Exercising female autonomy

According to our ancient Puranas, Lord Indra killed the Brahmin demon Vritra and his sin was passed on to women in the form of menstruation. It seems that India loves this tale of yore that — conveniently — seeks to vilify women in the hands of men, for what else would explain the way that this country has made women pay — over and over again — for the natural act of bleeding.

Ask the woman sitting next to you and she’ll tell you. How humiliating our customs and traditions are for that time of the month. We’re told that we cannot be touched by anyone because we’re ‘dirty’, ‘polluted’, ‘cursed’ and ‘impure’. We’re told not to enter any religious place or attend any religious ceremony because we will ‘anger god’. We’re told that we cannot enter the kitchen because anything we touch will rot. We’re told not to wash our hair, water our plants, or sleep with our husband because they’ll become impure. We’re told to buy our own sanitary pads, for no one else will, and then wait silently as the chemist double-wraps the pads in a newspaper so that no one else can see our ‘shame’. 

That’s, of course, if we can even afford pads, because 88 per cent of the 497 million women in our country cannot. Instead, they use rags, sand, sawdust, leaves or ash, leaving them vulnerable to diseases and infections, as well as illiteracy and unemployment, as they cannot step out of their homes. Yet, our government levied a 12 per cent GST (hence removed) on pads, putting this essential commodity in the same bracket as luxury items. Despite the fact that women spend five days a month, two months a year, and seven years of their life menstruating, it’s still considered taboo in every aspect of our daily life.

Yes, India has a particular disdain for women who bleed. A disdain that is unjustified, arbitrary, reprehensible and unlawful. So you can imagine why we women (well, most of us anyway; no thanks to Indu Malhotra) were up in arms that women between the ages of 10 and 50 (menstruating ages) were banned from entering the Sabarimala temple in Kerala. Many justifications were given for this archaic decision, of course. Of upholding faith, where it was presumed that a man’s faith is stronger than a woman’s faith. Of upholding customs, though women used to enter the temple during the rule of the Travancore King. Of upholding the law of the land, though the ban impinged on articles 14, 15, 17 and 25 of the IPC. Of upholding religion, though our Hindu goddesses themselves are bare-breasted and powerful; they’re not ancillaries to male deities like Lord Ayyappa.

No, Sabarimala wasn’t a simple debate between chauvinism and gender equality, or between tradition and modernism, or even between religious practices and sovereignty. No. It was an issue of female autonomy. Of sending out a message to India that women are neither impure, nor can they be dehumanised by the internalised patriarchy that has seeped into our religious psyche. Restricting women on the basis of their biology is discriminatory. Excluding women from places of worship is abhorrent. Sabarimala had to open its doors.

Religion serves different purposes for different people. Some pray for worship, some to keep their faith, some to follow norms, some to ask for favours, and most out of fear. All that’s fine. Do what you believe in. But when your religion, whether it involves bowing in your mosque, kneeling in your temple, or praying in your church, diminishes and disrespects women, stop. Reflect. Religion is not a codified mode of misogyny. Men do not have the theological authority to determine which tenets are essential to any faith. 

Matters of religion are not matters of society but a private matter between a person and their faith. Let women decide where they want to pray, how they want to pray, when they want to pray, and even if they want to pray. And if they’re bleeding while they’re at it, that’s their choice to exercise, not yours. You can either stay on the side of right or do it wrong all over again.

Yes, it’s the one thing patriarchy most dreads: A new willingness on the part of women to exercise choices. It tries to silence the voice of women but it can no longer silence the law of the land. It cannot expect the State to untangle itself from religion. The Supreme Court is merely reflecting the reform that India so badly needs, while protecting those who’ve most heavily paid the price for the society’s hypocrisy. The Supreme Court has become the feminist that India most needs.

Of course, there are those who are aghast that religion has been ‘nationalised’. They ask why the courts — and not customs or communities — have become the final arbiter of faith. I ask you this: Where have your customs and communities left women? How have they treated women over the last few centuries? When a woman is beaten and thrown out of her marital home, have your customs saved her? When a woman is burnt alive for dowry has your community protected her? No. Why then should women respect customs that stink of misogyny? Why should women pander to communities that subjugate us? Bas, ab bahut ho gaya.

In the 21st Century, the tale of Lord Indra has been reversed. Today the ones committing sins are the ones who pretend most to uphold faith, at the continued cost of India’s daughters and mothers. They must be stopped. Because God does not hate women, patriarchy does.

The writer is a multiple award-winning author, columnist and speaker who has recently published the critically acclaimed Feminist Rani (Penguin). Views expressed are personal.