Part 2 of my attempt to sum up a few aspects of India I feel like talking about! Sexual Harassment
I don't know the best way to talk about this, so I'm just going to write a few stories. I've never had any serious problem with sexual harassment in India. I haven't been followed, or felt in danger. However I have plenty of times felt like the line of rudeness and creepiness has been crossed and behavior has entered into a violation of my private space. As a Westerner in Indian society, my private space extends a bit further than those around me, but regardless, any sexual harassment, or "eve-teasing" of this sort crosses lines in Indian society as well.
I'm white. I know that may be a bit more rare in India, but does that mean it is acceptable behavior for high-school/college aged young men traveling with their parents in the seats in front of me on a plane from Cochin to Delhi are entitled to hold up their iPhones and (discreetly? not really) take pictures of me? I don't think so. I'm a bit more understanding of poorer Indians who don't have a direct connection with Western culture being fascinated by brown hair, but from Indians wearing American Eagle? less so.
(click "read more" for complete blog post)
Traveling in enclosed spaces seems to present this problem. If its not pictures, its "looking to the back of the bus" (a.k.a. the seat behind him at me). I don't mean for ten minutes. I mean every five minutes for four hours. In a kurta, salwar, and oily hair, am I really so fascinating? Plus, I make the point to meet his gaze and give him a dirty look half the time, which seems to have no effect whatsoever on this behavior. So when he turns his head for another "look back" and I move my face out of his line of vision, I'm the one changing my behavior. And I feel crappy for doing that. I'll just wear a ski mask then, because obviously the whitness of my acne-speckled face is too magical to resist and therefore I will take the blame and I will alter my behavior.
On the same bus ride, I'm sitting in front, and cars in front can see me through the windshield. The jeep passengers grin widely, and change their seat to get a better look at me. They wave and I scowl.
And one more traveling story. On a train from West Bengal to Assam. The entire car is open, with berths lower and upper so that they are in sets of four. I am on a lower berth, and one other young man is one the lower berth across from me. He is college or high school aged, quiet, shy, and helpful later when I have to get off at an unannounced station. There is also a high school soccer team. They run around the train for about two hours before starting to slowly occupy the berths above and across from me, six or eight of them, with others peering around the corner and hiding again when I look up. Its like I'm surrounded by monkeys, only monkeys asking my name, making kissy noises, and if I have a sister.
In old Delhi, on the back of a rickshaw, Margaux and I are having a great time, smiling broadly, when I motorcycle with three young men come within six inches of us before pulling back. We laugh it off, but the boys keep coming back. Again, and again, and again. We try to ignore them, but finally its actually scaring us, and I yell at them to go away. They continue to follow the rickshaw for another ten minutes, yelling and howling all the way. An older man on a moped behind us tries to reassure us they are just teasing. We know.
In Dharamsala, with my two friends. One gets up to ask for the check, and comes back to the table, confessing that the waiter accidently elbowed her in the boob. The check comes, and when he leaves the table, my other companion says, "I don't think it was an accident," as his knuckles just slid across her breast as well. We're good sports and find this hysterical, though when he comes over keep our arms strait out in front of us to grab the bill with as much distance as possible. The food was great, we would have gone back there if we weren't going to get groped.
In addition to other stories I can't think of at the moment, the most common event is an absurd amount of staring. Its not the staring you get in the US, which is 90% of the time flattering and makes you feel good about yourself. This is a kind of watching, which does not stop even if you call them out on it. If it isn't leering, picturing you with your clothes off, its the sentiment that they have a right to keep their eyes on me, that my very presence is reason enough to give them the authority to stare at me. Staring is rude in Indian society. But that doesn't seem to matter. It doesn't matter if I'm in skinny jeans and a tank top or if I'm in a salwar and kurta, I get the same amount of stares, I get the same kind of stares.
I've dealt with all of this rather lightly while I'm here. I've had to. If I make a big deal out of it then I would hate to ever go out in public. And I've had people I know make light of it too, laugh it off, say it isn't a big deal. But despite my treating it as not a big deal, it is. These stories aren't cute, I've felt affronted, I've felt insecure. Never concerned for my safety, but in some way violated. It is a problem in Indian society. In a culture with the highest rate of female infanticide. I'm supposedly at a radically feminist institution here, but I've been told directly and indirectly countless times by students and faculty that I can't do something because I will get raped. That is the abiding assumption and the blame is on me.
