Sexism and self-education

As a feminist/womanist, you get used to endless questions. Most feminist and womanist bloggers write, read and interact with their minds and fingers ready and primed to filter and/or delete, because of these endless questions. Quite often, seemingly-naive questioners will reveal themselves to be toxic arseholes bit by bit, in a manner that somewhat recalls, now that I think about it, TV-drama serial-killers sending bits of paraphernalia to their victims/potential victims/the police/all of the above. All too often, the person who says 'What's wrong with thinking/believing/saying X?' does not mean ''What's wrong with thinking/believing/saying X?' What they mean is: 'Hey, I think X. What is your problem? Why aren't you treating my opinion with the respect it deserves?!' All too often, these nuances of meaning become gradually more apparent, as I was saying, until they are deleted and/or blocked. Occasionally, you get a person who DOES mean what they're saying, but still turns out to be a toxic arsehole anyway, and even more rarely, you get a person who means it AND genuinely engages with the other point of view.

The way the process typically goes is as follows:

- Commenter pops up on a feminist/womanist blog and asks a question to feminist/womanist blogger/commenter.

- Feminist/womanist blogger/commenter responds.

(Often, a Q may not be clearly addressed to anyone in particular, so several respondents may weigh in).

This usually repeats at least twice, possibly more, and depends on the patience level of respondents and the blog author.


- Once respondents' patience is wearing thin, they will urge the questioner to go educate themselves. This frequently results in a flurry of questions about how to do that. Respondents provide links, which are very often ignored, and questioner continues to ask questions, OR:

- Questioner will simply ignore links and keep on asking - I have seen this so often, I swear that it now raises my blood pressure in Pavlovian fashion upon glimpsing it again.

Once this show of disrespect has been sufficiently extended, the questioner will usually end up being deleted, blocked and/or ignored.


Now there may be some of you out there who, even after reading this description of how it happens all too frequently, are fool enough to ask: But what's so wrong with that? Isn't it flattering for feminists/womanists, to be treated like an expert on a subject?

To which I have to respond by figuratively looking you in the eye, and asking: Have you been in the world much? Watched the news? Do you read blogs, Private Eye, newspapers? Let's take this little thing that you might have heard of - now what was it called - 'climate change.' It's also known as 'global warming' and 'AGW'. If you exist in a state of about-average wakefulness (i.e., you're not given to chronic blackouts or narcolepsy), you'll be aware that a majority of scientists believe that it's happening, that it is down to humans and that we need to do something about it. Now, I don't give a shit what your personal stance on it is (unless you're a hardcore fruitcake of the still-disputing-that-most-scientists-believe-it's-happening variety...). You will have received this basic knowledge through the news. Now tell me, what was the response of most national governments to this knowledge? Did madness break out? Were presidents and prime ministers touring the country and writing to the press, crying that SOMETHING MUST BE DONE?

No. No, they were not. If, as I assume, you are a fairly average person, not massively political, you probably responded in similarly muted fashion. Cue some stuff about recycling and less car journeys and green products. Thus, despite a MASSIVE EXPERT CONSENSUS, the global reaction was mostly something along the lines of:

'What? You - What? Really? Melting? Flooding? Us? Omigod. Shit. Fuck... ahhhh, hell.'

Just goes to show what you think about experts. To use another example: hunger and poverty in Africa. You know it's happening, right? You know that it's still pretty bloody serious in parts of Africa. Does this send you, screaming and militant, to devote your life to building huts and raising money for water filtration and Fairtrade farming? As Michael Kyle says: 'Ah... Nah'. We will always ignore or filter out what someone's saying, even if they're an expert and at times, especially if they're an expert, if we've already made our own minds up.

I really urge you, even if you've blanked out by this point and have little or no will to continue reading, to read this brilliant post by a disabled feminist: 'Go educate yourself (please)'. Hopefully by now, you comprehend how massively disrespectful it is to keep harassing someone after they've told you to find out for yourself. Some feminists and womanists have had it happen so often that they now move to refusing the role of educator instantly. While I can accept that men may feel intimidated by feminism and think it's something they aren't allowed to be part of - surely no-one's actually going to stop you getting feminist texts from the library? Women aren't really going to leap from your screen and strangle you for attempting to read things online either, are they?

