that corner again.

When I turned eighteen I was ecstatic to start learning to drive. I could now drive and never have to walk or take auto rickshaws or the most feared – DTC Buses. The joy didn’t last long when my driving instructor surreptitiously started touching my breasts while changing gears or turning the wheel. I wasn’t sure how to tell my parents that I didn’t want to learn driving from that instructor. I asked my dad to teach me driving but got into a small accident. I had to continue my lessons with the driving instructor.

Now when I think of these incidents I can’t imagine why I didn’t take action against this kind of harassment. But as a girl in my early teens I lacked the confidence and maturity to deal with these incidents. I was too embarrassed to discuss any of this with my parents. I just learnt to go to any length to avoid a group of boys loitering on the streets or to make up excuses about why I need my grandmother or cousin to be in the car with me while I learnt to drive.

When male friends from Delhi narrate stories of eating paranthas at 1 am on the roadside or playing holi with friends on the streets, I am amazed. These are luxuries that I could never afford. They are amazed when I tell them that I only traveled in a bus once. They automatically attribute it to me being a rich spoiled brat and I prefer not to tell them the real reason. I would rather repress the thoughts of one of the worst experiences of my lives.

I can only begin to imagine how traumatized my sister could have been during her teen years in Delhi. After having lived in the US for two years when she had an opportunity to visit Delhi, she refused. She desperately wanted to meet our family but was too scared to go back. I convinced her to go but she fretted for days leading up to the trip.

I thought I would be able to deal with such harassment as a mature woman now. I was not a scared teenager anymore. However, in Bangalore on a trip with my parents, when a man started running his hand up and down my leg, I could do nothing. If I told my parents I knew my dad would get in a fight with him. I didn’t want him to get hurt. I just kept scooting closer and closer to my sister till she asked me what the matter was. She switched seats with me since she was wearing jeans and stomped on his hand. After all he couldn’t complain either.

I once started researching Sexual Harassment in India to write a paper for a class called “Women, Minorities and Law.” During that research I found out that “Eve teasing” is a termed coined and used only in India. I never wrote that paper, it was too painful. I sometimes day dream that incidents of street harassment would air on television and men would be forced to face the guilt. They would be made aware of the trauma they cause. I’m not sure when that day would come but Blank Noise is definitely a step in the right direction.

Action Hero Anshu

http://atthespeedofmythoughts.blogspot.com

If,When...until them

Yesterday, I was filled with a deep, deep sense of despair.

Never, in recent memory, have I felt this numb, this deflated. As I read, account after account, after abusive account - from women and men and the children we have been - I was engulfed by a frozen sort of exhaustion.

Account after abusive account on Blank Noise led to more windows opening up into my own memory - this happened to me too, at ages six, eight, nine, ten, eighteen, fifteen, twenty-five.... all of this and more. That man, that place...

Writing the last post, I had thought I was making the token gesture - how difficult could it be to speak up, anyway? If I can live it, I can talk about it.
Talk about something that's choking our gender-divisive culture, something that is making monsters of us when it comes to sexual attitudes and liberties.

When the comments started pouring in, I was a little overwhelmed. Then the downpour became a deluge, and now, I am very quiet, very sad.

Because... that these 'strategies' I had written of, in part-horror, part-rage, with a sense of bitter irony, should be taken as 100% serious advice.... could anything be sadder than that?

One part of me wants to un-read it all - all those hundreds of stories here, in the comments and those entries for the blog-a-thon. As if un-reading it, could undo it.

But for all that, I have more to say.

If we're going to build a serious debate around this issue of abuse (please let's give 'eve-teasing' a grand burial right now. This minute. The word has no significance, no relevance, no place in our experience), we need to talk beyond the rage, beyond the sharing, beyond the opinions.

Because if we stop here, then we might as well have never started.

The first thing we have to deal with is the definition and scope of 'harrassment'.

We may recognize that each individual has different needs for personal space and different perceptions of appropriate behaviour, BUT if we're going to take a legal stand, insist upon pan-Indian, or even global standard of behaviour as a norm, we're going to need specifics.

Is staring/ ogling/ checking out/ leching wrong?

I don't think so.

Does it make me uncomfortable?

Yes.

A man leering at you through the evening can ruin your party. But I also recognize that this bothers me more in situations where I know the leer can easily turn into a grope.
Besides, there are many occassions on which I have 'checked out' members of the oposite sex (no pun intended, she says, biting down a smile). I want to continue to have the right to look at men, appreciatively or just to guage the attraction quotient. Men have the same rights, then.

Is whistling, passing comments, singing songs wrong?

No.

