Women In Politics

It does not matter to anyone in power that out of 8000 odd candidates who stood for the Lok Sabha elections in 2019, only 724 were women and not were elected. In 2014, only 63 women were elected to Parliament, a mere 11.6 per cent (even Pakistan and Bangladesh have a better record). Till the pending Women’s Reservation Bill of 2008 is passed, that promises 33 per cent reservation for women in the Lok Sabha, the number of women elected representatives will remain dismal, even as in most other areas traditionally dominated by men—like science, finance, industry and defence, women are making impressive progress.

There is 33 per cent reservation for women in Panchayats, but it is no secret that many of the women who stand for elections are mere proxies for their male relatives, who wield the real clout.  It is perfectly acceptable to our patriarchal society, that the doors to power are open only to women who are related to influential men, or, have a strong ‘godfather.’  It does happen sometimes, like it did in the case of Indira Gandhi, that the woman dismissed as Pandit Nehru’s “dumb doll,” turned out to be a tough leader, later referred to as the only man in the Cabinet, which was a kind of compliment—a woman has to have masculine traits to survive in politics.

So apart from the proxies, other women who seem to get tickets or Rajya Sabha nominations are actresses. And never mind if they deliver on their poll promises, they are targeted with the worst kind of sexist jibes from men. It needs nerves of steel to put up with the kind of abuse, say Smriti Irani, has to put up with. She may make the occasional (okay, frequent!) gaffe, but so do male politicians, but they are not subjected to such vicious trolling.

As the election process this year, the trolling was particularly brutal towards women  like Priyanka Gandhi, Atishi Marlena, Hema Malini, Jaya Prada, Moon Moon Sen, Urmila Matondkar, Mimi Chakraborty and Nusrat Jahan—except for the first two names, all are actresses.

The woman who captured the maximum media attention in this election, after PM Narendra Modi and his wingman Amit Shah, was Pragya Singh Thakur—or Sadhvi Pragya as she calls herself—the saffron-clad BJP candidate from Bhopal, who turned out to be the slayer of a political dragon of the status of Digvijaya Singh.

She came into the arena with a history of violence—accused in the Malegaon blasts, and a self-confessed participant in the destruction of the Babri Masjid.  She brushed away, with remarkable nonchalance, the criticism for making nasty statements like having cursed Hemant Karkare to death, or calling Mahatma Gandhi’s assassin Nathuram Godse a patriot (which even Narendra Modi could not condone), or ridiculous proclamations like having cured her cancer with cow urine.

It needs to be noted, however, with a mix of consternation and grudging admiration that her followers find her fearless and outspoken—qualities usually associated with male leaders, and reviled in women. According to her Wikipedia page, she has been a “tomboy” since her childhood, keeping short hair, and dressing like a boy. She was often called 'the girl with boyish looks'. She loved riding bikes. It was a motorcycle registered in her name which led to her arrest in connection with the Malegaon blasts.”

When, according to Supriya Sule (who later said she was misquoted), women gossip, discuss sarees and beauty salons in Parliament, and Farooq Abdullah was reported to have said that there should be 50 per cent reservation for women only for their sarees and perfumes, a woman wearing a cloak of religion and without vanity or greed for wealth, can be trusted to lead, like a man—the ultimate stamp of approval from a male-dominated society.

Mayawati and Mamata Banerjee, exhibit leadership (some say rabble-rousing) qualities to match or surpass many a male politician—the former is known for her penchant for expensive clothes, accessories and statues, but the stark simplicity of the latter’s crumpled cotton saris and chappals place her above the carping about female vanity that stuck to Tamil Nadu’s star-turned-politician, Jayalalitha.

The misogyny woven into the Indian social fabric may have prevented accomplished women from entering politics, but it is about time the field was leveled and deserving women invited to participate in governance by major political parties. Which might happen when the game of thrones ends, and real nation building begins.

(This piece first appeared in The Free Press Journal on May 23, 2019)