I've been tremendously lucky in that I've never really had to deal with this that much. On Pickled Politics, however, there is one commenter who's just pulled a questioner on me after having done it once before. He seems like an OK chap as far as I know, but he asked the question which prompted this post. The thread in question was in response to an article about Dr. Mitu Khurana, who is fighting to protect her five-year-old twin daughters from a murderous husband and in-laws - PLEASE read the article (if not the comments) and sign the petition. The commenter in question, Ravi Naik, wrote in response to me:

[...] in my mind, I am wondering what sort of grandparents want to harm their own flesh and blood? Is this an exception or the rule in Indian society?

To which I just thought... How the bloody hell should I know? Why should I know, given that I don't live in India?

Now if your response to my reaction was along the lines of 'Why don't you know?' and/or 'You should know,' then congratulations. You are a joke, and you have your very own square on the anti-feminist bingo board under "You should..." I would also turn the questions back onto you, and ask: do you know? If so, why not? Is the calculated murder of female children, whether in the womb or after birth, a subject of worth only to a select minority, mostly-female, here and in India? Why is it so? Why does the exercising of women's right to abortion in America draw vocal and violent protests from (usually) godbags, but this issue doesn't? Furthermore: what is it that I'm expected to know? Sex ratios in India? The individual psychology of mothers-in-law like Mitu Khurana's?

Ultimately, I do know to some extent - and how I found out is no secret (as the above link indicates), hell, I even link to an Indian feminist blog and one which campaigns against female foeticide up above ^

The matter of why I should know this is separate, however. There is such an easy answer: why should I know about this topic? Because I am interested in it. The minute you ask a question about something, you are expressing interest. If that wasn't your intention, then either think before you speak or type, or shut the hell up, listen/read, and learn. Even better, do both. It is not the asking of a question in itself which is troublesome. What is troublesome, is the assumption that you can - nay, SHOULD - keep asking, and get answers, because it is your RIGHT. Why, on the Internet of all places, where nothing is sacred and everyone is hidden, would you have more of an entitlement to an answer than in the 'real' world? Would you be more inclined to give your bank details to an e-mail scammer than your wallet to a mugger? No, because the fear of violence and the lack of possibilities for concealment keep you in check in the latter scenario. Interestingly enough, questioners may themselves resort to abuse and threats of violence after being deleted and/or ignored - which I think says a lot about the mentality and masculinity of questioners.

Note I didn't say 'maleness,' I said 'masculinity.' Questioners often reveal their masculinity very quickly through their assumptions of superiority over those they are asking for information - how paradoxical is that? They claim to be seeking help, yet they often ignore that help when it is given. This subsequently suggests that what they really want is attention and to provoke - it's no wonder that we must then be constantly alert for trolling. Scholars of masculinity and male feminist allies have pointed out how contradictory masculinity is, and the behaviour I'm describing is a perfect example of that. What it also brings to mind is the behaviour of a spoilt child, whether at home crying for Mummy until she's ready to tear her hair out, or in the classroom, driving the teacher insane. Which is when I stopped, and realised that I had to write this post.

Sure, there's the more apparent sexism (or racism, or homophobia, or transphobia, or ablism!) that is demonstrated through the assertion of the 'right' of white men (for it is usually they!) to be endlessly showered with attention and appreciation in spaces which are supposed to be kept safe for women, transwomen, non-white people, queers/homosexuals and the disabled, and in areas that have nothing to do with them. The very notion that it's 'OK' to ask a member of any or all of these groups to explain what they believe and what they experience for you without bothering to do even a little of your own research, and not only that, but expect them to do so in a way that doesn't offend you personally, is laden with privilege. If you really believe that that is your 'right' or 'entitlement,' then you are a massive, arrogant, dickwad and you can fuck right off. It's funny how even the most 'libertarian' of white males can develop a very bad reaction to being told that they ought to do some work of their own accord.