Does it annoy me, as a woman?

Sometimes.
But I recognize that the man is not phycially or psychologically damaging me in any way, and so he has a right to whistle, sing or comment.

EXCEPT when the words turn abusive or sexully violent. Verbal violence is punishable by law. Threats are punishable by law, and there is no reason a woman(or man) should have to hear any.

Is touching wrong?

Yes.

When you touch a another person without his/her permission, you run the risk of violating the person. If you touch them in places that are - in normative terms - regarded as sexual areas, therefore off-limits for those who do not have sexual rights over you, this person will be perfectly justified in snarling, snapping, slapping or otherwise reacting violently to your gesture. You could also be punished for it legally, though we - as a society - must come to some sort of agreement about what punitive action is fair, or deterrant enough. (One blogger - I'm confused about who - suggested community service. Picking up trash. Scavenging. I think that's not a bad idea, actually.)

I also believe that we Indians already recognize this, cultural conditioning be damned!
That is why there are many more incidents of feeling up/groping/pinching in crowded places like buses, trains, bazaars, footpaths - where it would be hard to pin blame, where one can pretend it was all an accident. That is also why men will take fewer chances if a woman is accompanied by a man, but will grope and pinch with alacrity if they're in a big group themselves.

Is following/stalking wrong?

Yes.

I have not figured out the precise definitions for this, but legally, at least, there is a precedent for disallowing stalking. (And we really must learn to use the word 'stalking' instead of 'following', which sounds like a benign sort of thing a cute puppy-dog might do, when he isn't nipping at your ankles.)

Is propositioning wrong?

I don't know.

We are swimming in slightly murky waters here. Almost all relationships begin with a proposition of some sort. (This, incidentally, is the same line adopted by every single stranger who has come up to me with a proposition for 'friendship') Almost all of us have accepted some propositions at least partially, tentatively, from some trusted people.

I personally do not blame the stranger who walks up to me, saying he wants to have sex, or offers to 'buy' me. He is only asking me a question. I find it offensive - but I think we, as women, must also learn to question the reasons for our taking offense at such a question. Why are we so insulted if somebody equates us with, or treats us like, a prostitute?

(Speaking for myself, I find it equally offensive when I am asked my religion while entering a temple or a mosque, or filling up a government form. In all honesty, I think the latter is a far more dangerous question).

But when I have said 'no', and this stranger persists in making his offer, it does amount to harrassment. Then, I have the right to tell him to get lost. If he doesn't listen, I have the right to drag him to the law enforcement authority.

Which brings us to the cops.

The police is known to be unsympathetic. I think we should lobby for the police to be especially trained in dealing with instances of harrassment and I also think that the women's cell of the police should be prepared for complaints against their colleagues who fail to treat a victim of sexual harrassment as they should. The battle will be uphill at first, but a few prosecutions should set a precedent. Precedents are good weapons.

And yes, I believe training and counselling does help.

I have been to a police station alone in Delhi - fighting off my own instinctive misgivings - and have found at least one bunch of officials to be polite and non-lecherous, even though they may not have been as quick and efficient as I want them to be. I was later told that some sections of Delhi police have been slowly workshopped into behaving with a modicum of courtesy. If this is true, bless the workshoppers.

Some people have spoken of clothes and the impact they have on harrassment.

From personal experience, I know there is no direct correlation.
The first incident I mentioned, when I was 13, occurred when I was in frilly frocks and still had ribbons in my hair. Almost all later incidents have happened when I have been in shalwaars and full-sleeved kameezes.

Strangely, the rare times when I have stepped out wearing short skirts and tank tops, men have kept a slight distance. I fail to understand this paradox. But I do have a hypothesis -
When I am wearing a short skirt in public, I give out a signal. That I am not meek. I'm not your regular bhartiya naari and that you cannot count on my being a placid, accepting victim.

Many more men stare at bare shoulders, bare legs... many more women stare too. But, in my limited experience, few men dare to touch a woman they're shocked by.

And yet, knowing this, I find myself hesitating. Worrying.

I bring out my short, revealing clothes every week, try them on and put them back in the cupboard. This is not because I will attract potential molesters. This is because I know that IF there is an attempt, I will be held responsible. I will hear 'but look at what she's wearing'.
I do this because my own women-friends come up with quasi-insulting statements like 'you don't like clothes, do you?'. Because I've been told that there's a time and place for every dress; high heels and bare shoulders are only okay if you're at a private party, amongst friends and are getting picked up and dropped off in a private car.
I've been told and I cannot shake off the fear that IF something goes wrong, I will be humiliated even further by allegations that I was 'asking for it'.

