Why Did You Touch Her?

Last week, while I was eating lunch, my sister was reading the newspaper-an article about AIDS and how some men still sought out young virgin girls to "cure" them of the disease. Suddenly she casually mentioned the ex-cook of someone we used to know. He used to grope me, she said. Filled with rage and shock, I just stared at her, unable to say anything. AP, another cook, still with some friends, had dealt with him, she told me. This wasn't the first time my sister had been groped or sexually assaulted, but I don't know why she chose to tell me of this particular incident only now.

For the past week I've been filled with a feeling of impotent rage and misery and bad memories. The feeling that I could not protect my sister. Memories of the many times I myself have been felt up. Memories of one night in the hostel at college when some of us girls got together, talking about some of the worst times in our lives.

I first remember being pinched at Grant Road Market, where I had gone shopping with my mother. I was standing near a cart piled with whatever wares the vendor was selling, holding my mother's hand. I was so young, I had no breasts to pinch. Yet this man came by and did just that and then started running away. My mother turned and I blurted out what had happened and she ran after him. He was caught, by her and some other people, and severely beaten, taken away by the police.

Other times, I didn't have my mother with me. Like the time I went to a magazine shop and was grabbed and groped from behind. I came back home, tears running down my cheeks and kept showering, as if that would somehow make things better.

Then there was a time in some small town in the South, between school and Chennai, when I was in a moving auto rickshaw and a guy reached his arm inside to get a feel. I felt like there were spiders crawling all over me. At that time I had 15 year old A next to me (now my husband) who saw what was happening and yanked me inside. We didn't even see his face, he sped off on a motorbike.

There was the taxi driver I once passed who flashed. If I came across a flasher today, I would think he was just pathetic and report him to the police. But I was 11 then and absolutely shocked, so much so that I was trembling.

The list just goes on-grew when I went to Delhi. Never travelled on the bus without a sharp object.

I don't know what triggered it, but one night some of us girls were sitting together in my room-mates and my room in the hostel. We were talking about being groped, sexually assaulted, raped. Not a single one of us had escaped. Not a single one. The stories came out slowly, most of them never talked about before.

S was regularly assaulted by her cousin. She was only seven and didn't understand what was happening. Her cousin threatened her and told her not to tell anyone. Until one day, her mother found her wearing sperm sodden underwear while helping her change. Her mother, a widow in a small town, confronted the family. They denied everything and accused her of maligning their son.

My best friend N, who told me everything, but hadn’t told me or anyone else this, suddenly revealed she had been molested by her own cousin. Taken into backrooms. And then later, by her sister's father-in-law, in a car, when he'd taken her out shopping.

Another friend, raped, because she turned down the advances of a man who kept chasing her.

I haven't talked about this issue with my friends and colleagues here in the UK, but I don't have a single Indian girlfriend who hasn't been groped or sexually assaulted in one way or another. Not a single one. It happened to my mother, it happened to me, it happened to my sister, it happened to my friends. It continues to happen.

Action Hero MumbaiGirl

http://mumbaigirl.blogspot.com

Blank Noise – More Power

It starts with the way some men look at you differently when you are walking on the road. Then the snide comments, and gleeful vicious snickers which belittle the way you walk across the road, and sometimes it moves to groping you, full on, without shame when you are least expecting it, the experience leaving you dazed.....and then you slowly begin realizing you are no longer the pig tailed school girl, you have transformed into an object. To be eyed all over, looked over, and if you miss a step, felt over.

As much as I love Bombay, the freedom it allows for, and the safety it promises relative to its sister cities, it did leave me feeling sick a few times, when street harrasment made me change certain things about my life, and left an indelible mark I struggled to deal with.

Not counting the usual instances of cat whistles, snide remarks, being followed and groping in crowded places ( and I call them 'usual' not because they were acceptable, but because there were too many to really point towards or narrate), there is one instance which comes to my mind or rather has never left it, simply on account of the illusion of decency the perpetrator exuded.

I will be your father figure, Put your tiny hand in mine, I will be your preacher teacher, Anything you have in mind

At 16, having recently lost a lot of weight, I was enjoying wearing just-above-the-knees denim skirts to college. Now, I was and have always been somewhat of a prude, so I always wore cycling shorts underneath the skirt. One fine afternoon a friend and I were waiting at Matunga railway station and I was in my favorite denim skirt. The scorching sun and boring day had rendered me tired so I was sitting comfortably on one of the benches at the station.

