Romance
The Transparent Politics

Rubaiyat Hossain

Romance is like a drug. It gives people a high otherwise unattainable. It has the potential for becoming the centre of a woman’s life. It could sweep her off her feet, and paint her eyes with emotion-soaked dreams of becoming a wife and a mother. It could make her leave her job, career, passions, parents, and finally her friends. It basically has the potential for transforming a woman, who she used to be, her entire being. Romance or prem as we call it in Bangla is highly erotic. As it is not acceptable in our culture to speak openly about sex, not to mention have sex prior to marriage — prem is always laced with the anticipation of sexual pleasure. prem is also culturally constructed. The cultural construction of prem outlines the gender roles prescribed for males and females in our society. It is an enormously complicated area to speak of because our understanding of prem — what is romantic what is not, what is sexy what is not, what is a turn on, and what is a turn off — are always evolving with time. For example, back in the colonial time women with a certain amount of body fat were appreciated as icons of beauty, but today we have started to appreciate stick figures as models and icons of beauty. The idea of beauty changes with time, so does the idea of prem. Besides electronic media, literature plays a significant role in defining our idea of prem and the gender roles prescribed within it. As Bangladesh has moved through a rush of cable TV channels, internet access, cell phone epidemic within the past decade, the idea of prem or romance seems to be slightly shifting.

Nirad C Chowdhury argues that the notion of romance devoid of direct sexual encounter was a cultural revision ushered in by the English educated Bangalis in late eighteenth and nineteenth century Bengal. According to Chowdhury, prior to the British invasion, and the period of cultural exchange (mainly via English literature and Western philosophy) the idea of romance did not exist in India. What Chowdhury finds in pre-British Sanskrit and Bangala literature is not prem or romance, but kam (sexual desire). The notion of sex overruled the notion of romance in pre-British Bengal. Chowdhury’s ideas make total sense since there is a whole body of literature about the female emancipation project of nineteenth century Bengal testifying to the fact that the notion of femininity as well as the role of women were being drastically changed in this period. A new type of woman was needed for the new type of hybrid man created out of British education and ‘Indian blood, and colour.’ Sumanta Banerjee has written about the exclusionary process of creating a middle class bhadramahila by denying the cultural practices of the working class women as vulgar. Dipesh Chakrabarty discusses Rabindranath Tagore’s rendering of prem as ‘pabitra prem‘ or ‘holy prem,’ “ideal of love as a spiritual sentiment, as devoid of any hint of lust” (Chakrabarty 2000, 135). Therefore, prem was distanced from the concept of sexual pleasure in order to create an equivalent to the Victorian fixation on romance. As sexuality was removed from the centre of prem, new attributes, emotions and incentives were called in to fill the vacuum. Therefore, the pioneer writers of colonial Bengal, Bankim Chandra Chatterjee and Sharat Chandra Chatterjee emphasised the notion of patibrata (unconditional devotion towards husbands), sacrifice, and unconditional service to the family as some of the supporting elements of romance between a man and woman. The notion of motherhood also entered the realm of romance as the icons Durga and Kali appeared as the two main mother/female cosmic forces during this time. The claim of British masculinity that Bangali men were effeminate, and incapable of controlling their sexual urges might have been another force behind Bangali men’s cultural revision of prem. However, the Sharat Chandra brand of platonic love is not very popular in the media these days. On the contrary, a rather sexualised brand of prem has become popular. Though sex is not explicit yet, its implicit overtone has become much stronger. Post-Rabindranath literature have emphasised bodily attraction as a very important and crucial element of prem, especially writers like Buddadev Bose, Shunil Gangopadhay, and Shomoresh Bosu.