THIS fear is what we have to counter.

We begin by watching our own tongues. When we see a girl in a mini-skirt in the train or in the vegetable market, we stop saying 'ohmygod! what's wrong with her?'. We have to stop telling each other 'your bra strap is showing'. (It's only an effing strap! Give me one good reason why it should not show?)

Sure, the change will take time. But the change must come from us. From everybody who believes that a person has the right to not be molested, whatever the circumstances.

Some other men mentioned feeling ashamed. They are angry that all women view them with suspicion, contempt and fear.

All I can say, is - the burnt child dreads the fire.

Or like we say, doodh ka jalaa chhaas ko bhi phook-phoonk ke peeta hai.

Besides, the nice men are in a bit of a minority. I can recount more than ten incidents of harrassment, right now, without having to dig into the darker recesses of memory. Listening to other women, I'd say that ratio is fairly average. If there are ten wrong-doers for every one victim.... you do the math.

Can you imagine the scale of this gender's collective fear? Where is the room for rational behaviour, or trust?

Yes, this too can change.

For every man that tries to grope me, if there are five men stopping him, it will change.
For every small gang that roams the streets looking for somebody to harrass, if there are two small gangs on the lookout to protect, it will change.

For every woman in an oversize t-shirt, walking with a file across her chest, if there are a hundred who refuse to cover up, refuse to de-sex their persona, refuse to slouch, it will change.

For every family that tells a daughter 'don't go out alone at night', if there are fifty families who send their girls out at night, armed with the determination to have fun and the confidence that they're not going to be the only women out alone, it will change.

For every woman who scurries past, head bowed, if there are ten who strut, and smile at nothing and everything, it will change.

When we have men and women talking to each other without being censured for it,

when boys in school are taught to take permission before touching women,

when girls in school are taught that it is okay to give this permission, if they want to,

when both genders can interact without fear of ostracism or moral policing,

it will change.

Until then, I leave you with these lines by Dushyant Kumar:

"sirf hangama khadaa karna meraa maqsad nahin

meri koshish ye hai, ki ye surat badalani chahiye.

mere seene me.n nahin to tere seene me.n sahi

ho kahin bhi aag, lekin aag jalni chaahiye"

[My purpose is not to simply create a furor

this attempt is to try and change our situation.

And if not in my breast, then let it be in yours –

it doesn't matter where, but the fire must burn]

Let's keep this fire burning.

Action Hero Annie Zaidi

http://knownturf.blogspot.com

Streets,Stories, Stratergies

I had my doubts about blogging this - writing about street harrassment.
After all, it's as common-place as paan stains, as ubiquitous as spit.... Will my saying 'NO' to harrassment prevent it? How does telling my stories serve any purpose?

But while discussing the Blank Noise with a male friend (who has never maaro-ed seeti, never chhedo-fied, never sung lewd songs, never felt up, pinched, grabbed any part of any woman), he told me - "How do you know? Some teenaged boy somewhere reads this and decides not to molest women... you never know."

For men like him, I write this post.

(I have no patience for blogging dates, nor this women's day brouhaha, nor a fixed schedule that will guarantee internet access on March 7. So, I'm just going to put it up now and let it be a sticky post.)

Some things, you learn to expect, growing up a girl.

You expect to confront harrassment as surely as the sun in May and the fog in a Delhi December.

When you leave the house, an invisible snake of alert suspicion will wind down from your shoulders down your back and become a clenched fist in all public spaces, through all journeys.

How optimistic you're feeling about man-kind, on any given day, determines whether you take a bus home, or just hop into an auto, or a cab, knowing you cannot really afford it. If you really cannot afford an auto some day, you will not take the bus at rush-hour.
You'll let bus after bus after bus go past. Waiting is tiresome. But waiting is easier than bristling.

You didn't always expect to do this, of course. One learns these things, by and by.

I began learning in Bombay. Yes, that delightfully sprawling city that is so kind to its women.

My first lesson was delivered atop the railway bridge at Andheri station when I was 13 years old. My first visit to this city by the sea. The first brush with the overspilling local trains. The first time someone grabbed my 13-year old breast.

After all these years, I cannot forget - his face pudgy, more fair than dark, moustache, white shirt, briefcase in hand, big belly, must have been about 40. Old enough to be my father. I remember he had walked into me - or pretended to - and while I struggled with the shock of what he'd been doing under the guise of walking into me, he calmly walked past... just a regular uncle-ji hurrying home after a hard day at work.

What did I do?

Nothing. I kept walking on, beside my brother.... My 17-year old brother who might have picked a fight if I'd told him.... What could I have told him?... It was too late anyway. The crowds had swallowed all of us up so completely.

