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Women in public spaces are fair game for everyone; when will women's bodies be just a part of us, not a precious commodity to guard?
I am boarding a train at Chennai’s enormous Central station. As I walk to my platform, a man walking rapidly, with his bag slung over his shoulder and talking to someone behind him almost smashes into me. Then another.
Neither collision is intentional. Crowded spaces, masses of people hurrying to get to wherever they need to be. And yet, I am unable to recall when on any of my journeys through bus depots and railway stations, has any woman ever walked into me.
Women stumble, fall, bump into you; it is only men who have the luxury of walking with such abandon that they walk right into the person ahead. I envy men. There it is. Not penis envy, as good old Freud posited but I envy them that they can forget about gender in a way women never can.
Men own spaces, women in public spaces merely beg the fleeting use of them. Try sitting at the beach by yourself (if you are a woman) and you will know exactly what I mean. A lone woman, doing nothing, is an oddity that must be leered at and of course made fraandship to. A friend who visited the beach with her child recently, told me how two young men who gave children horse rides brought their horses uncomfortably close to her, and while the horses peed, indulged in crude jokes about the animals’ penises; because you know, even if a man is the one talking rubbish, it is a woman who must feel dirty. A lone woman learns to arm herself with the righteousness of purpose. Good women don’t loiter.
Men can forget their bodies. When a man’s body slams into me at the railway station because he isn’t looking ahead of him, I’m the one who is embarrassed. As women, we are constantly aware of our bodies and who might encroach on them. Intentional or unintentional, the result can sometimes be the same, nor do we always know which one it is.
The stray hand that brushes against your breast unerringly has only lost its way “because the bus is too crowded.” Right, we believe you. But when a man slams so hard against fourteen year old me in a market that his elbow leaves a bruise on my chest, the thought that he was “just in a hurry” doesn’t make me feel better either.
When conversations about these things begin, there is always someone, usually a man, quick to point out, “but not all men are like this.” Relax, it’s not about you. If two out of ten men will try to grope me and another one stay blissfully unaware of the space his body is intruding into, I’m not going to wait around to identify the other seven, am I? Hands, books, bags across the chest, oversized clothes, eyes constantly on the watch for pervs (or the careless), walking quickly, looking busy, no loitering, these are the tricks that women adopt in public places.
I am more than my body, but on the road, the body is all there is. What would it be like to walk as though my body was just a part of me and not a precious thing that needs to be guarded? I am unable to imagine.
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Founder & Chief Editor of Women's Web, Aparna believes in the power of ideas and conversations to create change. She has been writing since she was ten. In another life, she used to be read more...
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Women today don’t want to be in a partnership that complicates their lives further. They need an equal partner with whom they can figure out life as a team, playing by each other’s strengths.
We all are familiar with that one annoying aunty who is more interested in our marital status than in the dessert counter at a wedding. But these aunties have somehow become obsolete now. Now they are replaced by men we have in our lives. Friends, family, and even work colleagues. It’s the men who are worried about why we are not saying yes to one among their clans. What is wrong with us? Aren’t we scared of dying alone? Like them?
A recent interaction with a guy friend of mine turned sour when he lectured me about how I would regret not getting married at the right time. He lectured that every event in our lives needs to be completed within a certain timeframe set by society else we are doomed. I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed to realize that annoying aunties are rapidly doubling in our society. And they don’t just appear at weddings or family functions anymore. They are everywhere. They are the real pandemic.
Let’s examine this a little closer.
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