It always perplexes me when a few people decide to become the true advocates of 'Indian' culture and tell everybody else what that means
That the dhoti has fallen out of favour with men Sabyasachi manages to completely overlook. But women who don’t know how to tie a sari must apparently be ashamed of their ignorance. Representation pic/Thinkstock
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Every day, I remind myself not to see the world too squarely through my gendered vision. I don't always succeed, but it isn't my fault. It seems like every day there is some man in power somewhere in the world who says something so absurd and baffling that I forget what century it is.
Just look at the past week. From comments about women's demonic laughter to our preference for beer-allegedly a sign of civilisational descent, to what we wear or don't wear or no longer wear. A woman's body continues to be a site of contestation. What happened to all the ideological strides we were meant to make? What happened to the notion of being an enlightened, sentient race?
My love affair with the sari is now eight years old. I didn't grow up learning to wear one, even though my mother did occasionally wear them to work. I lived in a Goan Catholic household and having been westernised centuries ago by the Portuguese, we had a complicated relationship with the sari. Yet, at this moment in time, I easily own around 60 saris. I have been exposed to the richness of our country's textile tradition as a result of my fascination with the sari.
When I went to Nalli's a few months ago to buy a sari for my mother, I realised that the heady thrill I get from touching an exquisite Kantha or Chikan is unparalleled by a Zara or a Mango outfit, no matter the cost. But then Sabyasachi, who has made his living selling designer editions of the sari, exhibits foot-in-mouth syndrome and castigates women for presumably not keeping the tradition alive.
That the dhoti has fallen out of favour with men he manages to completely overlook. But women who don't know how to tie a sari must apparently be ashamed of their ignorance. Between our Prime Minister, Goa's Chief Minister, and Sabyasachi, who was speaking at Harvard University, it's difficult to decide to whom this week's award for best misogynist should go. What do the three have in common, beside their status as proliferators of patriarchy? Their self-defence is that they're only upholding Indian culture.
Given that so many of us who consider ourselves Indian citizens are post-colonial subjects with complex histories who come from syncretic contexts, we have the luxury of being a heterogeneous society. So, it always perplexes me when a few people decide to become the true advocates of "Indian" culture and use their power to tell everybody else what exactly that means, usually because their understanding of Indian-ness is especially myopic.
The fact that we are even a nation is mind-boggling, considering how much diversity we lay claim to-geographic, cultural, religious, and linguistic. There is no singular way to be any of our many identities. And yet, instead of embracing our plurality and dismissing even the contention of a homogenous notion of Indian-ness, we are, every day, being fed the narrative of essentialism which means you can only 'be' something by behaving a certain way.
Under this construct, to be a good Indian woman, you must know how to wear a sari, you must also agree to be seen when summoned, and not be heard unless explicitly spoken to. You must respect your elders, even if they are abusive towards you. You must marry whom you are instructed to wed, then produce this stranger's male offspring. You must be self-sacrificing and not laugh too loudly in public or earn more than your husband. I think this is the version of womanhood that the Indian patriarchy really wishes to continue to perpetuate.
If you demand for any change or empowerment, then this patriarchy, in its Khap Panchayat avatar, will threaten to not allow your gender to be born - a threat not without precedent.
The idea is that as women, we're supposed to settle for whatever little freedoms we have been given, even the ones for which our foremothers and we so zealously fought. It means that if you do not follow convention, if you refuse to be told how to live your life, you are instantly a rebel. I've always maintained that feminism is a lifestyle, not just an ideology. But the time has now come when we, as feminists, must also legitimately consider ourselves to be revolutionaries.
Some people are born with power, especially men. While some, like most of our gender lucky enough to have been born alive, have to fight for the right to our pluralistic identities. Empowering ourselves today involves everyday revolutionary acts. The most basic among these is to call men out (and occasionally, women too) on their misogyny while never allowing their diktats to govern our behaviour, identities, and choices.
When in doubt, remember these words by Mary Wollstonecraft, our 18th Century feminist foremother: "I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves."
Deliberating on the life and times of Everywoman, Rosalyn D'Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx. Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
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