The power of an angry woman's dissent

Lakshmi spent her entire life in the Naganakulam village of Madurai. At the age of 12, she was ‘given away’ for marriage to a man decade older than her and had her first child two years later. She went on to have ten children until the man finally figured that it was enough. Lakshmi, like any Indian woman, did not have a say in the proceedings, she was merely executing orders.

When it was time for Lakshmi’s first daughter, Sita to be married off, her father made no mistake in finding a man ten years older than her - Lakshmi became a grandmother to eight children, five of them girls. During Sita’s ninth pregnancy, there were complications that put both the mother’s and child’s life at risk. Though the doctor had advised that they use contraception and consider not having children anymore, Sita’s husband wasn’t exactly the one to opt for safe sex. She and the child died during the delivery because abortion was an obvious taboo, and a practice too urban for the family. Also, another male child was in future expectations.

The third generation came to be of marriageable age, but Vidya, one of Lakshmi’s many granddaughters had divergent views on life and a visceral fear about the institution of marriage. Needless to say, though, that she was married off too, but things were not as bleak. Vidya managed to get herself a rudimentary level of education, she worked as a domestic worker in the town and was keen on her financial independence. Her fights with her husband; condoned by her parents and parents-in-law, were a normal occurrence.

It was one of those dreadful nights when her husband abused her for money, and when she wouldn’t give him any, he raped her. She recalled the television commercial of 'ipill' she watched in her employer’s house and decided to put an end to her growing family size of three children, two of which she did not consent to. She went to every pharmaceutical shop in the entire town looking for the emergency contraceptive, but they refused to sell it. When her family got the wind of her doings, they shot down her intention to abort, locked her up until she delivered the child, and later sent her back to her rapist.

Bound by the rules laid down by patriarchy, she lost autonomy to the one thing she could truly call hers: her own body. So did all the women of Lakshmi’s family and all the women of that village.

The story of Laksmi and her children is just the tip of an iceberg. The Khap system which should punish rapists, resort to victim blaming. And if any woman dared to exercise sexual freedom by taking on lovers within or without the bounds of marriage, would be denied contraception, slut-shamed, and be cast away as a witch to live a life of eternal pain and trauma.

Can you relate to this?

The year is 2017. If I told you that I conjured up the story of Lakshmi and her lineage out of thin air, would you think, “yes, the incidents are too fiction-like to be true”? Or would you implore if this is just too real and too endemic to be fictional? Is the plight of these women only too relatable, global and very unsurprising? And quite embarrassingly, don’t we know many harrowing stories, far worse than the likes of Lakshmi, Sita and Vidya, within the supposed modernity of a city dweller’s life too?

Ideally, contraception is a man's business as well! A condom is a cheap, reliable and accessible product, with practically no side-effects, and provides protection against sexually transmitted diseases. Likewise, vasectomy is much simpler and with fewer complications for men. But there is strong resistance among men to use either, resulting in women having to use precarious, invasive and often painful methods for birth control. My fight is for the rights of women who are denied access to contraception and in no way implying that it is a woman's responsibility alone.

My treasure hunt seeking contraceptives.

My situation was no better than Vidya, or any other woman in the entire state of Tamil Nadu. There has been a ban on the sale of these drugs due to the protests of patriarchal fringe groups against emergency contraceptives, though their objections were transient and “morally provoked”, the ban remained. In regressive cultures such as mine, where the sanctity of motherhood is glorified and infertility is a curse, the use of contraception is vastly looked down upon. My mother; and most women belonging to her generation who did not have any clue about their reproductive rights, subjected themselves to intercourse that they neither consented to nor could seek pleasure in. A godawful feeling often consumes me when I wonder about my place in this world brought in by two adults - did they even want me in the first place?

In a country like India where all evils coincide and ambush conjointly, it is very difficult to isolate one and address it. An oversized family in the bottom of the pyramid would continue to tread on the line of poverty, add to the population explosion and be deprived of education which could otherwise help them rid themselves of poverty, and eventually make informed decisions about reproductive choices, legal rights etc. This is the vicious cycle that haunts women in every third world country alongside other patriarchal issues, outside the realm of sex and reproduction.

It bothered me, it should bother everyone.

We often underestimate the power an individual voice has - I have too before I started questioning things that oppress me, and my sisters all over the world. I have had people tell me that my anger was futile, that just by being angry, I simply cannot achieve anything. How wrong were they, and how far my anger has brought me today, is a tale that I will tell myself often.

I have run a few protests in my brief time of brazen activism, and I saw to it that they resulted in - even if they are minimal - tangible change in the real world. Was anger my first impetus to take on patriarchy with my own bare hands? Undoubtedly, yes! Was I “emotionally overwhelmed” and “out of control” in my attempt to voice out? Well, some men’s rights activists definitely did tell me that, but we know better than their cranky tantrums, don’t we?

My anger lifted the ban on emergency contraceptives.

It gives me immense pride to be the one to restart the dialogue and bust the myths that deny basic human rights to women. Only this time, it did not faze out as just dialogues but I, with the help of an online petition that raised close to 3000 signatures, actually averted the irrational and unofficial ban on the sale of emergency contraceptive pills (ECPs). After two months of sending relentless emails and telephonic exchanges, thanks to the petition, the Drug Control Director sent us a response that made me extremely happy. Now, a proposal has been submitted to Drug Consultative Committee, to include the Levonorgestrol 0.75/1.5mg Tablets in S.No. 15 of Schedule K of the Drugs and Cosmetics Rules 1945- meaning, these ECPs can now be sold as over-the-counter drugs without a prescription.

There’s more, this proposal is now going to be considered not just in Tamil Nadu but across India. The Drugs Technical Advisory Committee (DTAC) intends to increase availability and accessibility of the medicine in remote areas and therefore, hope to keep ECPs “affordable”. A team of members would be meeting the end of this month to discuss and make things formal.

Tell me again, how one angry woman cannot change the tide, topple patriarchy and kick it out of the side door!

One can only speculate over the enormity of this news considering how many women go through unnecessary, painful (and often unaffordable) abortions, keep getting pregnant against their will, or worse, are forced to keep a child born out of rape. This step, after ten years of unofficial ban, is therefore very significant. It is heartening to observe that the DTAC understands the need for a ‘moral free’ availability of ECPs, and the impact this will have on the lives of women all over India. This is of particular relevance in a country where ideological morality holds high grounds, often sidestepping the autonomy women ought to have with their bodies.

In conclusion…

It takes a special kind of self-effacing monstrosity, a fragile dewdrop of an ego to be irked by the slightest freedom of women. An irrational fear runs down their spine to make such conniving decisions - and the aftermath of which ruin not one but generations of families.

Never underestimate the power of what a single act of dissent can do to the world. The revolt of feminism is not only a struggle for our rights but also a force for redefining normalcy in society. It is unfortunate that our persecution binds us together, but our solidarity would help us get rid of it entirely. Do not let anyone discount your valuable anger, turn around and question why aren’t they angry too.

The lives of Lakshmi and Vidya disturb our souls making us cuss at the very notion of “having a bright side” but if it makes it any relieving, the story was indeed made up - or was it?