Feministaah

First the two shocking reports in the papers—just two among many—about how women’s issues are looked upon by those in power. Women in Ireland were in an uproar over the acquittal of a 27-year-old man for raping a 17-year-old girl in a muddy alleyway, because she wore lacy thong underwear, which, according to the defendant’s lawyer—a woman called  Elizabeth O'Connell  – was indication of consent. She is reported to have said, “  “Does the evidence out-rule the possibility that she was attracted to the defendant and was open to meeting someone and being with someone? You have to look at the way she was dressed. She was wearing a thong with a lace front.” Ireland may be lagging behind the world on the matter of women’s rights—the ban on abortion was overturned in May this year—but in the age of #MeToo, one would imagine the judges would be a little more enlightened.   Then, this totally ‘facepalm’ report that states that l eaders at a women’s resource cen...

    This happens every time I go for a routine test to a neighbourhood medical centre; without asking, they add a Mrs before my name in the bill. Each time, I have to patiently explain to the baffled person on duty, that firstly they cannot assume every woman is married; and secondly that all women use their husband’s surname. The surname I use is my father’s, I tell the bored young woman (usually a female), so it cannot be prefixed with a Mrs, please use Ms. Their computer does not seem to have that option. Even government and bank forms now give you a Ms choice, does this medical centre exist in the last century?   The young woman scratches out the Mrs with a pen, writes Ms and hands the paper back with a sour “ Bas , happy now?” expression.   The other thing that gets my hackles up is vendors in the market, cabbies, security guards calling every woman over the age of, say, twenty “ bhabhi .” They decide she is too old for baby and too young for aunty, so ...

The little boy makes a nuisance of himself—either at a visit to a friend or relative’s place, in school, on the playground, in a restaurant or a moviehall. He jumps on and off furniture, flings things around, makes a racket, picks fights with other kids and throws a tantrum if things don’t go his way. The father couldn’t be bothered—kids are the mother’s problem; the mother look fondly at the little monster and says, “Such a  goonda  he is, no?  He already has so many girlfriends, when he grows up he will be a heart-breaker.” And so it begins, the spoiling and ‘bratifying’ of Indian sons. The daughters are constantly told, sit properly, speak softly, come help mummy in the kitchen, don’t fight with  bhaiya,  go ask daddy what he wants to eat. So it begins, the ‘softening’ of Indian daughters, whose brains are filled with what is proper behavior for girls.   The sons see that they are treated differently, if not always better, than their sisters, and g...