Some things, you learn to expect (relief is always unexpected).

Therefore, you will be very pleasantly surprised when a man takes the seat next to you, and actually leaves two inches breathing space between you, instead of pushing so close that the windowpane leaves marks on your forearm.... All the same, old habits die hard, and you will spend the journey with a clenched fist balled up somewhere in your shoulderblades, because, you never know when he'll start acting up, do you?

You will also feel miserable when the well-behaved one gets down two stops before yours - it's too much to expect two well-behaved men sitting next to you on a single trip.

But no matter how much you steel yourself to it, sometimes, you will still get reduced to tears.

Seven years later, again in Bombay, after swearing to travel only in the ladies compartment of the local train, I learnt yet another lesson : some 'ladies' compartments turn into a free-for-all feel-up-jam-session after nine o'clock at night.

Suddenly, there were men's crotches pressing into my face, my knees and my shoulders. I stood up and fought my way to the door. Only to be surrounded by half a dozen men offering to 'get me out safely'. As the train stopped, half a dozen men got on, half a dozen got off. Trapped between them for a few seconds, I lost count of how many hands felt me up.

I cried tears of rage - if only that train hadn't moved away... I wanted badly to drag at least one of them off that train and smash his skull on the nearest railway track.

Some things, you get used to. Like rage.

Your ears will be whispered into, your behind will be touched. Songs will be sung...

You will learn to laugh. Humour is a great self-defence tool.

For instance, when a boy calls out 'good morning, madam' on a busy street crossing, I laugh it off.

When a boy follows me from my office everyday, offering to marry me, I laugh it off.

When silly men accost me on the streets and demand to 'make friendship', refusing to take 'no' for an answer, offer me lifts, I laugh it off.

When somebody calls me 'taazaa malaai', 'mirchi', 'badhiya maal', 'chhammak-chhallo', 'lassun-pyaaz' (yes, even that!), I shake my head and laugh it off.

Over the years, I even learnt to focus on the merits of the songs being sung/whistled, thinking about the musical tastes of the modern roadside romeo, instead of the intent behind the singing or whistling.

But when I am walking home at night and a car full of drunk men slows down, I cannot laugh. I can only seek relief in the other car coming down the road; when that car also turns out to be full of drunk men who also slow down near me…

it is hard to keep up a sense of humour all the time.

Five years ago, once again in Bombay, I lost my humour, and learnt not to NOT do anything. At Andheri station, again, for the first time, I used violence.

A man asked me 'how much?'.

I tried to walk past quickly.

He asked me a second time. 'How much?'

I took a step forward, then stepped backward, swung around, and threw a punch.

He looked very surprised and asked 'what did I do?'

I didn't stay to explain. That night, my fist was swollen. I'd never seriously hit anyone before.

The next time two times I punched men, it was at railway stations in Bombay. In both instances, I didn't hit out immediately. It was only when they persisted a second or third time, despite my obvious disinterest.

The third time was in Kathmandu, outside a movie hall. The man touched me three times before I finally lost it.

He began by protesting - 'I didn't do anything' - and ended by saying 'sorry, sister'.
(Bless his poor sister, if he has one; I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.)

-----

Some things, you learn. Some things are shaken and scolded into you.

For example –

When walking, don't think. If you get lost in your own internal world, somebody or the other might misinterpret this as an invitation to grab some piece of you.

You stay alert. Not glaring at every passerby suspiciously can be interpreated as an invitation.

When walking, don't take quieter, narrower lanes which are more picturesque and less polluted. Those are pretty much reserved for the goonda-types and 'eve-teasers' of the city.

When walking past a parked car with the engine idling and man/men sitting inside it, step aside and put at least four feet between you and the car's doors ... don't you read the newspapers?

When lost, don't roll down the car windows all the way while asking for directions. Ask women and chowkidaars for directions, preferably.

Try not to park in basement parkings zone, if alone.

When in public - don't sing, don't smile, don't swing your arms, or your hips. It is better to wear a frown on the streets, along with mouth that looks like it can chew your head off, spewing some rather choice invective, if bothered.

Learn filthy abuse; use it.

When something is lost/stolen, don't go to the police station alone.

If propositioned in a dark, lonely spot, do not slap or insult. In a low, pleasant voice, say you're already engaged. If cornered in a really dark, really lonely spot, give him a fake name, fake phone number.

When accosted by a cop, tell him your dad/grandad/uncle is a senior cop.

If there are less than six people in a bus, don't get on. From Churchgate, at night, don't travel in Ladies first class. From Andheri, early in the morning, don't take the Ladies first class.