Yet for the men among you who have been reading this so far, and are feeling relatively confident that you don't behave in the manner, I've just described, consider this: the repeated posing of questions to feminists/womanists is sexist and disrespectful in itself, because it projects your expectations of femininity onto a bunch of women you don't know and ultimately becomes a subtle way of trying to put women 'back in their place'. If, as I'm assuming, you're relatively liberal/lefty-leaning socially and fairly politicised - how often do you go onto politics blogs and start asking the commenters there (for example) why the Labour party is historically considered 'left-wing' or not, or why the Conservatives are generally considered 'right-wing'? Have you gone out of your way to get people to explain to you in full (for example) why opposing wars is generally seen as a left-wing thing?

Unless you inform yourself on EVERY LITTLE POINT by bothering other commenters, then it is absolutely unacceptable to do that on feminist blogs. So feminism is large and diverse - so fucking what? The leftist movement's hardly homogeneous. The key difference in the two settings, which makes all the difference, is that politics blogs, whether left- or right-leaning, are seen as 'male' territory. Politics has always been overwhelmingly regarded as the domain of the male - which is why even I sound like I'm separating out feminist blogs and politics blogs. Despite being political, feminist blogs don't duplicate the style of most politics blogs and thus are not really regarded as such by the 'blokeosphere'. Hence the cynical gender-aware observer will be unsurprised to see feminist issues being mocked, ignored and trivialised even on supposedly 'liberal' sites. Politics blogs are an exercise in hyper-masculinity, with a frankly pathetic show of macho piss and pyrotechnics in the comments. Anyone who dares to show ignorance of the basic context of a particular situation will usually be ignored, and sometimes also mocked - and men have the nerve to claim that feminist/womanist bloggers treat them harshly! Men venturing onto feminist/womanist blogs, however, are well aware that most of the commenters are women. Women are feminine, they don't DO that hyper-macho rude thing! Women are mothers and nurses and carers and primary school teachers, don't you know?! They're there to pat you and tell you you're a big boy and make everything better. Answering your questions and doing your work for you - that's their JOB.

And so, with this embedded deep in their psyche through mere socialisation, men set out on feminist blogs to behave in a way they wouldn't dare demonstrate in front of other men. Even the most well-meaning of my male readers may have made this mistake already, because of socialisation. If you find yourself thinking or even hoping that feminists/womanists are going to be patient with you and entertain your dumb ass when you know that commenters on political blogs wouldn't - well, then, you deserve all the flaming, deleting and banning you get. So you cast women in supporting roles in your head because you're a heterosexual male - so what? Our spaces are for us, not you. That name on the screen is not your mother, your sister or primary school teacher. She wouldn't do it for you, and you shouldn't even be expecting her to. Take yourself over to here to get some feminism 101, and here for some womanism 101, use Google and libraries. As for asking questions, it's not verboten, but if you really want to be a feminist/womanist ally and demonstrate basic respect for women, you can't really go wrong with the following formula:

a) STFU, pay attention and read/listen. More than likely, you will get the answer to what you were wondering about if you just read what feminist and womanist bloggers are saying on a regular basis. Once you find a blogger whose style you like, check out their blogroll. Most have reading lists, or you could always ask them or their commenters for suggestions politely - that's perfectly fine. If you know somebody in your personal life who is a feminist or womanist and who wouldn't mind dealing with your Qs, you can approach them, but remember that ultimately, if you're interested, it's your job to find things out for yourself.
b) Stop and think. If you're thinking of asking a question, is it really necessary, or will a bit of patience and/or research or reflection do the job for you?
c) If you must ask a question, do so as politely and respectfully as possible. You may still get flamed, which you'll just have to live with. We feminists and womanists come under constant attack and have absolutely no obligation or relation to you. You have to earn our attention and trust.

Ultimately, if a man can't do that much - and it really isn't that much - then he is a sexist twat. THIS is what challenging privilege is all about - realising that the world does NOT revolve around you, confronting that fact head-on with people who have been harmed by the privilege that attaches to your body and accepting that their reality is equally valid with humility and respect. It's an ongoing process of course, but really, if you can't be bothered to make the effort to act like a full human, there's no reason why anyone should be bothered to treat you like one.