Just then I noticed a gentlemanly looking Parsi uncle sit beside me. I ingored him and was carrying on the usual stream on funny talks with my friend, until he looked straight at me and then at my skirt. I thought he was going to ask the usual questions, 'which college beta?", you know the ones uncle and aunts love asking you ......when suddenly he leaned forward and said quietly, " You have nice thighs', I was shocked and didn't know how to answer, I think I actually said 'okay'. or something to that effect, desperately looking at my friend. Seeing my lack of response did not deter him, he went on to ask, "So what do you do to maintain them, do you massage them with oil", He continued saying certain more things, but by then I had stood up and walked a few steps away, my insides seething with rage and shame. Luckily, the train came, and the man took it. I chose to avoid the same train.

Later on I asked my friend to see if my skirt was looking inappropriate and she actually had the insensitivity to say something like, 'yeah I don't think it's proper', like I actually did something to invite the atrocious and utterly perverse remarks of his. On hindsight, of course I should have hit him, or come up with some rejoinder which should have put him firmly in his place, but I did not. That man actually managed to make me feel cheap. And I never ever wore that skirt again. In fact, I hardly ever wore skirts after that. I feel stupid now, that I let that sorry excuse for a human being make me a victim. I feel even more foolish, that his remarks impacted me the way I dressed, almost alluding that his comment was not out of line, I was. And, that is something, no man, is ever going to make me feel again.

I also became careful thereafter, and learnt the language of dangerous looks and abuses. I learnt the art of survival in the city which was still relatively safer...I also lost some of my innonence.

Action Hero Menagerie

http://zariaa.blogspot.com

I stopped wearing red.

Making our way through busy Dadar station market, mom and dad lugged me through the crowds without realizing what their little one was about the experience that day. The crowd didn’t bother me. I was still distracted, as a normal child would be at 9 yrs of age. I was stopping at every shop window admiring the stuff while dad kept pulling me, getting angry and repeating something about missing the train and that it was going to be so crowded now. We got into the mob of commuters at the station, and before I knew what was happening I felt someone touch my bum crack. No, not a hand brushing against it. And in a minute the same hand on my crotch. I could hear my heart beat louder but I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t scream. It continued till we waited while my dad got tickets for us. I remember standing on the side still holding my mum’s hand. But I couldn’t see, or didn’t dare to see who was feeling me up. I was desperate to hop on to the next coming train, but dad thought it better to miss this one. I was nervous as hell. As a kid fear made me clench my jaws so hard, my ears and jaws would hurt, for days. I then moved to side against the stairs and that’s when I saw the man waving at me. he kept making signs at me as if asking me go to him. I hide from his view and he would come around to the other side. My agony ended when we finally got into the train and it started to move. I wanted to throw up.

It wasn’t the end of it. Next few months, I lived in gripping fear. I was convinced that the man would find me again. Maybe he followed me. Or maybe he put a chip on me to trace my home and me. I didn’t get out of the house, if I was left alone at home I would cry, which was unusual for a ‘strong girl’ like me. I was wearing a red frock with a big white frill jacket and red ribbons on my plaits that day. I could not touch that dress; I couldn’t wear that color, for years to come.

It wasn’t my first experience and definitely not my last. I doesn’t matter whom you are with. You can flaunt a ‘mangalsutra’ around your neck if you want. It doesn’t discourage them. I went through phases of suffering silently, even after the blow on my breast hurt like hell, fighting back, beating them in public and finally learning to duck, turn, ignore, avoid at the right time.

I learnt a few things. Making a noise in public sometimes helps, they fight with you. But most of the times people will look at you as if you did something wrong by retaliating. Best to avoid eye contact, yet be on your guard. Keep your temper under control. You can’t change the world.

The above post is part of the Blog-a-thon organised by Blank Noise.

Action Hero Miko!

http://isitokto.blogspot.com

Filth, nymphomaniacs, and the woman's body

I am writing this as a testimonial to Blank Noise.

Here are three sections from the Indian penal code:

Section 209

Whoever to the annoyance of others, does any obscene act in any public place or sings, recites or utters any obscene song or ballad or words in or near any public place shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to three months or with fine or both. (Cognizable, bailable and triable offense).