Don't hitchhike.

Don't sit alone by the sea for more than ten minutes.

Stop thinking about watching the sun rise over a field, all by yourself.

Stop thinking about long, leafy walks that lead nowhere.

Stop wondering how the streets looks at midnight, after a drizzle.

Stop...

I don't know where, if, and how, this will stop. But I hope it does.

---

There is another aspect to this that I can't help thinking about: it creates a never-ending trap of dependence that many men resent equally.

We women depend - are taught to depend, are left with no option but to depend - on men for our safety and survival.

We can go out, but with 'ghar ke ladke' to take care of us. The brother, husband, father, cousin or boys known to the family will escort us - to a movie, to a mall, to a party. At best, you might be able to manage if you're a big group of girls. But how many times can you walk around as girl-gangs?

We learn, consciously and sub-consciously, that we cannot do anything alone. And if we do, we're going to have wage war every inch of the way.

That lesson is etched in so deep that conceiving of 'life' alone is...
No wonder you need men. No wonder you need marriage. No wonder you cling to the man, because how will you manage alone?

Action Hero Annie Zaidi

http://knownturf.blogspot.com

Eve- TEASING!

My class. All girls. Studying journalism with current affairs-social issues-human rights-etc…It was quite inevitable that at some point of time, we would start talking about sexual harassment aka 'eve teasing'. We did. In the first week of our first semester.

Say No to sexual harassment. Voice your experiences of sexual harassment - as a victim, perpetrator or bystander - at work, at home or in the public sphere. Participate in the Blank Noise Blog-a-thon, on March 7th.

Loads of examples. All of which sicken you to the core. Leave you feeling disgusted, dirty and defiled. All about how horrible, sexually frustrated, revolting, men take advantage of women in crowded buses, lonely compartments and desolate roads.

Latest personal experience:

Feb 28th – on the way back home. Bus no. - 29c. 6.30p.m. Attire - Jeans and kurta.

Involves horrible man, with sick ‘thopa’ trying to thrust himself in my back. The jerk of the moving bus working to his advantage. In spite of moving away, he followed me, in spite of telling him to move away, he kept standing there. Thrusting. Till I turned and stood sideways with my college bag in between me and him. And then he moved on to the girl next to me. Another victim. Another chance.

I went home and had a bath.

The first time I experienced this normal part of life in Chennai- I didn’t even know such things happened. It was a huge shock to me. I refused to ever go out of the house again. When I told Mummy, she said – ‘Ya. So what? Such things happen. You have to get used to it’. I eventually did.

And people ask me why I prefer autos and don’t like buses.

What about one's own family?People who are supposed to protect the girl from this?
It is the most despicable act. To violate a women or a girl. It is even more despicable to do that to a small child who has no knowledge of what is happening. And when you are someone she's supposed to trust and love. She’ll probably think it’s a game.

Uncles, Cousins, grand-uncles, brothers and even fathers. And then there is the hazy ‘distant relative’.

A long time ago, I read an “agony aunt” query from a 19 yr old boy who by mistake saw his 21yr old sister change her clothes when he was hiding in her room. He was enthralled by the sight of her breasts. He couldn’t take his eyes of her. He used to hide in her room after that everyday, to see her change… to catch a glimpse. He was addicted, he said. He didn’t know what to do.

Calls himself a brother. F***ing Pervert. Should probably hang himself.

Once upon a time, there were four girls. Close friends – two pairs of best friends. They were always together. A and B went home together. In the train. C and D went home together. In the bus. Then, B began complaining that there was a man bothering her in the train. He got on at the station A got off. He used to come everyday and sit next to her and try to feel her up. Every single day.The four of them came up with a plan. They would go all the way to B’s station but A,C and D would act like they didn’t know her and sit in some corner so that they could observe her. Then the next day, they would come with a police officer.It was a fine plan. They went all the way to B’s station, all the while, watching the ugly scene in front of them. They were helpless and scared. But they told her not to worry. Tomorrow, the police officer would deal with the awful man, they said. ut the next day, she was missing. She didn’t come to college. Not B. A. A was missing. She was the leader in their group. The driving force. The mastermind of the plan. Where was she? She didn’t come the whole week. When they finally decided to go to her house, they found her mother wailing. Her daughter had committed suicide. What??? They couldn’t believe it. Why would A commit suicide? She was so happy! The scared, confused, upset girls turned to go offer their condolences to A’s father. And everything fell into place. A’s sudden silence on the train the day they went with B. The sudden shadow on her face when the other two were consoling B. Her suicide.

A’s father. The man on the train.

Fact or fiction?