Identity, Culture and All Dat 'Ish

As any fule kno, the um, 'situation' with the Gaza Strip and Israel has provoked a lot of what I can only term sheer utter fucking lunacy everywhere. Pop along to Pickled Politics and scroll down a little to marvel at the sheer volume of articles on it; or if you're a rubbernecking connoisseur, wade into the brain-rotting depths of personal insults and virulent misunderstandings and misinterpretations that tend to make up the comment threads of such articles. Sheesh. I have heard several times how mental people go over I/P, but to see it in action is really something else. Some brave commenters, such as one douglas clark, ventured to say that British Jews should not be forced to shoulder the responsibility of Israel's actions and expected to 'make everything right' from a tiny island far away (I paraphrase). Now, that seems like common sense, don' it?

It got me thinking again on how so much of the danger that comes from having a religious identity (as far as I'm concerned) is in that symbolism. I'm far too timid to say anything like that the world should be rid of religion; I like to throw up my hands on these matters and say, I don't know, and if pressed, I could give you an answer, but not a simple one. I can't ever see myself becoming famous because I don't on the whole do snappy soundbites or 'big ideas' - but back to religious symbolism. It scares me because it allows, nay in many cases, demands the establishment of a connection of oneself with a much larger body of people. The way I see it, many people 'get into' religion for the community and stay for the God (forgive me if that sounds very cynical, and just to elaborate, I'm talking here about the things that keep people born within religion within it, but especially of those who leave and 'come back' or those who enter for the first time...).

Now that is all very edifying and so forth, but it becomes hugely problematic when you start to think about what this means. What it means, as I see it, is a declaration by the individual of surrender to a collective, over certain things and at certain times. In short, it's like hazing or any sort of unpleasant club membership, and even if you were BORN with those privileges, you never know when the tide of mass opinion might turn against you. Hence, though more shored-up than the new convert, you're still forever at risk of being undermined by the very fact of your 'membership', paradoxical as it sounds.

(Might I just say how painfully paradoxical this strikes me as? A significant part of the promise of religion to many is as an access of ready-made identity, culture, history, yadda yadda yadda... and instead it gets to the stage where you're always having to prove yourself. Well, I guess as the popular maxim goes, in life, nothing (but nothing) is free!).

Now, it must be averred that this risk of being undermined is not always greatly present. It tends to emerge handily with the arrival of an Other. I suppose the process works something like this: your 'identity' and 'culture' are threatened, hence you are threatened; by aggressively reasserting these, you refuse the attempt of the Other to undermine you completely. However, as we have already established, this shadowy Other (which may not be as much of a threat as imagined to be, who knows?) will then become projected unconsciously upon your fellow-believers for whom you must perform the rituals of belief. Isn't it ungracious? Isn't it undignified, how the best and brightest of us find ourselves bending the knee before those we know, know, in our hearts and minds to be stupid, ugly, and generally inferior... and yet whom the deranged reach of (oft-bigoted) zeal places on the podium, above us?

I commented disparagingly on a thread about a Sikh 'holocaust' museum, saying that I don't think the word should be bandied about quite so readily. Aye right, I fuckin' don't - the word means 'burnt sacrifice' and was applied to the full horror of the Nazi plan (need I really mention the gas chambers here...?) in light of the specificity of how this plan was implemented. I am a writer; I have the most enormous respect for words and it really annoys me when people don't use them properly, or use them out of context. Fuck you if you think that's precious - you wouldn't say the same of someone like Ben Goldacre seeking to debunk bad science now, would you? Miscommunication, apart from when it's deliberate, has a lot to do with making our lives harder than they ought to be, and the misuse of language is one of those things. Call the suffering of other minority communities 'genocide', call it 'mass murder' - but given how saturated this word has become with meaning - and that too after a prolonged effort by History not to let us forget such an awful happening - don't go bandying it about. Especially when the events in question are lacking in the same scale, type of mass-murder and specificity of evil intent.

(Rumbold helpfully intervened to explain what I was saying before I even could myself, so I have left no further comment 'pon that thread. Please head over to Charlie Brooker to see, fully and perfectly expressed, how I ultimately feel about Internet 'debates'. Ta for that Rumbold, true to form you put it rather clearer and more polite than I probably would've managed... comment threads often fill me with impotent rage, and then I feel dirty, as if I've just rubbed myself all over with The Daily Mail, and vow to do something REAL when my degree is over).