Section 509

Whoever intending to insult the modesty of any woman utters any word, makes any sound or gesture, or exhibits any objects, intending that such word or sound shall be heard, or that such gesture or object shall be seen by such woman or intrudes upon the privacy of such woman, shall be punished with simple imprisonment for a term which may extend to one year or with fine or both(Cognizable and bailable offence).

Section 354

Whoever assaults or uses criminal force to any woman intending to outrage, or knowing it to be likely that he will thereby outrage her modesty, shall be punished with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to two years or fine or both.

Ironic isnt it?

Isn't it sad that these lofty and utopian ideals exist in the Indian penal code, sections which people didnt even know existed, clearly stating that it is a criminal offense to heckle, tease, or abuse a woman sexually or otherwise? Isn't it depressing that our judicial system and the police force are oftentimes the ones who break the code themselves?
What can you do with rules, edicts and codes when our society has become "conditioned" to abuse and molestation, inflicted on the woman?

Women, as my grandmother once said should "take precautions". These included the following so-called unconscious rules every girl should inflict upon herself, to follow:

1. Dress appropritately; only salwars or saris, with the duppatta of the salwar covering the bosom completely.

2. Never travel alone after 6 pm. Ever.

3. Meekly accept that molestation and groping in public places, is a fact of life we have to live with, and go about our business.

As much as I love my grandmother, none of her points are feasible, or humanly possible without feeling like a caged animal.

This harassment happens in all Indian cities, with the metropolitan citites being the worst.

I see this pattern again and again, it is the women who are blamed repeatedly, it is the women who are subjected to layer upon layer of clothes, to cover her arms, legs, body, to "prevent" street sexual harassment or "eve-teasing".

We are constantly told to wear shapeless clothes, loose clothes to hide the curves in our body, we are constantly reminded to not be independent, to almost always have a male escort or travel in groups because what can "we" as women do? "Men will be men" right?

I detest that argument. Aren't men humans too? Are they incapable of having basic control to curb a hard on (for want of a better word), when a good looking girl walks by? Aren't they equipped with a brain: to think, to use logic, to use reason, before behaving obscenely?

Men dont you find it offensive when people think you are incapable of controlling your carnal desires akin to a dog's? Dont you find it offensive when people including our "culture police" make statements like this: "Of course men will get aroused and behave wantonly, if a woman wears tight figure hugging clothes, it is upto the woman to cover up."
Dont you think it is downright appalling to the psyche of a man, when you are considered a wanton and sex starved creature, and women are repeatedly advised to wear layers of clothes, because you, being the nymphomanical animal that you are presumed to be, cannot resist even the sight of a woman in clothes which FIT her?
I am NOT, repeat, not putting down the male of the species here. I am simply trying to make a point that men should find it offensive and insulting to be referred to like this, a lot of men who do not actively partake in eve-teasing ignore the issue, since it does not concern them. So men, it concerns you as much as it concerns us women. Wake up. Please.

Women attempt suicides because of eve-teasing and some are brutally murdered. Other girls have to deal with the life long scars of acid thrown in their faces, because they dont succumb to their perpetuator.

Who is the eve-teaser?

It can be anyone, a father, a brother, a husband or a boyfriend.

Psychologically, eve-teasers harass women to sadistically prove their superiority over women.

Some of them also harass women to fill a void in their life, be it emotionally, sexually or otherwise.

There is no specific age when eve teasing or harassment begins.

A man showed me his organ when I was 10. I was cycling home on my way back from school. As soon as I skirted a turn, this man jumps in front of me with everything hanging out. I was terrified for an instant, but I swerved around him and I sped away.

I was groped in a train when I was 12. I was coming out of the train toilet, when an old man( in his 50's I guess) pushes himself onto me and squeezes my butt.
I scurried around him and I run to my mom. I never left her side for the rest of the journey.

I was felt up my skirt(my school skirt) within a matter of weeks after the train incident, by the bus conductor, in a pretense of helping me get down from the crowded bus.

My breasts have been pinched SEVERAL times in crowded areas and while sitting in an auto during a traffic signal.

Almost every woman goes through the same harassment every day in one form or the other.