Who knows…

Coming back to my class... we talk about it a lot...

and every time, we come up at the same point - the punishment... for rape, eve teasing, sexual harassment....and every time, we come up at the same apt, but unreasonable punishment... Castration... its impractical and impossible... but it is what these men deserve...

Eve-teasing. A word that makes light of the whole situation. Is all of this teasing???

How many women can honestly say that they have never been 'eve-teased'?

Very very few...

Ps- i have been bloghopping like crazy... and i came across an interesting article.. a lot of blogs are discussing this topic. but what hit me the most is that a lot of the men are feeling guilty even when they haven't done anything. as a result i decided to remove the last line of this post. which also asked the question 'how many men can say they have never eve teased?' because i dont feel there is any point in people who are not part of the crime, feeling bad abt it. i dont intend to create any guilt complex in any man who reads this post. However. i strongly am against every person(man/women) who says that eve teasing is natural and should be expected. even among animals, females dont put up with 'teasing'. and sex is solely the decision of the female. then, as humans who rape, and assault and eve-tease, are we worse than animals?

and talking abt rape- 8-10% of all rape takes place against men. just for your info.
and abt animals, i'm not implying they are worse than human. just asking are we worse than them.

and phew! thats a long post script...

Action Hero Anna

http://wickedly-yours.blogspot.com

Make some noise, Some Blank Noise

It was woman's day yesterday! Isn't every day woman's day? Doesn't the day belong to them as much as it belongs to men? Don't women take care of us men every single day. Don't they do the things men do, everyday. But it was woman's day yesterday. 1 day in a year to celebrate yearlong achievements. The irony eh?

This Blog is an ode to all the women I know. All the women who have influenced me and continue to change me everyday. Its these women who have made me the man I am today. Its these women who make me a better man each day! My mom, my grandma, my aunts, my school friends, my classmates, my ex girlfriends, my teachers, my neighbors daughters, my friends, my sisters, Ammu and my female listeners. A huge Thank you to each one of you! :)

This Blog is also my bit for the Blank Noise. A unique anti street harassment initiative. They also have offline activities in Bangalore, Mumbai and Delhi. Make sure you take a look, and see what you can do to spread the word. Do your bit to help women from all around!

My woman's day went off pretty well. I went to sleep the previous night watching "Casanova". A story of women actually, (will blog that sometime soon) . I woke up with 2 women by my side..*grin* (now now don't get all excited, One was Ammu and the other mandy) . The first thing I did in the morning (before even brushing my teeth) was head to supermarket to buy the girls a pack of "monthly protection gear". What a way to start woman's day eh? lol. The entire day was packed with women and things women need. A friend of mine did a radio show on radiocity with Jasmeen. Got me thinking on the true meaning of women's Day. To convince me of my opinions and fortify my thoughts, came a blessing in disguise! A woman's day event. My night ended with a woman's day fashion show event At I Bar, Bangalore.

Last night It finally hit me! At the pub, during the event, as semi naked men were walking on the ramp, I realised something! The ladies were whistling, hooting, screaming, burping and being completely outrageous. The things that men usually do. Once the male models started walking the ramp there was ample Clawing, pawing, grabbing, Commenting on Sizes, tightness and color, and glaring, and other ego-gnawing acts. There was a lot staring and letching. And lewd gesturing. Some women even went to the extent of pulling out the models clothes. (the models did seem to enjoy it though) Some women even went on to comment that a planet "without men" would be ideal. Another even went on to explain how she loved vibrators to men!! Another Said she'd like her "sausage".. without the "pig" sheesh!! the things a poor innocent compere has to go through!!

For one night, All the women thought like men! They even acted like men!

Just one night of male bashing, and adam teasing (if there's such a term), made every man in there feel really insecure. It made every man squirm. It made every man cover his private parts. Made every man wish he was somewhere else, probably safe at home. Im sure most men in there wished the earth would cave in and swallow them.

I empathise with women, who have to go through this every day!

I empathise with woman kind, who are taken for granted!

I empathise with girls of all ages who have to mind their tongue, clothes and bodies because us men will do what we do the best.. "Think Like a man!"

Street Harassment is a common phenomenon. All of us know at least 1 girl who has been troubled/letched at or felt up/grabbed by a complete stranger at some point of her life. And mind you, these are only smaller issues. The bigger ones usually go unspoken for. After hundreds of arguments and multiple fights against men who indulge in street harassment, one wonders if there's any point to standing up for it at all!

And then it dawns on you! What is happening is a world wide phenomenon. And unless someone stands up for it, correction, unless everyone stands up for it, things WONT change!!!