In contemporary Bangladesh Hindi television channels and Bollywood films have become the deciding factor of what should be considered romantic and not. I have watched with great amazement that even though the technicality, storytelling capability, acting, makeup, and overall technical feat of Bollywood have developed immensely since the 1990s — the subjugated role of women within the romantic framework remains the same. Sexuality has been brought to the forefront of romance in Bollywood films. It is not uncommon to hear discussions on sex-life and related issues in Hindi films these days. Actresses are more exposed than ever. Female flesh is on sale for a price higher than before. Women have been turned into nothing but sheer commodities today. They are still not seen in empowered roles. Women are still not shown as the primary characters in any mainstream films. Female actresses are paid less than their male co-workers. Basically an overall sense of female subjugation reigns over Bollywood, even though women seem to be at the forefront of the workforce, making a considerable amount of contribution to the industry. If we look at the popular notion of romance advertised in Bollywood films today, the innate politics of female subjugation becomes clear.

Take for example, Kuch Kuch Hota Hain. Kajol has to renounce her tomboyish attitude to fit into the role of Shah Rukh’s bride. The most disturbing element of the film is the moment when the two Khans start playing a tug of war at the mandap. Kajol does nothing but look helplessly with her two beautiful eyes and arched eyebrows at each man as she tries to make a decision. Her silence, subtlety and submissiveness are made to look very appealing, feminine, emotional, erotic and romantic. The question remains: is this the type of silenced roles we aspire to as women? Do we desire to become a piece of meat over which two men fight? Do we not have enough guts to speak up like a straightforward human being and say what we feel and want? A similar scene occurs in Veer Zara, when Zara is being seen off by Veer at the train station. Veer and Zara’s fiancé have a conversation regarding their feelings about this woman. Preity Zinta, however, stands slient with eyes cast down as the two men go on about her.

Domestic violence is also blended in with romance and sex in Yuva between Abhishek Bacchan and Rani Mukherjee. The fact that Rani is so petit and Abhishek so tall, accentuates the power dynamics of the relationship. Rani appears as petit, fragile, emotional and utterly beautiful. Abishek on the other hand is created as an opposite. He is a big man, cruel, deranged and brutal. Somehow these negative attributes in him emphasise his masculinity in contrast to Rani’s timid femininity. Romance between them is created with overtones of pain. They are seen to have a sexual encounter during a song, soon after Rani was beaten and thrown out of the house by Abishek. Many may say that it is a valid representation since it actually happens in real life. But the problem lies in the blending of aggressive masculinity, timid femininity and domestic violence within the framework of romance. In other words, it is detrimental to women when cinema makes male aggressiveness and female timidity appear to be sexy on screen. Devdas, for example, makes a scar on Paru’s face and this particular moment of violence is illuminated as a sensationally romantic one both in the novel and the film. Devdas forcefully makes a scar on Paru’s face so she will remember him forever. It is done as an act of claiming authority over Paru’s beauty, her sexuality, and finally her personhood. This type of violence, should have given rise to a sense of extreme anger and utter disgust in any sane and respectable woman. But in Devdas, Paru is overwhelmed by a romantic feeling for the man who just hit her! The gender roles prescribed for women in itraaz are also quiet fascinating. Priyanka Chopra is condemned because she is very aware of her career, her sexual needs, her beauty and her success. These qualities could look easily sexy on a man, take for example Saif Ali Khan from Dil Chahta Hain, he is made to look sexy because of his sexually promiscuous behaviour to an extent that it is made to appear as playful, boyish, and even innocent. Now it is up to us to put on our feminist goggles before we sit down and watch Hindi films, so we can enjoy it and at the same time critique its gender-biased framework of romance.

We must be aware of the fact that any type of inequality poisons the sense of love between a man and woman. We must be aware of the fact that most relationships are based on poisonous love. We must also remember that Manik Bandopadhay said, “bish khele-o nesha hoy” (drinking poison can also be addictive). Now it is up to us women to say no to this addiction.

 Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2005

Source Link : http://www.thedailystar.net/magazine/2005/08/03/perceptions.htm

Begum Rokeya
The Pioneer Feminist of Bangladesh

Rubaiyat Hossain

Begum Rokeya is the founding pillar of Bangali Muslim feminism. Her writings, actions, and resistances strategically pin point, analyse, and resolve gender biased social, cultural and political practices. Single–handedly she pushed through the dark veil of seclusion to usher in women’s education, mobility with moderate purdah, and economic independence. Besides establishing a girls school she was also the founder of Anjuman-e-Khawatin-e-Islam (1916), which functioned nothing short of what we recognise today as NGOs. Rokeya’s personal life was overwhelmed with tragedies with the lack of her mother’s love and attention, early loss of her husband, and finally the loss of her two precious baby daughters in infancy. She suffered immensely from a wave of criticisms and various obstacles in initiating social change for women. But she worked relentlessly literally till her last breath to bring changes to women’s downtrodden status. Begum Rokeya offered Bangali Muslim women books instead of kitchen utensils. She told them about the vast world outside the bundles of saris and jewellery, inspired them to break out of the patriarchal framework and taste their own individualities, and finally she called out to them with a sense of feminist sisterhood–Jago Go Bhogini (Wake Up Sisters)!

Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain was born in 1880 in Rangpur. Her father was a local zamindar and preferred to maintain strict purdah for the women in his family. Women in the household were taught only Arabic in order to read the Holy Quran, but as Rownak Jahan pointed out, “defying custom, and valuing their Bangali identity over their religious one, Rokeya and her gifted elder sister, Karimunnesa persisted in learning Bangla.” The names of Sakhawat Hossain and Rokeya’s brother Ibrahim Saber are often attached to Rokeya’s free expression and action, however, Karimunnesa, Rokeya’s sister, remained one of the key sources of inspiration for Rokeya’s struggle for women’s rights. Karimunnesa was an extremely talented young girl, who not only taught herself Bangla, but also wrote poetry in perfect verse. She was married off before the age of 15, thus, her thirst for knowledge was brought to an abrupt and forceful end. The waste of potential in the case of Karimunnesa terrified Rokeya to an extent that spreading education among women and ensuring their individual rights became Rokeya’s life long mission. Karimunnesa’s failure became the pillar of Rokeya’s success. Rokeya continued her studies with her elder brother Saber without the knowledge of other members of the family and continued to feed her passion for knowledge after getting married at the age of 16 to Syed Shakhawat Hossain, a widower of 39, in 1896.

Rokeya was well-versed in Bangla, English, Urdu, Arabic and Persian, but chose to write the bulk of her literature in Bangla except for a few pieces in English, including her first novel Sultana’s Dream (1905). Rokeya started writing her reformist pieces for various different magazines starting from 1903, which were later published under the title Motichur in 1908. Motichur part two was published in 1921, Padmaraga (novel) in 1924 and Oborodhbashini or the Secluded Ones in 1928. Rokeya Racanavali published by the Bangla Academy in 1973 included her unpublished writings and letters both in Bangla and English including her unpublished poetry. Begum Rokeya died on December 9, 1932, and up until 11 pm on December 8, 1932, she was working on an unfinished article titled, ‘Narir Odhikar’ or Women’s Rights. Two major organisational contributions Rokeya made for attaining women’s rights were her school and ‘Anjuman-e-Khawatin-e-Islam’ (Muslim Women’s Association). Sakhawat Memorial Girls’ School started off with eight students in 1911 in Kolkata, and by 1915 the number of students increased to 84. By 1930 the school had become a high school, including all ten grades. The curriculum included physical education, handicrafts, sewing, cooking, nursing, home economics, and gardening, in addition to regular courses in Bangla, English, Urdu, Persian, and Arabic. Rokeya emphasised on physical education because she believed that it was important to make women physically stronger, fit and confident. Rokeya also recognised the importance of women’s economic independence. Her curriculum therefore, included vocational training in crafts and sewing. She realised the importance organised action for changing women’s position and raising public opinion for it, therefore, she founded Anjuman-e-Khawatin-e-Islam in 1916. The activities of this organisation related directly to the disadvantaged and poor women. It offered financial support for widows, rescued and sheltered battered women, helped poor families to marry their daughters, and above all helped poor women to gain literacy. Rokeya ran a slum literacy programme in Kolkata by forming work teams to visit women in the slums to teach them reading, writing, personal hygiene and child care. Even though Rokeya made important contributions through her organisational effort, her writing remains her most significant gift to Bangladeshi women. Rokeya’s words are most surprisingly very relevant to our current status as women today. Even though Rokeya’s dreams regarding women’s education have been somewhat realised, her vision regarding women’s equality has not yet been established.