Let us look at this scenario:

You are waiting at the bus stop early in the morning, minding your business as usual, when a group of guys sitting on a wall behind the stop, as if on cue, burst out into a loud rendition of "Chholi ke peeche kya hai, chholi ke peechey!" or something like "Anney, madipa pakuraaru, anney idupu a pakkuraaru!"( ohh Brother look at the folds of the hips! Or something like that) .

You valiantly try to ignore them and jump into the next bus which comes along.
To your dismay, the bus is extremely crowded, and to top it off, an old man cannot keep his hands to himself and makes it a point to grope your breast everytime the bus driver applies the brakes and to make matters worse you can feel him getting a hard on.

You have had enough and you decide to get down at the very next stop, but you have to fight through the huge group of guys hanging off the footboard of the bus and you get groped on your way out, by seven pairs of hands atleast.

You are left feeling violated, but you have to go to work/college/school, so you call an auto and get into it and heave a sigh of relief. But your relief is short lived as you notice the auto driver adjusting his rearview mirror to catch glimpses at you, and you try you level best to keep a somber expression and you stubbornly look at the road instead.

At the next signal you are caught off guard by some guy who puts his hand into the auto through the window and pinches your breast(in lightning speed) as he zips by. By the time you get over the shock and the pain, he has sped off and you are left feeling dirty and filthy and all you can think of, is how you need to take a bath. Badly.

Finally you reach your destination and as you walk towards it, you jump out of your skin as a car hurtles towards you, and swerves just before running you over. The driver stops, just in time to cackle loudly along with his cronies at your discomfiture and drives away.

You have had enough. You need that shower. You need to rub that feeling off your skin. Now.

Women, isnt this what you go through, in some form or the other, every, single, day?
Mentally you are traumatised. Paranoia takes over. You dont even want to wear the same clothes that you were wearing "that" day. The day you finally come to terms with it, is the day you get harassed again. All the pseudo bravado is shattered.

So what are you supposed to do?

First and most cardinal, be PSYCHOLOGICALLY prepared for it. Do not be insecure or nervous, that is your downfall. Be cautious and alert instead.

IGNORE all the "good advice" from people, who say that you have to dress in a certain way.

It is as baseless as saying that you got robbed because you were carrying a lot of money. Poor robber what was he supposed to do? He couldnt control himself, because you were carrying a lot of money so its your fault, not the robber's. It is as absurd as that. So wear what you want.

Grow long nails. Very useful.

Gauge the perpetuator. This is very important.

If it is a single guy or a couple of guys, hit back. Please dont remove chappals and try to hit him. It is a WASTE of time and time is the essence here. Carry a huge handbag and fill it up. Hit him with that in the groin area.

If you are comfortable with using your hands and legs use your knee in his groin area, shove your fingers under his adams apple or his eyes( these have worked for me very effectively).

Scream. As loud as you can. As loud as you can possibly be. As loud as your life depends on it. Dont stand there with a stupefied expression on your face.

Walk as if you know where you are going, even if you don't. A potential eveteaser can always pick out a girl who is nervous or insecure or lost.

Take that innocent, 'holier than thou' look off your face. You are only asking for trouble.

And last but definitely not the least, be brave enough to FILE A COMPLAINT. There is nothing wrong with a woman going to a police station. NOTHING. I know you will feel guilty by the disapproving eyes of the policemen at the station. They might even talk you out of filing a case with the laughable plea: "Please, think of this boy/man as your brother/father, do not ruin his life, he has a family". But do not succumb, and just go ahead with a stony face and FILE that complaint. KPS Gill was arrested for slapping Rupan Deol Bajaj on the butt. If she was brave enough to file a complaint against KPS Gill, then you can cough up the courage too.

We have always been told that as girls we should keep our voice, down, our eyes low, that we should never, ever protest and that we should always get used to "men being men".
But women you should learn to give as good as you can get. And what have you got?
Harassment.

So isnt it time you learnt to fight back? To give back?

Women, it's about time that we showed that girls aren't feeble, faint hearted creatures, incapable of fighting back.

Lash out at men who treat us as the so-called weaker sex.

This is not our birthright.

We dont have to live this this.

Post script: For those of you who might argue that the 'scenario' I described above is arbit or whatever.....listen.

That scenario, happened to my 15 year old sister, on her way to school. Every incident, as I had described, happened to her on the same day, one after the other.

P.P.S: This article was brought to my attention by Venkat Ramanan:

Atanu Dey on violence against women.