To return to the point - I can't help thinking that such things happening - such ridiculous abuses of language and over-aggressiveness - come, because with things like I/P, people's 'imagined' ancestry begins to come to the fore. Hello, trouble. The collective, baying for blood, seeks its recompense of the individual - now is the time to prove yourself, Sonny Jim! Now show your ideological colours! Lo, and so it comes to pass that people in Great Britain set about each other from the screens of their computers over something which is happening far, far away and to which they are not (short of having relatives in Gaza or Israel) directly connected. I mean, ffs, the link between Jews and Israel is imagined and symbolic, just as the link between Muslims and Muslims in Gaza is imagined and symbolic. Why do you suddenly feel the need to multiply yourself into a fucking representative of your whole religion? Because your people are being attacked here - your people, that's who! Jayzus.

I think here of all the times in the past that I have been forced to say things that I don't believe and agree with statements I find abominable in order to avoid attracting my family's negative attentions. I did it up to a certain age, and then I realised that I didn't have to any more. I could use the power of silence against them. They could infer what they wanted from it; I would not agree, and having got in serious grief on past occasions, I would not condemn either. If this was a coward's way out, I didn't care. My objective was to protect myself and to emerge intact.

My mother has made the observation in the past - very accurate, I feel - that it is only wealthy, middle-class people who have the time to dwell on these things. While this is not entirely true (I'm sure there have been some suicide bombers who weren't fairly financially stable too - or does that only fuel my mum's theory, in implying that poverty only added to ideological frenzy?), there is a LOT of truth to it. While discussing things is all very well and good, I often feel that if you are going to spit blood so, then why the heck don't you get off your arse and do something to help directly? Complain to the BBC, give money to the DEC, hell, fly out there and do something. Just spare me the bitching, and the soapbox-ing, which begin frankly to dive towards unsettling levels of moralisation and dogma, for me. A minority of disenfranchised people will, inevitably, react badly to the injustices that have befallen them - but since when was stooping to that level acceptable? What of all the other people who just want to fucking get by? Like me, they're more concerned with survival rather than ideology. Life is hard enough 'secular' as it is.

Religious fraternity and perspective is not enough when terrible things like this happen. People must remember that we are all ultimately human and that ultimately all the vitriol begets no solutions and no progress. Of course, there are always those who profit from such quarrels, but if people learn to practise a bit more forgiveness and a bit more forgetting, hopefully the planet can proceed on to the future.

Just to bore you senseless a little further, all this really churned about in my brain like clothes in the washing machine when my mum read to me a hilarious, and I fully believe, fictional account of a Sikh wedding (in two parts) from a Punjabi newspaper. Apparently in the duration of this story, some 'sensible observer' remarked how there were far too many women at weddings these days; if you went to the marriage palaces, all you would see was women, and that in the old days, women weren't even meant to be part of the baraat (the wedding procession, otherwise understood as the arrival of the groom and his party at the marriage venue). I immediately stiffened, my brain standing to attention like a guitar-string being pulled taut. My mater had not noticed this; nor did she notice the sudden, emergent incongruity of this remark peeking its ugly, goblin little head from the narrative.

As I glanced idly at the sheet she was holding out before her, a dim sort of epiphany set in. I tilted my head, casually covering the sheet with my gaze - yup. I rolled back my memory to previous glimpses of this paper (I think it must have been the Punjabi section of The Sikh times) - yup. The overwhelming majority of the participants in this production were male, bearded, turbanned and for the most part, pretty old (late 30s onwards). There were women (or there was one I knew of definitely, anyway) in the English part of the paper, but the only columnist I could think of, Rupi Gohlar, was consigned unfussily to a slim, 6cm-wide column somewhere near the entertainment section, which, if I was not looking for it, I would have likely failed to notice (first couple of times, I did miss it).

(To any Private Eye Readers, I appeal to you to recall the E.J. Thribb column. Do you see it now, in your mind? Yes, that's very much what her column resembles, in its slender insignificance. I am struggling now to recall if there are actually any female stalwarts besides Rupi).