There can be a million questions!!! Will men always be men? Or will they change? Women will always be oppressed? Or will that change? Only Time will give an answer to that. But all of us can work our way to the answer we want.

I urge every woman who reads this to get Angry. Get angry for your own sake. Anger creates fury. Fury creates fear!! I urge every woman to get infuriated! Indulge in wrath!! I urge you To NOT lay low!

But its important to get out that anger in the right way. Its important to channelise it. Start using Pepper spray, learn the Three point technique (Eyes, Solar plexus, groin) , start educating the men you know, Talk to other women about things that trouble you, about men who harrass Start voicing your opinion. Start to Make some noise. Some blank noise.

Im proud to be part of the The Blank Noise blogathon

Action Hero Anjaan

http://meanjaan.blogspot.com

Blank Noise - Harassment

Had to jump into this one - it's critical and ranges from mild admiration to violent rape with harassment / eve -teasing etc. somewhere in the middle yet close to both extremes.
I have two views - both true I imagine, both diametrically different.
One is the simpler view. I've hardly been to a city in the world where 'eve-teasing' doesn't occur - from wolf-whistles, to leering looks, to driving close,cheesy one-liners heavily sexually loaded, to the breast-grabber and more graphic stuff. As a woman I try and quickly understand the culture of the city I am currently in. Some places in the world, you say 'No' to guy or just tell him to lay off and he does. He's just trying to see if you're game. Some cultures, particularly the North Indian one, the guys don't know better - they don't have the opportunity to engage in normal relationships with women at an age where they have active hormones - and they socio-psychological conditioning is so strong : the aggressive macho male who can have it all anyway he wants completely submerging his own trembling insecurity within. And as a woman, you learn to deal with this guy as well, in the manner that all the other blogs mentioned. Quick tips to keep safe. Sock a guy, keep mist handy, take precautions, use elbows, keep cool.

The complex view (and I'm a little ambivalent on this one, though I cannot ignore it) in India is a rapidly changing exposure to comparatively liberal mores in the media and in society over the past 10 years - not long enough for the deeply-embedded social and cultural conditioning to adapt itself. While I theoretically and personally agree with "if a guy can wear what he wants or scratch his balls in public, why on earth can't a woman wear / do what she wants without getting harassed?", this isn't how it works. Let's be real. We've been used to bare-chested, half-lungi, kaccha -clad guys since forever. But the spaghetti strapped, g-string panty peeping out of low-slung jeans, hugely sexy and carefree young thing is a new phenomenon. Sit at a Subway (or etc.) when school gives over in Delhi and you'll see a bunch of girls in decent school uniforms go into the restroom and come out looking like they're ready for the ramp. I think they look gorgeous. So do the guys. I think they look provocative. So do the guys. And the guys don't know how to handle it. So either those schoolgirls get harassed or some young guy who gets completely turned on but wouldn't dare do anything with them picks on an innocent alone in a bus girl / woman and wants to unleash his manhood on her. Sometimes this leads to more than harassment - sometimes it leads to rape. I'm not saying "she asked for it". I'm saying "he's not ready for so much so fast". And with the focus on looks, clothes, sex etc etc he's getting a lot to handle - and his collective consciousness hasn't equipped him with nonchalance yet.

Any solutions?

I'll try some.

- Mothers, educate your sons

- Media, initiate debate

- Media, (all kinds), you do have social responsibility.

- The older generation cannot abdicate its responsibility to the next and then rue the fact that there is violence and an unsafe environment. So, when you make a Neel and Nicky where the heroine wears a bra throughout and oozes out of it (story does not demand the same) then please expect all the guys from small toowns, villages, big towns to get possessed and lose rational thought.

- Girls, figure what you should wear where.

- Fathers, set a good example in how you refer to women in general

- Schools - talk about this.

Action Hero Anita Vasudeva

http://penmark.blogspot.com

Blank Noise: v0.la

If it's a project, it's gotta have a solution! Here's the beta...

Women have always been victims of sexual harassment on the street. Of late, I have read a lot of such stories - stories of women, recounting their harrowing experiences on the street. From women being molested in public, to strange men feeling up their privates, to perverts masturbating on women commuters at railway stations, there are so many stories out in the open, thanks to the Blank Noise - aims to recognize eve teasing as a sexual crime and establish the issue as something that may be normal, but is unacceptable. And many more exist, mostly untold and hidden in the deepest ravines of an affected woman's heart.