He gives insightful tips on how to control the menace of street harassment.
So take heed of the plug peeps, and check it out!

Action Hero Megha Krishnan

http://tamilpunkster.blogspot.com

Hello I Said And Looked Away...

It was a month or two ago. I was returning home, from downtown Los Angeles. Tall, shiny buildings, traffic clogging every junction and people waiting to go home. I stepped into the last Dash F - it runs past 23rd St at Figueroa before going around school. As I sat between two women, all of us gathering every thought we'd tucked away throughout the day, to think about in these few minutes... the man sitting opposite me said hi.

Hello I said and looked away. I remembered him as lascivious from a bus ride before. He had said something about how Asian women are all dark and pretty. Not really, I remember having said to myself about the dark bit. But this time, he proceeded to keep his shirt unbuttoned and kept staring at me as he touched himself now and then. He got off a stop before me after a cheerful "see you again!"

He could have groped me and I would have still felt as violated as I did that night.
Add to that a bus driver who introduces me to everyone as his wife-to-be. He also tells me loudly (whenever I happen to be in his bus) about how my boyfriend should have wild sex with me. "If only you'd be my woman, I'd show you good times," he said once as his eyes tried to reach behind my shirt. Only my boring black bra and a pair of breasts, nothing unusual I wanted to say.

Sometimes I think these stories are worthless to tell. But at others like these, maybe not

- Action Hero Aarthy

Which way are you goin'?

Over this past week, consequent to the blogathon, I have begun to ponder over issues that I had never really considered in the past.

For instance, does being a part of the Blank Noise Project automatically make me a feminist? What is feminism in our times? We've come past the suffragettes, we've come past the bra-burning stage but women are still oppressed and they are still fighting glass ceilings.

I came across the Wikipedia definition, which I feel is broadbased and quite comprehensive. And I can apply 'a diverse collection of social theories, political movements, and moral philosophies, largely motivated by or concerning the experiences of women, especially in terms of their social, political, and economic situation' to my own involvement with Blank Noise Project. I did join the project to be a part of something that, ultimately, aims to create a legal space for sexual crimes that have been trivialised too much, for too long. Anyhow. This is something I shall have to grapple with for a while, I think.

While reading the blogathon posts, I came across this one, which included a response to a comment I had sent Jasmeen before joining the core team and she decided to post it on the blog.

It may be a bit late to, and maybe I need not, but let me clarify.

No, just checking out a woman does not amount to street harassment, or eve teasing, if you will. Certainly not. In that post, I wrote - 'you do not have the right to stare at my body and imagine what I look like, naked'. And I meant that because how often have women been subjected to long, leering, lecherous stares that make you want to go home and take a very hot bath?

I did not mean to 'make even decent men, who may steal a glance or two, feel like a serial rapist who has “defiled their soul” by virtue of their glances. The contention that looks leave scars on a womans mind is, well, overstating the case'.

Indeed, I rest my case at the mention of the word 'glance'. And calling decent men serial rapists is also overstating the case. I don't think we've ever done that or ever intend to, at Blank Noise.

In fact, one of the major tasks we have is to define street harassment. When does a look cross the line into being a scarring leer? How do we define this adequately enough to not have to argue all the time?

Action Hero Chinmayee Manjunath

http://memoryanddesire.rediffiland.com

Remembering Prathiba

I am sure many remember the case of Pratibha, an employee of HP who was raped and killed by a cab driver in December last year.

Although I do not know her personally, being an employee of HP ties me with her identity. I am given to think that if could happen to her, it could well, happen to any of us who are in her position, as vulnerable and as unsuspecting as she was.

It is definitely not the company’s fault. I know how much care goes into selecting a cab driver. The newly appointed cab drivers are watched for a period of a few months until the company is assured of his credibility. Is it right to blame the victim, right from her choice of shift to clothes? No. No one else is to be blamed other than the perpetrator of crime in such cases. But, enough has been spoken and heard about the cruelty of certain men who indulge in such brutal actions.

Instead of trying to indulge in fault finding, we can create a better world by finding solutions to the problems. The western world is aware of defense products like stun guns, pepper sprays etc., but we are totally incompatible with such ideas. A training in martial arts is not every woman’s cup of tea. So, that leaves us with just one weapon - COURAGE!

Action Hero AK