To Be A Woman

Today is Women’s Day. We’ve come a long way. From celebrating women to repressing women to celebrating women. With all these ‘days’ becoming great marketing opportunities, with offers and discounts and free gifts, all trying to make a woman feel special, what is it really like being a woman in today’s world? A young woman in a modern metropolitan city.

Disclaimer: Views are completely personal. May or may not be generalized to a larger mass.

A Day In The Life Of Me

I leave my house and reach the Metro station. And it starts. The eyes. Even though with years of practise you’ve learnt to ignore most of it, you cannot escape those prying eyes scrutinizing what you’re wearing, how you’re walking, amongst other things. The group of men standing outside the station. Commuters, autowallahs, random men. 30 seconds and you’re inside the station. Almost every male commuters eyes are fixated on some female form. Here and there they turn. And then that pretty girl walks in, with high heels, straightened hair and modern clothes. All eyes on her. But of course, she’s dressing like that, so she brings it on herself, doesn’t she? Sigh. So I move on, feeling sorry for her.

We enter the train. The Women’s Only compartment. Mine is the first station, so not many women climb on. As the stations pass, the compartments gets fuller. More women climb in. And an occasional stray man or two. Or ten. Those who cannot believe their luck to have walked in to such a pleasant sight. The women around look at him and for some reason don’t ask him to go to the next compartment. Someone does. And his bubble bursts. So he walks across and settles towards the end of the compartment. Not to the other. The end of the women’s compartment is again full of men, who prefer standing in the company of women.

I look to that end and notice that the entire crowd of men gathered towards the back of the compartment have their necks craned towards this side. Unflinching looks, staring as women go about their travel lives. Talking on the phone, listening to music, chatting with their friends, standing, sitting. Old men, young men, rich men, poor men. Just staring. And the unfortunate ones who are a few compartments away quickly peek in to see the wonderous sight once they’ve gotten out.

As this woman sitting next to me once told me that her male colleagues were very disappointed with this separation. “The whole fun of travelling in a Metro has gone.” No more squeezing against women, sorry boys!

There are of course the occasional men who even after being told to leave the compartment prefer to show their defiance. No shame.

I remember when the Gurgaon to CP Metro line hadn’t been completed, but it was only from Gurgaon to Qutub Minar, the train used to be practically empty. As I made my way back from office, happy to be the only person in the whole compartment, an unsuspecting man would walk in. And take a seat across me and stare. Stare. I would stare back and they would shamelessly stare back. If I moved to another seat, they would position their necks accordingly. This wasn’t just a one off case. It was a regular feature. Expressionless faces, fixated eyes.

I don’t think any girl can be comfortable with that. It’s unnerving at any time and any age. I’ve even asked what they were looking at quite a few times. To no change. Pretended to speak on the phone complaining about them. No change.

Enough about the Metro.

So I get off the Metro to go to my destination. Outside, scores of autowallahs vying for my attention. Somehow they all only want female passengers. Poor men, they get no attention. So I’m surrounding my 7 men offering me a ride to my destination at ridiculous prices. No, I don’t want to travel by auto. And then they pass a casual comment. As I walk, cyclists make kissing sounds, young boys in big motorcycles sing a line of a cheap song, car drivers coming to the edge of the narrow road. Sometimes it doesn’t matter and sometimes it drives me up the wall.

Have men never seen women? Their mothers, sisters, cousins, aunts?

So I meet my friends. All boys. By that time I feel like punching someone.

Protective Friends

Honestly, I do not like my male friends to be protective of me as a girl. I do not need protection. I’ve written about this earlier and it irks me. Are you crazy to be walking around at 11pm? Don’t go there, it’s not a nice place.

A certain friend of mine (who I’ve fortunately severed ties with lately) took the cake. He would pretend to all so protective, stopping me from walking out on the road alone, doing this and doing that because there are bad guy around. And then when he was with a group of boys and he saw a girl, the disgusting look on his mouthwatering face and the fixated eyes. It was surprising he didn’t get a hard on every time he saw a girl. Or maybe he did. Just the kind of guys girls need to be wary of, and there he was protecting me. Eww. Not surprising he secretly married a girl he knew for a week.

So it’s not that these negative elements of society are just in the form of strangers on the road. Those strangers are also friends of people. Just like this person must have behaved with other girls and sometimes in plain sight of us, to the amusement of the other men in the room.

Delhi vs. Bombay

I know a lot of people must be like, Delhi! It’s not Delhi. It’s men in general. And men in India. In fact the headlines in the paper on 7th March, one day before Women’s Day, was “Indian Men Lead In Sexual Violence“. “Nearly one in four men has committed sexual violence at some point in their lives.” What sick men reside amongst us! Sigh.

It’s not Delhi.

When I was in Bombay, ignorant people would continuously ask me, You’re from Delhi? It’s very unsafe na? Let me share my Bombay experiences.

In Delhi, the abuse towards me has been entirely verbal. Only a stray incidence of someone brushing past me.

In Bombay, it was an everyday affair. Men almost walked with outstretched arms hoping to brush against a woman’s assets. It’s such a filthily crowded place that I’m sure most women, who are in as much of a hurry, don’t even realise men are grabbing, touching them. I’ve been continuously stared at, followed in and out of buses, inappropriately touched, brushed against, verbally abused and such almost on a daily basis.

My case could have been a one off case but I cannot fathom why for 3 years I would have been a lone victim to all this. Maybe I’m more sensitive to noticing such things?

Being A Woman

I’ll make it a point to say that none of this is exaggeration. It is an everyday affair for women in our cities. Some of us are lucky to belong to a group where rape, honour killings, domestic violence are not commonplace. Or sometimes it is.

Ask any girl and they will tell you instances of being in an unpleasant situation. And some even worse.

Then again, I wouldn’t switch my gender for anything in the world. To trade feminine endurance and versatility for abusive horniness. Not a chance! I hate that men think it’s in their nature to be disrespectful. Even that harmless comment to your friend constitutes for whats unacceptable. A woman doesn’t have to incite an opinion, good or bad, when she steps out in to the world.

It’s tiring. For me. At least.

With tempers rising, I bid adieu. Happy Women’s Day, whatever that means!

For more feminist views: But You’re A Girl, The Girl In A Boy’s World

 

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