Many men and women have made their contribution to Blank Noise and shed light on this reality. I don't intend to just make a contribution. I intend to change the thinking and hope to eradicate sexual harassment on the street as such. I know being male, I can only read or listen to such stories. I will never experience it first hand. I will never be able to step into the shoes of a woman who has experienced such a thing. And when I do read and listen to such stories, I can't help but think what women could do to improve the situation and their chances when they become victims.

I also know it is easy to give advice, and even more, to give unsolicited advice. Women may already know of what I think might be a solution. My words may not be worth a penny. Whatever be the case, here are my thoughts that might improve the chances of woman to protect herself from being sexually harassed on the street.

Recognizing the Crime

Eve-teasing or street sexual harassment, is a social stigma. It is a big problem that manifests itself through small incidents that occur to a large number of women on the streets. To eradicate this, what we need is change in our mindset, thinking, behavior, and most importantly social ranking of women.

Being Less Vulnerable

Like the predators that can sense fear in their prey, pervert men might actually sense the vulnerability in women. Once the prey is vulnerable, a prospective perpetrator’s job is already half done. Take for an instance, a woman standing in a crowded railway station platform. She tries hard to avoid the gazes from men. She stops 'being herself' and pretends to look 'nowhere'. She cocoons herself and turns a blind eye to the truth that several men are gazing at her, with not-so-friendly eyes. These gazes make her utterly uncomfortable and each passing second seems unbearable to her. By isolating herself, she becomes more vulnerable. While she looks nowhere, a pervert brushes past her, touching her where she hates it the most. She is caught unaware and before she can react, the pervert has disappeared in the crowd. Doesn't this happen everyday?

Being Brave & Bold

Another reason why women fall prey to eve-teasing is our culture. By culture, I don't only mean our Indian culture. Women throughout the world are considered the weaker sex, at least subconsciously. When you agree that you are the weaker sex, you get attention - both positive and negative. While chivalry, respect for being a woman, and being treated in a 'womanly manner' count as positive attention, sexual harassment, eve-teasing, rape, gang-rapes account for negative attention. Chivalry that women love is a classic example of this subconscious discrimination - even among women! Now, if women genuinely think they are equal to men and inculcate such thinking in themselves, they will automatically be a lot less weaker - emotionally and physically. They will cease to be exploitable. In my opinion, the key is to be BOLD and not expect any special treatment for being born a woman. Only then will the exploitation stop.

Being Prepared

Finally, besides being a lot less vulnerable, weak, and exploitable, being prepared for such situations can only be a positive step towards curbing such instances. Being prepared for such situation does not only mean carrying pepper sprays and joining the weekend Kung Fu/Karate class. The preparation has to start from the mind. Only when a woman truly considers herself equal to her male counterpart in every way, will she begin to be prepared to combat street sexual harassment.

So the next time you have men gazing all over you, hold your head up in confidence. Be bold, be brave, and most importantly be alert of the environment around you. When a pervert tries to brush past you, you will be able to slap him instantly. Or even better, move away before he succeeds and give him the "You suck!" look. Sharp, 'I'll-kill-you gazes' back at men do work. At least that's what many women have told me!

Action Hero Anish

http://liveanidea.blogspot.com

The power of collective rage

Rage.

That's what hit me today as I looked around the blogosphere. It was full of posts, poems, notes and memories of eve teasing / harrassment because of the Blank Noise blog-a-thon on street harrassment.

I was sceptical at first. Much as I believe in the power of the written word, I thought the posts would be too few. I thought only the female readers would care. I had underestimated the power of empathy. This is something that all women go through. The blogosphere resounded with many, many voices. Surprisingly, many men also read these posts and commented. Some even participated by posting their own thoughts and experiences on harrassment.

The posts were difficult to read sometimes because they were intensely personal, wrenchingly honest, and universally true. Some of them had me biting my lips fiercely, trying not to cry. Some of them had me clenching my fists in helplessness and anger. But all of them made me feel a sense of unity with other women out there. The sense that we are all the same in some ways. In making us all think, write and read about it at the same time, the blog-a-thon created a feeling of shared truth and anger.

The fact that the nature of harrassment is so familiar should make it easier to fight. After all, it's not one pitifully voice tentatively bringing it up. It's a chorus of protests, a collective howl of rage. It should make it easier to fight. But we haven't been able to so far. Is it because we haven't been loud enough? Explicit enough? Clear enough? Consistent enough?

The thing is: tomorrow - or a week later - we'll go back to our daily lives. We will not forget about it (how can we?), but we will push it to the back burner.

And that's exactly what we should not do. Because some types of rage are good. Some types of rage can change things. And therefore, they are necessary.

Fan the flames then.

Action Hero Anindita Sen Gupta

http://anusengupta.blogspot.com

Blank Noise: Solution v0.1a