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Why India not only needs feminism, but it is the only way to live.
Why India not only needs feminism, but it is the only way to live life. And we need it now.
‘You are such a Rani of Jhansi sometimes. You know you can’t fight everything, don’t you?’
I used to get that remark from my husband quite often. (I may add a disclaimer here that he is all for women empowerment and gender equality, and never hesitates to assist in activities that are labeled women-only. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise)
Over the years he stopped saying that to me and we just got along with our lives, house, baby and yearly trips to India to meet our families for a couple of weeks. Although I generally write about parenting, I recently wrote a piece around marriage jokes and how they get on my nerves. The post was tagged under ‘feminist’ by Women’s Web.
Feminist? Really, am I one? I wondered to myself. I then dusted some old shelves of my past and found a rather thick book of feminism lying at some corner of my inner self. I picked that book out and started reading it, straightening the dog-eared pages. It was almost like a high school yearbook, which like a time machine transported me to a different era. The stark difference here was that this yearbook hardly had any happy memories.
In one chapter was an incidence of not being allowed to stay out after dark for a college party, tagged under ‘Things only men are allowed to do’. On another there was a very angrily written account of a man masturbating outside a school trying to stop and make conversation with two young girls. This, along with a number of other similar incidents of groping, lewd remarks and vulgar stares was highlighted with red markers and filed under ‘Patriarchy and the resulting commoditization of women’.
A few pages further, there was a bookmark opening up to ‘Sexism and misogyny’ which talked about how women were falsely accused of using coquettish ways to climb up the corporate ladder, pushing their poor, hard working male counterparts behind. The next chapter was full of pictures of me in colourful, ‘decent’ clothes that carried hallmarks of approval by the society at large. I quickly flipped through those to save myself embarrassment.
Further down there was a section on ‘Customs forced on women getting married’. I took the longest to go through this one, stopping now and then to wipe my father’s tears while giving me away and clearing the knots in my throat. I may have torn off all pages of ‘Expectations from a married woman’ – the last chapter in the book, in utter frustration.
Rage engulfed me as I flipped through all the pages. Unanswered questions cobwebbed my head. Helplessness paralyzed me. It was those very incidents that had made me don my feminist cap and fight like a Rani of Jhansi, even if to be defeated again and again. For the last 6 years, living in 3 different countries outside India, I almost forgot what feminism meant. I haven’t had to fight for women rights here. I don’t have to ask to be treated as a human. I don’t have to live with a permanent chip in my shoulder.
But when I return, as I want to and long to, the book will come in handy. Sadly, in my country, feminism is not just a movement for women, it is the only way to live.
Image via Shutterstock
Shivangi is the author of the hilarious yet compelling book 'I made a booboo', published by Rupa and available worldwide. She also co-authored a travel anthology on Netherlands, titled 'Dutched up' that featured among read more...
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'Dr Saloni will take care of everything,' my MIL said. My cowardly husband refused to go against his mother’s wishes. I was left to fend for myself!
Some time ago, I went to a marriage ceremony with my parents. It was a very high-profile marriage – not the ones we usually were invited to – but in this case it was Ramesh uncle’s son’s marriage. Ramesh uncle was my father’s first cousin. He began his career as a humble elevator operator at the TIC business group. With his sheer hard work, grit, and the knack of sensing the right opportunities, within eighteen years he became the president of the company. My father and he were the best of friends during their school time.
Half an hour before the stipulated time, we left our house, hired an auto and reached the venue. All four of us were in our best outfits. Getting out of the auto and looking at each other, we were highly convinced that we were going to fit in just right. As we crossed the dazzling and beautiful portico, we felt very insignificant compared to the big lawn and building lying ahead.
Mother was wearing all the jewellery she had got, including the big old-fashioned necklace, earrings and shiny bangles. Father was wearing a velvet coat, brother had put on a light orange shirt with a black check coat, I myself was wearing a red salwar kurta with a net dupatta. I had put on a necklace with red beads which at the time of wearing looked very pretty to me. Now looking at the other guests, I felt all four of us must be looking like clowns who had come for a fancy-dress competition. I felt my brother and parents were also feeling self-conscious and uneasy now.
Live-in relationships are legal in the eyes of the law. Read on to know more on the rights of women in live-in relationships.
Live-in relationships may sound exciting. But sometimes they become complicated, especially for women and the children born from a live-in relationship. It’s important to be aware of rights of women in live-in relationships.
Live-in relationships are where a woman and man live under one roof with mutual consent, like husband and wife, but without getting married. This has become very common in metropolitan cities these days, where two independent people simply do not want to get married. This relationship can be terminated without the consent of the other party.
Live-in relation may not be recognized completely at the social level, but Indian law does consider this relationship to be legal.
Each one of us on the Women's Web team has come to this team in such different ways, live very different lives - yet we have a kernel of similarity that fits us all together like a wonderful jigsaw puzzle.
Each one of us on the Women’s Web team has come to this team in such different ways, live very different lives – yet we have a kernel of similarity that fits us all together like a wonderful jigsaw puzzle.
Informal discussions over lunch at work, or impromptu chats often bring out personal facts, odds and ends of information that go on to make a more composite picture of each one of us who make up the inspiring team Women’s Web. Things that we wouldn’t discuss during day to day work.
But we’re all feminists.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Dear Ijeawele or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions is a must read for every parent. Here's why.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Dear Ijeawele or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions is a must read for every parent. Here’s why.
How strange it is that sometimes some 500-page books are done reading within a couple of hours and sometimes some less than 100-page books take an entire day! In my case, I took about 3-4 days for this one to sink in. Not because it was tough, but because there were so many things in it to note down and mull over. While I am typing this piece out, I can say I have already read it 5 times.
Motherhood is a significant turning point in a woman’s life – a commitment of a lifetime – bringing a tiny human being into a world so far and huge. How, in such a scenario, do we teach our children the right ways of living? Can we or can we not? When we ourselves have been conditioned by a particular upbringing, can we break those chains and teach our children to be more open to the world?