I continued to take in what was being read to me, almost laughing at the right moments, but inside I vibrated with epiphany spreading, like the opening of a curtain admits more sunshine. Had I not, upon viewing Channel Punjab, only ever viewed the blurry outlines of women stereotypically 'dancing in the fields' (or had I imagined that too?) and consigned to women-only programmes such as Trinjhan (as far as I know it, a women's talkshow where they had writers and so forth on)? Other than that, women abounded only in the horribly cheap Star-Plus knock-off soaps, where a stereotypical mother-in-law bitch-from-hell would try to undo her stereotypically butter-wouldn't-melt daughter-in-law. Things might be complicated by the arrival of, or transformation of the latter into, a stereotypically gold-digging Westernised 'un-woman'.

I cast about in desperation, but the awareness was glaring me in the face. This was simply not me! None of these were me, and a slow, snakelike rage bubbled luxuriously in my veins. To think that all my life I had been told - had it insisted upon to me - that this was the right and the true, the tradition in which I belonged! I had grown up thinking that Punjabi culture and Sikh culture were one and the same. As I delved into Sikh history, I became much more conscious of the guiding principles of that religion, and as I began to find out more about Punjabi culture - through talking to people other than my parents - cracks began to appear. I discovered that Punjabis had a reputation for being big drinkers and loving fried chicken (that'd explain our local high street then, I tell you...) and, above all else, I began to notice the almost obsessive and deranged sense of male privilege that underscored Punjabi society. I suspect this went something like this: Punjabi men, being among the tallest, strongest and fairest-skinned in India (remember how colour-conscious India is!) were not only superior to women as it is taken for granted that men always are in Indian culture, but also superior to other Indian men! Hence they had extra entitlement!

The fact that the Punjab abounded with rich landowners whose sense of self-worth was only further pumped by laying claim to the glories of Sikh military history won't have helped. And so it came to pass that I watched Long Da Lishkara (a cult Punjabi film made the year before I was born) with my family, I think around the age of 11 or 12. I had not understood the obsession, in some films, with showing women jumping into wells. My young brain established that this must be for them to kill themselves - but why were they killing themselves? The screen soon brought me the answer.

A turbanned, well-dressed man - a man with a neat beard and moustache, and a fair complexion, almost like my own father - was holding a tumbler of whisky. I knew not the name of it, but by the shape and design of the glass, and by the colour of the liquid it housed, could discern what it was. I was horrified. Here was, to all intents and purposes, a Sikh man taking alcohol. Did he not realise it was forbidden? I was to be more horrified still, however, as he advanced upon the servant tidying the room. He seemed delighted by her; she was terrified. He continued to advance on her, I think breaking the glass, if I remember correctly to further frighten her, with his wrath. He managed to trap her on the bed somehow, her horrified shrieks and pleas for mercy only irritating him. Though the next part was obviously absent and left unelaborated upon, my precocious mind made sense of it. He had raped her, and she killed herself for having borne an illegitimate daughter.

My brain struggled. So the stereotypes were true, then? Punjabis were capable not only of drink, but of roundly disregarding the respect for women and acknowledgement of their equal status that lay at the heart of Sikhi? My world was painfully jolted. A man attired, as I said, not unlike my father, had committed a grievous crime against a woman who was, both socially and physically (I was sensitive to the former fact too!) as his female servant (and an Indian woman, thus hardly practised in self-defence) at his, the rich male landowner's, mercy. He had refused her his mercy. He had used her, and then left her to dispose of the evidence of his crime by disposing of herself altogether. Meanwhile, his wife, who had found out about it, did not leave, or punish him. Nor did she adopt the poor little girl. If anything, she began to get angry and worried as, now adults, her son fell in love with she who was technically his half-sister (eww!).

As I looked at my mum reading to me, all this came back to me. My mind whirred with the cascading visions of tiny, rectangular 'mugshots' of old, bearded, turbanned, male faces. I looked upon the writer of this 'humorous' article. His fat, round face was just about visible in black-and-white. I wanted to spit on it. More than anything, the urge to slap my mother fizzed dangerously in my arms. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?' I wanted to cry. 'How dare you try and sacrifice me to these people who have never had a period, never worried about leaving their family, never feared their wedding night with awful dread? OF COURSE marriages are full of women now; we all know the awful suffering that many Indian marriages entail and women turn up in sympathy and commiseration! They too remember how it felt to pin your scant hopes to this one day of grandeur, wishing for its flashy charm to rub itself off on the union forever sealed afterwards!'

