Skip to main content

Jayalalitha is dead. Sexism in Indian politics is alive.



Yesterday, an astute politician and a popular leader, Jayalalitha passed away. There has been a spontaneous outpouring of genuine grief and deep dismay among most Tamilians. 

By all accounts, Jayalalitha had led an extraordinary life. From becoming a film heroine at the age of 16 to being a chief minister at the time of her death, much of Jayalalitha’s journey had been larger than life. She had had to display exemplary courage and tremendous willpower to defeat formidable foes, surmount numerous obstacles and beat impossible odds. Each time she was deemed vanquished, she rose like a phoenix from the ashes, stronger than ever before. And yet many of us are puzzled by her popularity, uncomfortable with the devotion shown to her and scornful of what we consider as the mindless sycophancy that reigns around her.

The underlying source of all this thinly disguised distaste is our deep-rooted and firmly entrenched belief in the inferiority of the woman. In plainer words: sexism and patriarchy. And so we circulate memes making fun of Mayawati and Mamata Banerjee. We cackle at the sartorial choices (Pink salwars) of Mayawati and roll our eyes at the ‘theatrics’ of Mamata Banerjee. We project our women leaders as stupid, illiterate, irrational, despotic drama queens scheming their way to power. With a smirk and a shrug, we proclaim “Little wonder that no one wants to marry them. Who would be able to tolerate their antics?” But it is actually no wonder that they end up looking as remote and bitter women.

And when I repeatedly use the word ‘we’, I refer to the smug, educated class of Indians to which I belong. The ‘illiterate masses’ of India seem to be far wiser. It is they who voted Indira Gandhi to power. It is they who gave Sonia Gandhi a resounding mandate in 2004. It is they who ensured that three of our chief ministers were women. We of course chose to sneer and forward memes on whatsapp.

Politics is the strongest bastion of the male species. It is through politics that the woman is controlled and subjugated. And so the key to power is fiercely guarded and any incursion by a woman is vehemently opposed. It took Indira Gandhi with Nehru for a father and Gandhi as a surname to finally storm the bastion. Even then, she was made the prime minister because of the arrogant sexist assumption that she would remain a ‘goongi gudiya’ (puppet) in the hands of older men. When she went on to assert her independence and led India to victory over Pakistan, she was lauded as the ‘only man in her cabinet’. Such is the role that patriarchal symbolism plays in Indian politics.   

Not everyone has the advantage of a surname and the luxury of a lineage. And thus, the Mayawatis, the Jayalalithas and the Mamata Banerjees are ridiculed and insulted. In her early political career, Jayalalitha was subjected to numerous lewd insults and even hair pulling. In the assembly, the so-called temple of democracy, she was almost disrobed. And so she had to re-brand herself as Amma. She had to de-womanize and de-sexualize herself by wrapping herself in layers of clothing and denying herself any jewellery. This was the only way she could survive, the only way she could protect her dignity and the only she could access power. And for this we call her remote, bitter and a despot. Similarly, both Mamata Banerjee and Mayawati had to undergo this process of desexualisation by branding themselves as ‘Didi’ and ‘Behenji’ respectively. And Mayawati of course had to bear the additional onerous burden of being a dalit.

This post is not to suggest that women leaders are immune to wrong doing or that they are more efficient or less corrupt than male politicians. Women leaders are of course vulnerable to all the trappings of power that their male counterparts succumb to. It is only a plea, asking you to judge them as you would any other politician and not hold them to higher standards. It is only to highlight the struggles that they have faced and the heroic battles that they have waged; to highlight the enormity of their achievements and the magnitude of their accomplishments. They don’t ask for your sympathy, but at least spare them your contempt.

This post is also not about criticizing or shaming the educated class. It is a request to identify and acknowledge the latent sexism still entrenched in our psyche. I do not claim that sexism prevails only among the educated class or that it is only prevalent in India. Far from it. It is merely a passionate plea, asking you to use the advantage of education to eliminate sexism and not promote it.

Each of us thinks that it is the others and not we who are sexist. But it is not just their malice and violence that breeds sexism and sustains patriarchy, it is also our scorn and indifference. Those memes are not funny and neither are they not harmful.  
     


p.s: When the statues of Jayalalitha are erected across Tamilnadu, as they inevitably will, for once, I will cherish and celebrate idolatry; because for years to come, young girls will have someone to inspire them, someone who was not just a mother and a sister, pious and chaste, but an independent woman who took on the might of patriarchy and the power of sexism. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Just how much did Sachin mean to us?

Aspiration for success is the single most natural thing in the world. It is not a trait unique to human beings alone; it is the very fundament upon which nature exists. It is what gives rise to evolution and results in life as we know it. And yet there are times, when even before you begin, you not just suspect that you will not succeed, but know that you are doomed to, and, will fail. Nonetheless, you go ahead and do it anyway. Because it is not a choice, but a call to duty; like a mountaineer attempting to scale that one last impossible peak, a surgeon trying to perform the miracle that will not happen or even a letter of infatuation that you know will never be reciprocated. Failure is merely a meaningless by-product. And so I attempt to put in words, the emotion that cannot be explained but only be felt, the phenomenon that cannot be understood but only be experienced and a love that cannot be rationalized but can only be succumbed and surrendered to. I attempt to both understa

Of Federer and Nadal; of Sport and Us

There were 13 players on the field. But one stood out. And he knew it. There was a swagger to his walk, poise in his posture and his entire demeanour was of a man who knew there were a million eyes on him; who not merely was aware of and acknowledged it, but also courted the attention, craved for it and feeded of it. As the ball soared off his bat, 50,000 rose off their chairs in unison; but even before the triumphal act was concluded, the smiles were wiped off their faces and there was tension in their eyes. The fielder settled under the ball; it was to be a regulation catch. But, was it to be? The floodlights shone down upon him, almost sinister in their intensity, but that did not matter; he has done this a thousand times before. What mattered though was the thousands of eyes boring into him, the unnatural silence, the searing hostility of strangers, the expectations of teammates and most of all the stature of the man of whose bat the ball has soared from and was now hurtling

57 Tabs: The Joys of Wiki-Hopping

It is 10 minutes past midnight. To my left, I have a box of refrigerated chicken popcorn from KFC, and to my right, I have my phone. In my phone, I have 57 tabs open; Wikipedia pages, they are.  The missus has abandoned me gone for a sleepover to a friend’s place and I have the house to myself. I snuggle under the blanket and reach for a book; ‘My name is red’. The data is switched off and the phone is a safe distance away, or so I think. Alas, no. I come across an intriguing word, reach for my phone and switch on the data. Google recommends Wikipedia; good friends they are. I read intently, for all of 3 minutes. Then, I long press and click on ‘open in a new tab’. Thus, begins the hopping; perpetual in scope and orgasmic in pay-off. Soon, I have 57 tabs open.  When I was growing up, during my primary school, there was a library in the neighbourhood. It was big, it was free and it was welcoming. Many a childhood hour was spent there; lost to the world and yet, at the same tim