Showing posts with label personal account. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal account. Show all posts

Tuesday, 12 August 2014

How My School Taught Me To Be A Girl

Gender stereotypes that go on to define individuals start right in school, and must be questioned, says this deeply thoughtful post.
“pull up your socks, wear a longer skirt”
“don’t be so loud, don’t sound too bossy”
“wear a white hairband and oil your hair well”
“cross your legs. (you stupid girl), cross your legs”
“how dare you apply a deodorant again? You are such a stubborn brat”
_________
I went to a very good school in Delhi. And I start here by not being mistaken as one who ridicules the education she got from there. What my school also gave me are memories – of how my being a girl was reinforced day after day by the way I should conduct myself, the activities I should do, the groups I should join and most importantly, the way I should behave and dress.
Since the very beginning, I used to wonder why oiling my hair and putting a white hair band was a more important issue than me coming to school. I mean, common, we all know that there is no scientific proof to showcase how great a student who regularly oils her hair, has pigtails, and socks up till knees, is. But I saw everyday how often our female teachers ridiculed the girls who challenged any of these rules. I have strong images of the events that took place during school days in my head.
Once, I was called out by my teacher after a regular period in the class and yelled at for not sitting with my legs crossed. I was told how I was being a bad girl, inviting boys to lurk on me. I was not just yelled at, but thereafter was always looked upon with suspicious eyes. As a young girl in standard 7, it confused me how my sitting down unknowingly with legs open was a reason for my teacher to judge me as a person.
In another year, I was the class monitor. And often, told to indulge in the things I didn’t like but my class teacher did. One not-so-fine day, she was out there measuring the length of the skirts every girl wore in the class. And with a compass in her hand, opening the seam of the skirts from the bottom, if found not adhering the school/class norms.
I was asked to get hold of my classmate’s arms while my teacher openly un-sewed the seam of her skirt from the bottom in front of a class of 50 students. Scared of being punished, I did as I was told. Ashamed of how it all happened, I still sit down and wonder how the length of skirt, and public humiliation, was a symbol of discipline. How my female teacher never taught the boys to not stare at our legs but told us to hide our skin. How this all was a way of making us better adults.
Meanwhile, as years passed by, I questioned marks as much as I questioned the ways the system worked in the school. Over the years, I saw our teachers giving sore eyes to the girls who were seen talking a lot to the boys. Those who were too outspoken were shunned as rude and undisciplined. I never was a very brilliant, high-scoring student. I never knew why my mathematics teacher always found a way to shun the girls in front of the ‘talented’ mathematics genius boys our school was full of.
She  would often tell my mother how I would never make anything meaningful out of my life because I scored less in mathematics. Never appreciated for the other subjects I was good at. Acceptance in my school for being what you are was always low. A lot of the teachers appreciated the brilliant “rote-heads” who puked everything they were taught verbatim on their exam answer sheets.
A lot many times I sat there wondering why my class teacher would often tell me to be little less outspoken and little more committed to learning. Learning which meant less creativity, innovation, and passion. She never understood that to me, mathematics never gave any excitement.
In my last year at school, I became the head girl – the one responsibility that was only given to the top scoring girls in the school. Leadership, after all, was only linked to those who were either teachers’ favorites or scored high. I never understood why and how this happened but I do remember the smile on that one teacher from my school who always pushed me to pursue my dreams, cherishing my creativity.
When I stood there on the stage, our school principal proudly putting my Head Girl badge on my shirt told me, “You better study well. This badge does not mean you don’t study”. That last year at school I was told again and again, silently and loudly, in front of many, that I was rude, stubborn, with attitude, and bossy – because I had a responsibility to carry. Marks never excited me. They made me sad, because for me, they were how my surroundings defined failures and success.
When I completed my school, I got admission into one of the best colleges in the city. Happy to share this information with my teachers, when I went back, I was told how unlucky and average I was because I didn’t get admitted to any engineering or medical schools like the boys of my class did. “This course is futile for you”, said the mathematics teacher. I smiled, because I realized I was out of this cycle of constantly being reminded that being a girl meant being less.
Along with carrying out cherished memories from the school days, I carried a burden of gender stereotyping. It was not that every girl conformed to the socially acceptable roles that the school defined for them. But the way they were either accepted or rejected created a lot of confusion and imbalance in the minds of many who wished to differ from the norms.
Sex education was never given. Neither were we given any counselling during our adolescent days. Those girls, who talked about it, became the talk of the school. Instead of talking about equality and respect, we were taught to keep our instincts off in the name of conduct. Those girls who had short haircuts were taken to be like boys.
A lot of the reports have suggested that children learn gender from being constant subjects of society’s expectations. I don’t think that putting pressure on children to conform to the traditional expected roles that society has made for them is what will make them better humans.
While the girls were given this, I am sure there were a hundred boys who wanted to cry but never did. Those who wanted to say they appreciated pink, but were ‘demeaned’ and ‘laughed on’ to be girly. ‘Boys will be boys’: we can never know what psychological impact this statement causes on the ego of the boy who turns into a man in few years.
Teaching a girl that shorts are for boys, cross-legs is for girls is not how she has to be taught about femininity. Similarly, teaching a boy that to be loud and sporty means to be masculine is equally wrong. Girls are pretty and quiet and boys are sporty and loud, does not make a good impact on the ‘power dynamics’ that we as children grow up with, into adults in this society.
I know times are changing. I know schools are changing. But I do feel that there is a majority of educational institutions that have conditioned girls and boys to grow up as they are in this present era, patriarchal victims and criminals. What is education? Shouldn’t it be more than mere learning from books and getting marks? Do we promote equality from the start? Gender equality?
I was lucky my college shaped a lot of my present being. But do we have such structures for the rest to re-condition this gender stereotyping they gain in homes and schools? Just food for thought!
This article was first published on womensweb 

