The case for uncles and aunties telling young people what to do

A few months ago, with the barrage of news on restricting personal freedoms, I had withdrawn into indifference. I had decided as long as I could do whatever I wanted, as long as I could download the books that were banned in my country and as long as I could wear whatever it is that I wanted, I was not going to worry about what the government was doing – slowly taking away, or suggesting taking away, entire personal freedoms of a whole generation.

I stand on the shoulders of women who fought hard so I could vote, smoke a cigarette in public, wear pants and get an education. If, in my privileged cocoon, I ignored where I was standing, then I was letting down every other young woman who was to come after me, expecting the same freedoms I have enjoyed. A couple of weeks ago, I chose to not keep quiet every time I heard sexist advice from self-satisfied, ignorant righteous uncles who decided to tell women how they should speak, how they should dress, and what they should do. When I opened myself up to it, boy, was I surprised how many men – and women – were afraid of young, independent women who had a mind of their own.

Take this staunch supporter of women’s lib, for instance. “Women shouldn’t dress as if they are going to a beauty contest.” Sage advice, yeah? He totally gets it: the amount of time one wastes getting ready for a beauty contest? You could read a Chetan Bhagat in that time. Don’t do your eyebrows or wear lipstick to college, he says, understanding the universe of pain women put themselves through for the small matter of looking beautiful. I, for one, am entirely on his side. If you’ve ever sat in that dreaded chair at the salon, watching a skilled woman prepping for your torture, you’ll be very thankful to the honourable Mr Vala, governor of Karnataka. I need two drinks of wine and a big hug before I head to the salon to get my eyebrows done, and get rid of my moustache. (I wonder how Mr Vala gets such a clean shave.)

And do I even need to get to the lipstick bit? Do you have any idea how much a tube of Mac Relentlessly Red costs? I mean you could go for the less expensive ColorBar, but the colour doesn’t spread so nicely on your upper lip that you haven’t threaded because you don’t want to look like you were headed to the neighbourhood beauty contest. So you certainly don’t want to be Rs 2000+ lighter. Mr Vala is on your side, ladies. He is in the stands championing the cause of saving money so you don’t do something as rash and entirely stupid as doing what you want. Because, whoa, poor men are so weak, they can’t keep their addiction-ridden paws off you if you put yourself through the torture of a threading and a lipstick application.

I am a bit tired of feminists screaming hoarse about well-meaning uncles, and in some cases, aunties telling them what to do. I mean, where is your sense of responsibility to the world and its uncles, in general? It is your duty, as a woman, to bravely pay heed to what everyone says about the way you dress, what you eat, where you go with your boyfriend to kiss (tch tch, you have a boyfriend?), which sock goes on first and how you shape your eyebrows. Don’t you know you belong to everyone, considering how every man on the street who catches the fancy to grab your breasts, feels free to do so? Show some responsibility, girl!

And, Mr Vala, thank you for wizened advice. I don’t know what we’d do without supporters like you. You really are helping the country take not just confident strides, but huge leaps to a self-assured future filled with personal freedom. Heartfelt gratitude. (What do you suggest I wear on my date tomorrow, which I will go on, leaving my young kids in the care of a baby sitter?)