Begum Rokeya believed that men and women were created differently, but equally. In her views, the subjugated position of women was not due to Allah’s will, but due to men’s immorality, “there is a saying, ‘Man proposed, God disposes,’ but my bitter experience shows that, ‘God gives, Man robs’.” Rokeya believed that, “Allah has made no distinction in the general life of male and female–both are equally bound to seek food, drink, sleep and pray five times a day.” Rokeya used a fascinating logic to enforce the notion of gender equality within an Islamic framework, “[h]ad God Himself intended women to be inferior, He would have ordained it so that mothers would have given birth to daughters at the end of the fifth month of pregnancy. The supply of mother’s milk would naturally have been half of that in case of a son. But that is not the case. How can it be? Is not God just and most merciful?” (translated by Rownak Jahan).

Begum Rokeya coined the term ‘manoshik dashhotto’ or mental slavery to describe the loss of individuality in women, and identified this psychological phenomenon as the main force behind women’s subjugation. She believed that social systems like seclusion and purdah intentionally made women unfit and weak for survival in the public realm. Rokeya believed that men deliberately refuse women equal opportunities to cultivate their minds with the purpose of sustaining women’s dependence on men and further perpetuating women’s dependence on their own inferior status. Rokeya used examples of women who earn more than their husbands, but still submit to the men folk at home to point out that the framework of women’s subjugation exceed economic parameters. In Begum Rokeya’s view, manoshik dashhotto is at the core of women’s subjugated position. She summoned women to overthrow the invisible bondages of our brains, to strip off the transparent patriarchal exploitation, “The seeds of higher attributes have been destroyed in the female minds. Our inside, outside, brain, heart–all have become enslaved (dashi hoiyaa poryiachee). We are not entitled to have the freedom of our heart or perform the actions of our choice. Neither do we notice any effort to gain our freedom as women. Therefore, I want to say:Jago, Jago Go Bhogini!”

( Wake up, Wake up Sisters!)

 Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2005

Source Link : http://www.thedailystar.net/magazine/2005/07/05/reflections.htm

Still in Seclution
My Silence is Your Comfort

Rubaiyat Hossain

Recently, I have been noticing more and more women wearing veils in Dhaka city. Many young, educated, totally confident and modern women wear burqas. The other night I had a dream that I myself was putting one on. Why is there this desire in us women to cover ourselves up? Whereas we are comfortable watching literally half naked women on television, why do we startle to see a woman in jeans? Why do we see women corned inside a CNG or hunched in a hooded rickshaw, while men sit like king–hands on knee, confident posture, hair blowing in the wind? Why do working women very carefully maintain their attires: how it must be loose, how her orna must come down to her belly, each part of her feminine self must be covered, as if it was the source of all evil.

Are women evil?

Are their feminine body parts like breasts and hips unholy?

Why then, must we think that Allah chose human beings to enter this world via those very body parts and be nourished on mother’s milk? Isn’t it time that we called for some more respect to be given to us as women? Isn’t it time for us at least to believe that there is nothing wrong with our bodies, and we shouldn’t have to worry about reducing its visibility at all times? Mustn’t we remember that we were created to enjoy equal rights as the males of our society?

Wrapping up a person in a black burqa is one way of enforcing restrictions on the visibility and individuality of that woman. The social institution of extreme purdah or seclusion denies women personhood with the logic that: if she is given a persona it would automatically carry the aura of her sexuality, which would contaminate the masculine realm of the public, and ultimately question the superiority of their authority. However, purdah is variable from society to society, from family to family. To some, purdah could mean wearing a burqa with a peeping hole, for others, it would be wearing a big orna to completely cover her torso. To people like me, it may mean dressing up in a decent manner. Looked through a feminist lens, the otherwise transparency of purdah as a social institution and its complicated effects on women’s lives become visible.

