Considering how a significant number of girls across cultures are abused in their own homes, by so-called father figures, it is a bit rich for men to defend themselves with the line ‘Oh, but she is like my daughter’. Besides, abuse, harassment, molestation are not always perpetrated behind closed doors. Some men, we know, get excited by the idea of an audience. Harassment, in many cases, is less about a sexual predator getting his kicks out of pawing or flashing or groping. For many, it is a performance. And ingrained in our culture. Remember Mahabharata?
Dragging a woman by her hair to court, disrobing her as other men cheer on, humiliating her by slapping their thighs in invitation — the finest warriors and the fiercest kings had set a precedent. What a spectacle!
On such occasions, I always revisit an incident that happened with me many years ago in Lucknow. At the inauguration of the city’s first shopping mall, a ceremony hosted by the most powerful business family of the time, I was groped, humiliated by a pair of hands that belonged to a frenzied all-male mob. The hands still haunt me in my nightmares. I was part of the media delegation that had been invited to watch the obscene show of power. I was lectured by the bahu of the disgraced bizman — If you cannot handle a mob, you are in the wrong profession, darling!
Suddenly, the pair of hands that had pinched my breasts, seemed kinder than the entitled chhoti bahu, walking around in her gold anklets and high heels in a bubble of beefy bodyguards.
Which profession in the world comes with a Job Description that includes dealing with a predatory mob, unless you are hunting down the ISIS? Where is it written that an act of sexual harassment is only between two individuals? Why is it that when a woman decides to speak up, her most vociferous critics are other women around her?
The day after my trauma in the Lucknow mall, I was informed that another girl – who had been swept inside by a mob that was desperate to get in and get a glimpse of the celebrity guests – had worse luck. She was mauled, her dress was ripped off, and the attackers had a field day clawing, pawing and violating her in full view of the world. A photojournalist managed to click pictures of the ordeal and was brave enough to publish the photographs in a city tabloid the next day. But not before deflecting all attempts by the hosts to stop the pictures from going out.
A woman, a performer who dances seductively for the camera, is not ready meat. Just because she wears a costume and assumes a certain persona for professional reasons does not mean she is ‘available’. Besides, the word ‘available’ is quite problematic. The only things that should be ‘available’ are ripe, juicy mangoes throughout the year, clean seats on local trains, cheap air tickets to your hometown during festivals and shoes your size.
And, call me a cynic, but every time I hear the words, solidarity and sisterhood etc., I chuckle. Ladies, whether you are a ‘Bong’ starlet or an American legal professional, the best support you can ever get, is from your bra.
SPEAK UP
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