Saturday, 1 February 2014

Women, Travel & Safety: A Personal Account

“Don’t travel after 6.”
“Take the Women’s Cell number, store it on your speed dial.”
“Put that app on your smartphone.“
“Don’t travel alone.”
“Inform us every time you get out of the hotel.”
“Where are you now?”
“Why didn’t you pick my call?”
—–
I am expressionless. Every single time I plan travel, for work, study or fun, these questions are thrown at me by my parents and other loved ones around. Earlier, as a young girl they used to annoy me; a few years later, I understood their anxiety and now, I am mostly in the ‘same answer for every question’ mode. As a single woman who loves traveling, who wants to witness more of her own country than she sees the world, these questions come as a mood spoiler. I understand their pain, I see the worry, I know I would react like this had I been in their shoes, but then somewhere I don’t get it.
There was this story recently about a married woman being raped by the staff in a high end resort in Kerala, where she was on a work trip. And then, only today I read about this tourist in Puducherry who was raped multiple times by some 12-15 men in groups of two after being kidnapped from a Christmas party she was attending with some friends. And then a story of a woman raped by police officers in a police station. There have been many stories, one every day, acting like a hair raiser for me.
Women, travel and safetyI travel alone. Mostly. And when I do that, I see this worried look on my mothers face. I don’t blame her. Given the times in which we live, India especially doesn’t look safe for any woman. Be it me as a citizen, or any friend as a tourist, the questions that surround us while we travel in India (even abroad sometimes) are more to do with safety than anything else. I remember that day on the beach in Sri Lanka when a man looked at me with leering eyes trying to signal to me in broad day light. I also clearly remember every single person in villages in India telling me to not get out of my room or house after 6 pm/dark. I also remember how I was being followed by a group of men in Orissa. I remember that cold night in Madhya Pradesh and my hostel warden telling me to not open the door for anyone, anyone! I remember that dark night in Patna and a shared auto ride I took to my guesthouse that still gives me gooseflesh. I remember those auto drivers who try to act smart. I remember being mistaken for a foreigner in my own country, leered at even more.
These are memories I carry with me on every next trip I go on, especially alone. Harsh as they sound, they have made me stronger and somewhat more vigilant every next time. But every single time I look back, I realize how something serious might have happened, how I just escaped a major life changing moment, how I was lucky enough, how I live in a country where every day I read stories of girls being molested in their homes, of women being raped while on the move, of tourists being subjected to violence and all I see is every incident flash before my eyes where I survived.
Do I have any gyan to share? No. Was I just lucky? Maybe. But the truth is that safety has been a big question that remains unanswered for every woman who plans to travel in India. (I know I sound a little too much against my own country but having travelled to other countries, I know the difference in level of safety.) Situations and questions are not the same when I am in other countries. My parents are a little less scared, the deadlines for being home are a little more flexible and even if I miss a few calls from them, they don’t panic very easily. Their reaction, “Beta, India is India. We know it’s very unsafe here.”
Unsafe in my own home? Maybe that’s the irony we face. I meet women abroad who are smug at the thought to coming to India post the December 16th incident. I stand there with a straight face while my patriotic spirit and reality check tear my heart and mind out and I become numb instead of fighting to give an answer. I know the flaws India has with respect to travel and safety for women. I know I live in a country where if a woman is raped at 4 am, instead of questioning the rapist, all fingers are pointed towards the victim and her character with respect to her being out of home at 4 am. I know I live in a country where safety has nothing to do with being an Indian or a foreigner, with being single or married, with being out on work or leisure, with being on a secluded road or being in a ‘safe’ high-end resort. The safety net seems non-existent.
But what should be the takeaway from these short incidents I carry? Should I stop traveling? Should I let fear take over me and stop me from experiencing my own country? Should I, being a single woman, only travel with my husband after I get married? No. I won’t let anyone fall for that. I have learnt to live with the questions that are thrown at me and I hate to see the worry, but do I expect the system to change soon? No. The situation is getting worse everyday with one or other woman being raped.
Travel and safety are not an agenda for any political party anywhere. The Women’s Cell seems like a useless structure to rely on. What do we have now? Smartphone applications to rely on? What about those women who don’t have cellphones and those places where internet reception is still a question? Speed dials, run for life, learn martial arts, keep pepper spray… do we have anymore survival tricks? The focus remains on from the victim’s side to save herself and not on changing the criminal angle. The reality is that law has failed women every time.
Violence against women is a broad term and while I survive each time, I wonder every single time I am out, if this is it. I am not worried about myself as much as I feel worried for those many women who face these issues along with me. When will the situations change? When will we come out of a phase where traveling for women can be stress free?
Do I sound extreme? Maybe, but this is my personal account. Till then, all I can hear while I am out is “Beta, take care of yourself” while I try to shut out those flying kisses being thrown at me and those leering eyes that literally strip every woman they see. The question remains, is ignoring the only solution we have?
Pic credit: Moyan Brenn (Used under a Creative Commons license
This article was originally published at Womens Web: http://www.womensweb.in/2014/01/women-travel-safety-india/