At the core of purdah are two key concepts a)males and females must be separated for the greater good, and b) female sexuality carries an inherent evil element, which could potentially cause chaos in the masculine public realm, thus it must be silenced. Female sexuality in this context must be understood within the following framework: male sexuality is the normative, female sexuality is the deviated, therefore, the males must control female sexuality for everybody’s benefit. Writers like Hanna Papanek argues that, purdah erases women’s individual identities in public. She further argues that purdah accentuates women as primarily sexual beings whose sexuality must be kept hidden for the greater good of society. The question of honour is also deeply linked with purdah. The deeper a woman lives in purdah, the higher the man’s honour is. It demonstrates the man’s capability to control and harness the woman’s sexuality. Abul A’la Maududi, a strong supporter of purdah in South Asia, expressed the exact same idea in his first piece on purdah in 1939. According to his dualist vision, the mixing of male and female sexualities could end in disaster. Thus, it is not only important to keep women invisible from the public, but it is also important to separate males and females as widely as possible. Lila Abu-Lughod’s interpretation of honour and veiling in the Egyptian Bedouins comes relevant to our current value system regarding female sexuality in Bangladesh, “sexuality is the most potent threat to the patrilineal, patricentred system and to the authority of those who uphold it and women are the most closely identified with sexuality through their reproductive activities. Therefore, to show respect to the social order and the people who represent it, women must deny their sexuality.” Following Maududi’s views and Abu-Lughod’s analysis, we may conclude once again that, the key concept behind the social institution of purdah is: female sexuality is evil, and it must be rendered invisible. Since Maududi wrote his first pro-purdah piece in 1939, the table has turned quite a bit. Purdah among women is not as prevalent in Bangladesh as it used to be in colonial Bengal. We see fewer women covering their bodies up in a dark cloak or submitting into seclusion. But the key question to ask is: have we reached the level of comfortability we desire in order to be visible in the public?

Each and every woman in Dhaka city has been harassed with dirty looks and comments on the street. This harassments carries a strong sexual overtone. It makes travelling and getting things done in Dhaka city a nightmare for females. For example, it is not rare to catch men on the street shamelessly looking at women’s breasts. These men have no clue that women are also human beings, and staring at their sensitive body parts is a direct violation of their human rights. Sexually harassing women comes normal and natural in our country. It is not considered a crime. There are no laws preventing it. Moreover, many NGOs report that, rape victims are verbally raped over again at the police station and in court. We women know that the state authority will not do anything about this particular problem of ours. Now the question is, what do we women want to do about it?

The answer is not simple, and I certainly don’t have one. But I do have some clues. The first one is to revisit Begum Rokeya’s words all over again. What this amazingly brilliant woman wrote almost a hundred years ago is still very relevant to what we must do as women to gain our rights: “Why do you allow yourselves to be shut up? You have neglected the duty you owe to yourselves and you have lost your natural rights by shutting your eyes to your own interests.” By being shut up I don’t mean putting on a burqa, but submitting into the system that may force women to wear one. Many women may wear burqas because they simply feel comfortable that way. But the key question is: is purdah the problem or the social system that allows men to sexually harass women in public without any lawful intervention?

The other day, I was travelling in a car with my family. We were stuck in a traffic jam in front of Hotel Sonargaon, and a huge CNG bus pulled in right in front of us. At the back of the bus were a few schools boys and they immediately started making indecent kissing gestures. I wanted to stick my head out of the window and scream at them. But my parents didn’t think it would be safe. So I sat there feeling totally furious and vulnerable. I muttered a slogan I a had learned at a workshop on sexual harassment as college student: My Silence is Your Comfort! I repeated to my self: My Silence is Your Comfort! My silence to speak up against sexual harassment on the street and my silence in having to reduce the visibility of my female body is the comfort of the patriarchal framework of our time. That night I came home and read Begum Rokeya over again, especially Sultana’s Dream (a feminist utopian novel) and Oborodhbashini.