However, it wasn't really that strong - gone are the days when I came anywhere near doing that. This was the merest flicker, and it gave way, as always to sadness. My mother is a compromised woman, lost in the values of the time she grew up in. She still moves within the fug of '50s India, and all I can do is cast it off. It is not me, it is not my culture, and I feel elated that at last I can express myself with a concrete example. So you say that these white club-going 'goris' aren't me? Well, those old, sanctimonious bearded twats aren't either! Nor is that overweight, high-blood-pressure-suffering housewife, who dares not even suggest things to her husband any longer for fear of provoking dispute! I'm not the virtuous bahu! I'm not a gold-digger! I don't want my children, my sisters or any of my immediate female relatives to suffer, and that is why I keep trying to take them all under my wing! I may not know my American cousin too well yet, or the daughter of my mum's 'brother' (I think he's actually her cousin?!) whom everyone discusses in low, disapproving tones for having married an older, white man. I may be estranged from my eldest female cousin, Rani - but I'll fight for them, I'll fight for them all in any way I can, just like I did for my eldest sister pre-wedding, when her husband started shouting at her over her wanting speeches. I got in trouble, but I was proud - because that, that is who I am, and for a brief, shining minute, I was no longer leading a double life. That is who I am, my 'identity', my 'culture'; that is me.

Marriage: I Ain't Sold

This post was inspired by Nesrine Malik, Desi Italiana and Sonia... thanks, guys.

Well. I must begin this post by congratulating myself on avoiding eating more than 1-an'-a-bit squares of utterly tasty Sainsbury's Belgian dark chocolate, especially after having eaten a sin-filled pack of Walkers' Max Paprika earlier. I am a feminist and ergo not crazy about looking overly-youthful and wisplike all the time (the former would really be cause for concern, as I am still quite young!), but if you do not have the metabolism of a greyhound and are likely to get grumpy after eating too much 'crap,' you have to watch it.

This post is intended to be about marriage, especially its place within Indian culture. I have learnt a fair bit about this recently, and I feel that it's time I wrested my blog from the caprices of creativity and pushed it back towards the polemic. Unfortunately, because tiredness and stress have somewhat 'worn the wick' recently, I may descend into what is essentially a series of no more than randomly-caught observations.

I used to think that I could escape the clutches of the Indian society that surrounded me by choosing who I got married to. There was a rather great irony in this, because I would say that feminism/egalitarianism is more important to me than keeping my parents happy and upholding a certain idea of Indian 'culture'. Ever since I was little, I have burned at the notion that females should be considered inferior to males in any way, especially in this country. Even the whole 'men are naturally stronger' argument never cut much ice with me. I mean, bitch please – are all men the same? No. Are all women the same? No. For example, a dedicated female javelin or discus thrower is probably going to be of greater strength than an Asian rudeboi of the same age, unless, like my brother currently is, he's so obsessed with getting 'hench' that he's significantly bulked-up.

Aaaaaanyway… I used to believe that one could have the best of both worlds. I could placate my parents in the merest sense by marrying someone brown and to all intents and purposes, Sikh. Even if he was secretly unsure (like me), or a naastik (atheist), it would be OK because, like a well-placed visual illusion, everybody would see what they wanted to see.

The problem with my little picture is that it was missing someone fundamentally important: me. I was thinking about entering into an arrangement that would be convenient for the other person and appease his family and mine. I have always taken pride in being the firebrand of the family, but I didn't see the obvious until it was pointed out to me repeatedly by a very dear friend: I'm not ready to get married and I never will be.

Now, I can understand the line of thought that goes 'oh, y'know – it'll just be a stupid wedding and then you have the rest of your life.' I can understand because that's what I thought up until a few weeks ago. What bullshit, yaar! Whether you're a girl or a boy, if you're Indian, shaadi (marriage) is the whole point of your life. All that differs is the point at which this is impressed, and then eventually, imposed upon you. If you're a girl, chances are you'll be conditioned from childhood (whether you realise/enjoy it or not) to be a wife and then eventually in some ways, a mother. Whereas with boys, it varies - many of them are left free to do as they like until a certain age when the kitchen sink and all is suddenly dropped on their head.