I don't know the best way to talk about this, so I'm just going to write a few stories. I've never had any serious problem with sexual harassment in India. I haven't been followed, or felt in danger. However I have plenty of times felt like the line of rudeness and creepiness has been crossed and behavior has entered into a violation of my private space. As a Westerner in Indian society, my private space extends a bit further than those around me, but regardless, any sexual harassment, or "eve-teasing" of this sort crosses lines in Indian society as well.
I'm white. I know that may be a bit more rare in India, but does that mean it is acceptable behavior for high-school/college aged young men traveling with their parents in the seats in front of me on a plane from Cochin to Delhi are entitled to hold up their iPhones and (discreetly? not really) take pictures of me? I don't think so. I'm a bit more understanding of poorer Indians who don't have a direct connection with Western culture being fascinated by brown hair, but from Indians wearing American Eagle? less so.
(click "read more" for complete blog post)
Traveling in enclosed spaces seems to present this problem. If its not pictures, its "looking to the back of the bus" (a.k.a. the seat behind him at me). I don't mean for ten minutes. I mean every five minutes for four hours. In a kurta, salwar, and oily hair, am I really so fascinating? Plus, I make the point to meet his gaze and give him a dirty look half the time, which seems to have no effect whatsoever on this behavior. So when he turns his head for another "look back" and I move my face out of his line of vision, I'm the one changing my behavior. And I feel crappy for doing that. I'll just wear a ski mask then, because obviously the whitness of my acne-speckled face is too magical to resist and therefore I will take the blame and I will alter my behavior.
On the same bus ride, I'm sitting in front, and cars in front can see me through the windshield. The jeep passengers grin widely, and change their seat to get a better look at me. They wave and I scowl.
And one more traveling story. On a train from West Bengal to Assam. The entire car is open, with berths lower and upper so that they are in sets of four. I am on a lower berth, and one other young man is one the lower berth across from me. He is college or high school aged, quiet, shy, and helpful later when I have to get off at an unannounced station. There is also a high school soccer team. They run around the train for about two hours before starting to slowly occupy the berths above and across from me, six or eight of them, with others peering around the corner and hiding again when I look up. Its like I'm surrounded by monkeys, only monkeys asking my name, making kissy noises, and if I have a sister.
In old Delhi, on the back of a rickshaw, Margaux and I are having a great time, smiling broadly, when I motorcycle with three young men come within six inches of us before pulling back. We laugh it off, but the boys keep coming back. Again, and again, and again. We try to ignore them, but finally its actually scaring us, and I yell at them to go away. They continue to follow the rickshaw for another ten minutes, yelling and howling all the way. An older man on a moped behind us tries to reassure us they are just teasing. We know.
In Dharamsala, with my two friends. One gets up to ask for the check, and comes back to the table, confessing that the waiter accidently elbowed her in the boob. The check comes, and when he leaves the table, my other companion says, "I don't think it was an accident," as his knuckles just slid across her breast as well. We're good sports and find this hysterical, though when he comes over keep our arms strait out in front of us to grab the bill with as much distance as possible. The food was great, we would have gone back there if we weren't going to get groped.
In addition to other stories I can't think of at the moment, the most common event is an absurd amount of staring. Its not the staring you get in the US, which is 90% of the time flattering and makes you feel good about yourself. This is a kind of watching, which does not stop even if you call them out on it. If it isn't leering, picturing you with your clothes off, its the sentiment that they have a right to keep their eyes on me, that my very presence is reason enough to give them the authority to stare at me. Staring is rude in Indian society. But that doesn't seem to matter. It doesn't matter if I'm in skinny jeans and a tank top or if I'm in a salwar and kurta, I get the same amount of stares, I get the same kind of stares.
I've dealt with all of this rather lightly while I'm here. I've had to. If I make a big deal out of it then I would hate to ever go out in public. And I've had people I know make light of it too, laugh it off, say it isn't a big deal. But despite my treating it as not a big deal, it is. These stories aren't cute, I've felt affronted, I've felt insecure. Never concerned for my safety, but in some way violated. It is a problem in Indian society. In a culture with the highest rate of female infanticide. I'm supposedly at a radically feminist institution here, but I've been told directly and indirectly countless times by students and faculty that I can't do something because I will get raped. That is the abiding assumption and the blame is on me.
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