Begum Rokeya published Oborodhbashini (Secluded Ones) a collection of 47 anecdotes documenting the inhuman purdah practices of both Bangali Muslims and Hindus all over North India after serialising it in the Monthly Mohammadi in 1929. It was the first attack, at least in South Asia, on the social institution of purdah by a Muslim woman. Rokeya argued that being in purdah did not mean being secluded, rather, it meant being decently dressed, to be more precise, in her own words, “veiling is not natural, it is ethical. Animals have no veils…by purdah I mean covering the body well, not staying confined…we shall keep necessary and moderate purdah.” Rokeya worked till her last breath for the betterment of women while remaining in purdah. She was not against purdah, but she was against the unnatural purdah measures that restricted women’s mobility. She was against the patriarchal understanding of female sexuality as the deviated one. In fact, Rokeya’s feminist utopian novel Sultana’s Dream depicts a Lady Land where instead of women, men are shut into the inner quarters–the “mardana”–women moved around freely and worked as scientists, gardeners, teachers, and queens. What Rokeya was trying to say in Sultana’s Dream is that the problems regarding the social institution of purdah could be obliterated if men could be shut out from looking at women, in other words, women would not need purdah if men would become half way decent and stop staring at them relentlessly. Covering our bodies up to completely erase our sexuality is a necessity that rises from men’s complete control over the social ambience to walk around as the normative sex, while we walk hunched backs as the problematic sex. Begum Rokeya inspired women to come out of seclusion. Almost a hundred years down the road, are we out of seclusion yet? The carbon monoxide of women’s seclusion may be somewhat cleared out, but are we out of the transparent veil of the male gaze that imposes restrictions on our mobility as women?

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2005

Source Link : http://www.thedailystar.net/magazine/2005/07/03/pers.htm

 I know I am a Woman

 Rubaiyat Hossain

I know I am a woman.

I know I was born not as a human being, but as a lesser being. A female, a Nari, a womanI always was an extension of a male, a Noro, a man. I am denied my individual identity as a person. Moreover, various religious, social, cultural, economic, and political imperatives push me down into the social category called ‘woman.’ As a woman I am treated very specifically in reference to my biological peculiarities in reference to the male body. The male is the natural, the normal, the rational, the centralI am the unnatural, the abnormal, the emotional, the peripheral, my silenced individuality must compensate for my biological distinctness, “[f]or him she is sexabsolute sexno less.” The only identities I am offered are those of mother, sister, wife, and daughter. What if I refuse them? What if I just want to live for myself? What if I just wish to explore my own brain, speak my own voice, and create my own dreams? What if I just want to be a human being? What if I feel this world was created with all its beauty for me? What if I feel the moon is mine? What if I feel I want to fly high above the clouds on my own two wings? What if? What if? What if? What if? I have been asking ever since I was a little girl. Asking these questions led me to take up Women’s Studies as my academic discipline, and it has opened up a third eye for me.

What I have learnt is that every woman needs their third eye open. Every woman needs to look through a gender specific lens in order to comprehend the otherwise transparent tropes of patriarchy. After all, patriarchy is probably the most ancient system of political domination invented my males. The domestication of women by raping, and impregnating them was the first building block of patriarchy. By raping the first woman, the cave man realized his strength of force and materiality over love and spirituality. Women’s structural vulnerability to be raped and men’s structural capability to rape is at the core of the superior male collective identity. Rape as a biological weapon is the monopoly of men, and it is via this weapon, they keep women under a constant sense of fear. Cultural stigma that is attached to rape victims, especially in a place like Bangladesh further accentuates the women’s primitive fear of the male species. Thus we women, give the authority of our bodies to one single man through marriage. Thereby, one particular man becomes the legal proprietor of one particular female body. It becomes his responsibility to guard that female body from other males. Marriage entitles him to rape her lawfully as many times as he wishes. In a country where most marriages are arranged, and women are raised with little or no information about, and choice to explore their own sexualities, marital rape is no news. It is a well established state authority given to the males of our country.