This must be said, because the current double standards that are deeply ingrained within Indian society (more so in some classes/groups than others) are bad for EVERYONE. Seeing and admitting this is a shot of common sense that is desperately needed. Parents like mine – who are actually almost liberal in some ways, how else would I have got the way I am?! – encourage and support their daughters in going to university, only to gently remind them that marriage is ultimately going to be more important. Even if this reminder does not come verbally, it comes in the fact that more of your life will be spent in gearing you towards marriage than will be spent in encouraging you to get a job you want to, or in pursuing a degree you want to do.

I find that even in education, marriage just won't leave people alone. Women who do 'male' degrees (medicine, law, dentistry, finance etc.) or watered-down 'male'/acceptably-feminine degrees (biomedical sciences, pharmacy, teaching…) are more worthwhile investments than those in the arts. The same applies for men, more or less. However, the reason I find this more appalling with regards to women is because it shows how little things have really changed. Now, people don't just want a well-indentured servant, they want one who can pay her way too. Funny how the huge emotional sacrifices made by the bride (leaving her family and having to externalise them while ingratiating herself with a set of near-strangers) doesn't apply much in this regard. I do appreciate that men who 'deviate' educationally also have it hard, but the overall level of suffering is still notably lower for them. (It often seems to me that if you're a guy who does 'deviate' and it doesn't work out for you, your senior male relatives will often rally round and bail you out somehow, while if you're a girl, your senior female relatives will tell you you're reaping what you've sown, but it could just be the cynicism getting the better of me...).

Encouraging the men-folk to do whatever before suddenly dropping the nuptial bomb is disastrous as well. Shrieking harridan mothers-in-law and scheming bahus (daughters-in-law) have come to stereotypically define the power-struggles in Indian marriages, because there are some things that people just don't want to say. Like, if you let your son marry a woman and then make her life hell because he has someone already (or because he swings the other way…), you are not 'saving face.' You are NOT good parents. It will reflect back on you when the aggrieved party either fights back or leaves, when your son gets together properly with the 'somebody else' or when something bad happens to the wife.

I know that tradition is hard to let go of for many Indians, especially my parents' generation (those who are in their fifties and sixties now), but puh-lease. If you've come to a foreign country, you have to accept the fact that your children have the right to choose to follow 'other' influences – and why wouldn't they? There is so much more freedom available to them in many ways. Some will eventually turn their back on that, but many don't want to. Your tricking them into losing the adult years of their lives in a tacit concession to your ideals – shaadi – only shows you up as a load of spoilt children.

That isn't to say that marriage always inevitably fails. I take a very dim view of it, because I have seen how often people struggle to balance the sacrifice, the delusion and the harsh, harsh reality. I simply think that it needs to be said that the failure of marriage is NOT down to Western influences, emotional immaturity or anything that easily scapegoatable. I think deep down, we know that it's really down to the arrangement of power in the Indian family structure (if you're old, you're wise. If you're young, shut up), and the deeply unequal and voracious nature of marriage. Stop idealising the parivaar (family) and the shaadi! Most of the time, in a move harking back to the Middle flippin' Ages, marriage is about the advancement of two families. The Indian ethos par excellence, distilled into the symbolic form of the married couple: communities before individuals. It often becomes almost a political contract, an act enacted for the purposes of what-bloody-else? NETWORKING. 'Look at the relatives I have acquired.I have moved up in the world!' Very bloody ironic for Sikhs, since Sikhi is meant to be without caste, whereas many Punjabis are obsessed with going up a class (why?! why does having x number of doctor/lawyer relatives make you more of a person?!).

To finish, my mother often castigated us for not trying hard enough/failing to learn how to make adequately round chappatis. She told us we needed to learn it for our own sake, because 'otherwise, what will people say? What would your suss (mother-in-law) say? People will say that I didn't teach your properly' (i.e. that she had failed in her duty as a mother).

Yeah, because telling your daughter that she should learn something to your standards to please some far-off woman – which at the end turns out to be you, surprise surprise! – isn't selfish in the least. As Private Eye would say: trebles all round!