I didn’t need to leave home to know that in most of the world a person’s life is inordinately hard simply because their sex chromosome was defined XX instead of XY. Our time in India revealed parts of the labyrinth that their women must navigate. With my hideous Western travel garb and my pasty white skin in a sea of colorful sari-clad, dark-skinned beauties, I did not blend and certainly could never truly understand their experience, but that should be a given. I can, however, share a few things I learned from my experiences and conversations, several which gave me pause…
A key issue to understand is that people prefer males for culturally significant reasons. The parents of girls must provide a dowry, a wedding with all that that entails- food, gifts, clothes and gifts to the groom. Apparently the pressure is increasing to have wildly extravagant affairs, creating financial Armageddon for many in the lower and middle class. People begin saving for these events the day their daughter is born. Additionally, a son traditionally cares for his parents in their old age since the daughter cares for her in-laws. Only a male can perform last rites (lighting the funeral pyre) and only he can carry on the family name. These traditions lead to sex selection before or after birth. (PBS did a nice piece on this conundrum. http://www.pbs.org/wnet/religionandethics/episodes/april-5-2013/india-sex-selection/15745/)
One thing I have been curious about is bathroom availability. Last summer a NYT article entitled “A Campaign Against Restroom Injustice” surprised me and made me conscious of women’s restrooms during my time in India. (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/06/15/world/asia/in-mumbai-a-campaign-against-restroom-injustice.html?pagewanted=all) The first thing I did notice was Indian men peeing everywhere: partially–open latrines, alleys, fields, walls, out in the open facing away from the crowds. A funny visual was a man outside a 5 latrine bathroom peeing on its wall.
When visiting with the lovely proprietress of a top Jaipur guest house, she remembered to me when the women would get up before sunrise to go out to the fields together to relieve themselves and again together after dark. They were not supposed to be seen so that was the only time they went “to the bathroom” as these women did not have toilets in their homes. Also, when we were in Jaipur’s Old Town, a shiny, new bathroom facility sparkled like an oasis in the desert. Delighted, I took a closer look. The women’s section had two parts; one door, I presume to a Western toilet, was padlocked, and the other side was a regular Eastern in-ground toilet but it was open to the street without a door or curtain, rendering it virtually useless. Later, in Varanasi, our well-educated, seemingly savvy guide replied to my inquiries with, “Biologically, Indian men just need to pee more. Women are used to it [lack of toilets].” A natural body function continues to be a worry, an embarrassment, another problem. I envision a Friends School fundraiser to build a women only restroom facility entitled, ‘We Give a Sh#*’ [about Indian women!]. Just a thought..
Another issue made apparent during our visit was how human sexuality was used as another way to set women apart. Throughout the major cities women are routinely groped on busy subway cars. In fact, the government added women only cars to address this. In Delhi, we were blocks away from the country’s top hospital where the 5 year old, who had been raped and neglected by the police, was fighting for her life (ultimately unsuccessfully). There were crowds protesting this child’s treatment. Caste distinctions and police corruption were central to the horror of this sad story but the media took the opportunity to address the fact that there had been an outbreak of rapes of young girls. They chalked this up in part to the fact that sexual education is not taught in the schools so there was little guidance to healthy, normal relationships. Things were going awry. Greer found out firsthand part of the media’s discussion when he had to use the guesthouse’s office computer to send a youTube video to his Spanish teacher. When he signed on to youTube, 3 subscription sites self-populate; all 3 were porn sites. Not that young men everywhere don’t turn to pornography but the use of computers is spreading and when there is no other source of information, men get a skewed view of heterosexuality. Women are portrayed as objects and victims in violent scenarios. The Bollywood movies and music videos were toned down comparatively but depicted women as the much weaker sex: coy, dependent, and wildly forgiving of their male partner’s shortcomings.
These things were largely what I learned about or saw. The following are things that I experienced uniquely because I am a woman. They come from my journal.
‘After a harrowing bike ride through backstreets of Delhi, we wandered through the ruins of an old Hindu complex. On the second floor were the women’s quarters facing a courtyard. Standing there above a vegetable stand and makeshift temple, I blurred my vision and imagined what it would be like to see thing from a distance, unable to leave the premises or engage with the outside world. I shuddered.’
‘We walked next door to a neighborhood mosque. This one was not used to Westerners. (I should note here that Indians are mainly Hindu.) I was followed and spoken to by an older man in a language we clearly did not share. This lack of understanding in no way diminished his enthusiasm. I was instructed to stop and stand behind a screened wall where I could watch Harry and the boys enter the inner sanctuary. The design of the latticework created some sort of optical illusion so I stood there cross-eyed. Next to me was a woman covered in black, full Ninja (thanks Maureen Dowd) with netting covering her eyes and black socks and gloves covering her hands. Mind you, it is 110 degrees. I wondered what her days were like. It was such a weird few moments because I could feel a change. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it was but I was unquestionably LESS.’
‘Today at the deserted Gwailor Palace, I decided not to join the rest of the family in exploring the bat-infested basement and sat in the courtyard on a bench. Five men appeared and two sat, one on either side of me. Without addressing me, they began posing and snapping pictures. I averted my face and was clearly uncomfortable. They left without uttering a word to me. I knew it never would have happened had Harry, Greer or Leland been there.’
‘Our final day in Kolkata led us to the Victoria Memorial, a grand building dedicated to the Queen when the British were in charge but now houses a few galleries and is surrounded by lovely grounds. I sat alone waiting outside a gallery. An Indian boy about 6 years old was being dragged into the museum, trailing behind his father. He caught sight of me from a distance and stared blankly at me as he approached and then as he past me with head turned back. I was making my goofy I-can-make-you-smile face but the boy did not flinch. His mother holding hands with a slightly older boy looked at her poker-faced son then back at me. I thought nothing of it. A minute later, the older boy came up to me leading his little brother. He shook my hand and said, “Hello.” His little brother did the same. I said, “Namaste.” The older boy put his hands in prayer position over his heart and said, “Namaste.” The younger boy did the same. The older boy stepped toward me and touched my foot then his hand to his mouth, a sign of deep respect. Speechless, I gave a little laugh and screamed a belated, “Thank you!” across the room. Leaving the building, I felt slightly elated thinking maybe the women will take control of their power after all. The feeling continued as we came across a young couple lingering in the shade of the gardens, laughing and talking. The woman was wearing a t-shirt that read ‘I AM ENOUGH!’’
-carter
The Brighams Of Baltimore 