Women are made to believe by heart that they are weak, vulnerable, stupid, emotional, and irrational. Women themselves believe that their position as subordinates, and sexual slaves to men is a justifiable one. The inequality between two genders has poisoned our understanding of religious, cultural, and social institutions. Our concept of romance is very clearly outlined with a notion of female subjugation. Therefore, it is not easy to come in terms with one’s individual identity as a woman. It is a completely new path to walk on. It is a path that shows no light or gives no guidance. One has to struggle, strain their arms and legs in an attempt to stand up. One has to keep falling. One has to be pounded by contradictory forces. One has to be pulled into different directions. One has to feel like she has been thrown into a limitless sea. One has to bear the weights of her own female body with all its biological peculiarities in relation to the male body. One has to go to work with a nine month old baby in her belly, and perform with peak efficiency as a banker. For a woman to emerge into the public realm, and begin to explore herself as an individual means that she has to wage her battle in a thoroughly male world. She has to become part of a game plan originally designed for and by males. In this world she is harassed all the way through for the uniqueness of her sexuality. She has to render her pain of menstruation and pregnancy transparent in order to continue working just as efficiently as her male counterparts. She must play his game and abide by his rules. How is, then, she to avoid the trope of patriarchy?

The answer is: she can not. However, painful the answer may be, it is still the material reality of our time. Women are alienated from their own selves, and used as sexual and emotional slaves by the omnipresent power structure of patriarchy. It is foolish to assume that men would come forward to demolish this system. And why would they, since they are the ultimate beneficiary of the system? They are made to believe as little boys that they are superior, they are better, they are smarter, they are stronger, they are more capable, and finally they deserve the unconditional service of their mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters. It is women, and only women, who can come forward to break the chains of patriarchy.

Since the beginning of the eighteenth century women have been coming forward through out the entire globe to claim their rights as individuals. Two hundred years down the road, we are still not any where near the goal of gaining our recognition as free individuals. The third wave feminism in the West has taken the route of abolishing the category of gender all together. The focus has shifted towards homosexual and trans-gendered women, rather than heterosexual women existing and functioning within the parameter of patriarchy. The shark jaw of consumerist media has turned the Western mainstream women into pure sexual objects. Six out of ten women I knew in my college dorm in the United States had some sort of an eating disorder. Women, today must starve themselves, or stick their heads into the toilets to puke up their meals to reach a level of thinness advertised in the media. Thanks to globalisation, women in Bangladesh are also contaminated by the seeds of image and eating disorder. But we have more real issues at hand here, such as the alarmingly rising level of violence against women, especially rape, murder, and acid attacks. In a country like ours, we do not have the luxury or the escapist attitude like our Western counterparts to seek peace and protection in homosexual partnerships. On the contrary, we are faced with the difficult challenge of co-existing with a culturally, socially, and religiously enforced value system of patriarchy. We have to exhibit our individuality from within the framework of heterosexual partnership.

The job ahead of us is not an easy one. The first step is to pop open our third eye, and witness the patriarchal transparency imposed on the domination and sexual slavery of women. We have to learn how to love the man who sleeps next to us at night, and still realise deep down that he is actually robbing us of our rights as free individuals. We have to love and respect our fathers, but we have to speak up against him in a loud tone because fathers are, after all, the founding pillars of patriarchy. We have to adore our sons, but never to treat them more specially than our daughters. We have to have feelings for our brothers, but refuse to pour him his glass of water or serve him rice on his plate at the dinner table. As women, the sacred responsibility falls on our shoulder to change the value system, and the gender biased practices within our own families. Demolishing patriarchy would be the ultimate triumph of humanity, since it would establish a peaceful and equitable partnership between men and women, and establish justice in the most important and basic social unitthe family. As women it is up to us to carry on this job with patience not detestation, with a superior level of humanity not with violence, and finally by understanding the insecurities within men that trigger them to claim forceful superiority over women.

We will fall a hundred times, but we will keep standing up thousands of time. The opposite of success is not failure for us, rather it is quitting. We must remember we are free individual human beings, before we are someone’s daughter, sister, mother, and wife. As resilient the women of Bangladesh have been in surviving acid burns, brutal rape, dowry murders, marital rape, domestic violence, sexual harassment at work placea new dawn of equitable co-existence awaits them, given they open their eyes to the inequitable and unjust practices they are made a part of everyday.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2005

Source Link :   http://www.thedailystar.net/magazine/2005/07/01/pers.htm