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 Project 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 Project 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 Project 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 MadHat

March 7: Blank Noise Project

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 Project.

*

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

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 Project 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

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 project and support the cause whole-heartedly. Please visit http://blanknoiseproject.blogspot.com to learn more about it.

- Action Hero Archana Bahuguna

Sexual Harassment

A group of bloggers in India have come up with a commendable blog-a-thon initiative called Blank Noise. 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

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.

- Action Hero Ash

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 Ash

On Violence Against Women

Street sexual harassment is something that women have to contend with in India. While generally true, I have heard that the degree of harassment varies from city to city. Delhi is especially bad but Kolkata is a much safer place for women. It appears that in Kolkata, people take an interest in what is going on around them, and if they notice a woman being assaulted, they actively discourage the behavior by beating the crap out of the person. It is part of the culture and everyone knows. It basically is common knowledge: that if you are considering harassing a woman in public, you are likely to get beaten up; and if you the third party, you are expected to either initiate the roughing up or join in enthusiastically in the edification of the criminal.

Beating up guys for assaulting women is a second best response. It would be much better if they could be dealt by the law enforcement. But then there are better things for the law enforcement to do. Yet, there are ways of fixing the problem without too much effort. You don’t have to police people everywhere everyday for years on end. The society has to take a stance and decide to change the “culture” of violence against women. The cost is front-loaded but it is a one-time cost. Here is what you do.

Publish and make it known that violence against women will not be tolerated from such and such a date onwards. Make that date a few months into the future. Plaster the notice on such places where potential assaulters will have the opportunity to know that there will be zero tolerance for the crime. Make it known that the punishment will be exemplary and harsh.

Then go out and on that specified day, catch a few guilty of street violence against some women. Throw the book at them and report the incidents far and wide. Let it be shown on TV, talked about on the radio, discussed in the pages of the newspapers. Let the pictures of the guilty be published all over the place as if they were movie stars. Do this every few weeks and I guarantee that in a few months, street violence against women will be a thing of the past. The culture would have changed.

It is tolerance of what should not be tolerated that causes problems. People consider it acceptable—both the criminal and the victim take it as part of the way that the world operates. But if the signal goes out that that something will not be tolerated, people figure out the changed circumstances and respond appropriately.

You may recall what happened to the 18-year old American kid, Michael Fay, who was arrested in 1994 for vandalizing cars in Singapore. They caned him, since that was the punishment, and they did that despite pleas for clemency from the President of the US. The incident was well publicized and with good reason: the Singaporeans wanted to make sure that they did not have to cane too many people. People are rational beings and are quite capable of figuring out that vandals are punished severely in Singapore and alter their behavior appropriately.

The punishment for street violence against women, in my opinion, should be caning, followed by 100 hours of community service—picking up trash from the streets. Trash should be forced to pick up trash.

Impoliteness and rudeness in society is a symptom of deeper problems, rather than a problem in itself. While it is good to address the symptoms, it is also necessary to understand why it exists and what can be done to address its cause. That is a difference and long discussion, however.

{See the Blank Noise Project: The project seeks to recognize eve teasing as a sexual crime and establish the issue as something that may be normal, but is unacceptable. The Blank Noise project works both online and on the streets of Bangalore, Mumbai , Delhi. We invite you to come along!}

- Action Hero Atanu Dey

'That sort of women'

'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 Anglophilicbong