India has done it
again. We are reliving the brouhaha after Slumdog Millionnaire.
And once again the messenger
has been shot because she is white.
The Indian government has banned Leslee Udwin’s
documentary, India’s Daughter, about the brutal 2012 rape in Delhi (and
subsequent death) of J.S., a 23-yr old student. This gruesome incident galvanized
a generation of youth in India, men and women alike, to protest against
violence towards women. Udwin’s motivation to make the documentary came from
this very phenomenon of a peaceful uprising by the youth demanding some
accountability. The protests in Delhi (and other cities) were the first of
their kind in India – a voluminous show of solidarity among the youth to
counter the ever-present predation of women. An additional impetus to make the
film comes from the desire to get to the root of violence against women, and rape
in particular. As a victim of rape herself, Leslee Udwin wanted to shed light
on the broader causes of such violence. On a televised forum she said she
viewed cases like the 2012 Delhi rape as symptoms
of larger causes. The film is her contribution to helping unravel the source of such heinous symptoms.
The film has extensive footage of interviews with the
parents of the victim. In the film, we get to see, in direct terms, the loss of
the daughter through the parents’ eyes. And through a friend of J.S’s, we get
a window into who the victim herself was. As it is illegal to disclose the name
of a rape victim in India, in the early aftermath of the incident, the victim
was dubbed Nirbhaya (one who is without fear) - a tribute to her fighting the
rapists, and her tenacity to hang onto life for a few days, despite the
horrific extent of her injuries. If there is any subtle message that this
documentary tries to imbue, it is to re-inforce that Nirbhaya’s life and
aspirations were so violently cut short for no good reason. If you followed the
news about this rape in 2012, there is nothing of “shock value” that the documentary
adds. And it doesn’t aim to. Aside from
a few gruesome details about J.S’s injuries that may not have made it to the
newspapers in 2012, there is nothing new that we learn.
The documentary contrasts the life of J.S. (as seen
through the eyes of her parents and her friend,) with the viewpoint of a few in
the Perpetrator Camp. Considerable camera-time is given to Mukesh Singh, one of
the accused, - the driver of the bus.
The film showcases the mindset of not just Mukesh
Singh, but his lawyers too. We get to see that there is not an iota of remorse
in the words of Mukesh Singh - nor in his tone or demeanor. He, along with his
lawyers, squarely blames the victim for all that she endured.
Despite the film being banned, the extremely
misogynistic opinions of Mukesh Singh and his lawyers are plastered across
print media in India for all to read. There is nothing new you will learn from
the film that you don’t already know. The
film is merely a reminder, or rather, a confirmation, of your worst fears: That
misogyny is all-pervasive. That it is not restricted to a few depraved souls,
nor is it the result of poverty or a lack of education. It has firm roots in
the Indian psyche.
Weeding out something that is so deeply ingrained
seems near impossible, especially in this culture of righteousness that has
taken a renewed hold of India.
Awareness is the first step to rooting out social
ills. So if you have nothing to contribute to this latest discussion on gender
violence, please stay out of it. But
don’t sabotage the efforts of those who
choose to make themselves more aware.
Righteousness is a cultural value ascribed especially
to the Indian Woman. It has been glorified, sought after voluntarily, or fed
down unwilling women’s throats for several generations past. The Indian woman who deviates from this path
of righteousness deserves what she gets! That is the essence of the message
from Mukesh Singh and his educated lawyers.
Some commentators on social media are dismayed that
the perpetrators were given a platform to air their malignant thoughts. If you
were offended by Mukesh Singh's lack of remorse, perhaps you should direct some
of that affront towards meaningful change: towards changing the attitude of
victim-blaming. Begin by allowing people to watch the film and make themselves
doubly aware that victim-blaming exists, and that it transcends boundaries of
caste, class and education.
In recent months, several countries have issued
travel advisories to their women citizens wishing to travel solo to India: ~
Don’t! A spate of rapes in cities across India of foreign women travelers is
what has led to this separate but common warning. It is easy to see that these
warnings stem from a desire to keep female citizens of those countries safe, in
the face of a spurt in violence against foreign women. Nobody (with any degree
of credibility) would cite these warnings as instances of Gender Policing.
Gender Policing is when there is an enforcement of
gender-normative behavior on an individual. Gender policing works to delegitimize and devalue behavior and expressions that deviate from the gender norm.
Victim-blaming in rape is a prime example of gender-policing. Having the
opinion that women bring about their own destruction by wearing certain clothes
and going out after sunset is gender policing.
The problem with identifying and eradicating gender
policing behaviors in a climate of violence against women is that they are hard
to recognize because they overlap with common
sense rules for safety. In places where there are high crimes against women,
even the most liberal person might recommend to daughters and sisters that they
should watch for their safety by not
engaging in behaviors that might leave them vulnerable to attack. In gender
policing, misogynists say the same thing: Don’t engage in certain behaviors. The
difference is that in gender policing you are punished if you do. Rape and
honor killings are examples of punishments meted out to those who stray from
gender- normative behavior.
This message is loud and clear in India’s Daughters.
The words of Mukesh Singh and his two lawyers make it amply clear that their
thinking is not that of eccentric outliers. It is alarmingly main-stream. One
lawyer uses the metaphors of “diamond” and
“flower” for women. The other lawyer declares, without hesitation, that he
would pour petrol on his daughter and burn her alive for defying ascribed
gender-roles.
When you shed the coat of vulnerability and
submissiveness that you are given by being born female, you are stepping out of
the role ascribed to you. Victim-blaming will always exist so long as submissiveness
and vulnerability are considered womanly virtues. So the next time you caution
your daughters and sisters to “stay safe,” be aware that your message mirrors
that of gender policing misogynists. Distance yourself from this overlap, even
if it is only mentally.
The Nirbhaya
case has certainly become the 21st century symbol in India, of
violence against women. It has forced discussions about gender disparity like
no other single incident has. For that very reason, to critique a film about
this landmark crime on artistic grounds and on its merits as a documentary is misguided. To ban it and
prevent people from watching it is irresponsible. If the Indian Government has
embarrassed itself (again) by this ban, the redeeming factor is that there are
many who are protesting the ban.
My desire to watch the film was not for
entertainment. I didn’t care if the documentary was not nuanced enough, or if
things were over-dramatized, as some critiques imply. For me, it was one more
source of information that adds to the mish-mash of material that contributes
to making sense of so many contradictory forces in the Indian mindset.
India is full of empty clichés of female power:
Bharat Mata (Mother India), Durga Devi, Kali Mata, Shakti Devi and innumerable
goddesses in mythology. If it’s money you seek, honor Goddess Lakshmi. Pursuing
the Arts? First, a blessing from Saraswathi, Goddess of Knowledge and Arts! On
this eve of International Women’s Day 2015, forget these imaginary forces of power: Worship the real women in your lives!
I loved your essay!
ReplyDeleteThanks Chaya.
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