It's not a joke and it is not funny

A few weeks ago I was running near my office in broad daylight. A man wearing an IT tag riding his bike, grabbed my breasts. And he sped off before I had a chance to stop him or even take down his vehicle number. I felt violated but I kept running. I came back to my office and checked my messages. There is a meme with a woman wearing next to nothing appeasing a man. A part of me got chipped away.

A month ago I was sitting at work late into the night. I had work to do and things to accomplish and I was very tired. I was aware that I may have make do with a plain cheese sandwich once I get home. A message arrives under the garb of a joke. It says that a woman's place in life is to be in kitchen and make mayo and cheese sandwich. Another part of me got chipped away.

A few days ago, I was hugging my mother after she returned home from a long tryst in the US. She wanted to go visit her parents and was deciding on whether she needs to get back to work or retire for good. She was telling me that I need to be more careful with my financial investments. A meme arrives. A naked woman whose breasts are being suckled by a man. She is wearing a doctor's costume and the joke is that men will line up for such a service. I feel physically tired looking at this.

I had to muster every ounce of courage I had but I finally broke down and voiced my opinion that I didn't like these jokes at all. They aren't funny. I have never laughed at them. Most of them make no sense and are not remotely clever. They all follow the similar train of thought - to reduce women. A woman belongs in the kitchen, claims one. A woman will beat up her husband jokes another (how is domestic violence ever ok? Imagine a victim of domestic violence in that Whatsapp group who had to see that joke. Imagine how much that must have hurt them). One joke is that a married man is playing darts on his wife's face and keeps "missing" her (again with the domestic violence). There are jokes about male rape (how will men ever come forward to report rape if you turn them into jokes????!).

Honestly, I don't know any woman in my life who has ever laughed at these jokes. They may not always speak up against them (maybe the person who cracks the joke is their boyfriend, maybe they don't want others to think they are humorless, maybe they have just reached a point where they no longer want to point out the misogyny inherent in these jokes) but I know no one who laughs at them. How can they? Women in general get painted by broad brushstrokes - emotional, vain, nagging, unable to understand technical things ("oh jaanu I don't understand this code" joke), or are objects to be pulled apart. Let's reduce her to her ass, her tits, her lips and other body parts. Let's post a picture of her naked body for the consumption of others. Would you ever send such a joke to your mother? Your wife? Would you be ok if your sister is mocked for her divorce? Why do you think such jokes are then things that can be passed down from group to group?

Here's the thing. Offensive humor can be very very funny. Amy Schumer is crass and funny. Louis CK is a funny comedian who happens to be ridiculously original too. Tina Fey, John Oliver, Aziz Anasari, Amy Poehler, are all some of the most celebrated comedians today and they deliver jokes that are a commentary on the society as it exists right now. And they offend. And they call out hypocrisy. And they are funny. And they manage to do so without becoming unoriginal and saying - hey women can't work. Who will cook for you? (Again, how is this remotely funny?).

Studies have shown that jokes such as these are very harmful as they reinforce the inherent patriarchal mores that our society functions in (The very fancy research article here). The jokes create hostility. They make it unsafe for women to be themselves. How can we be when we are forced to "take the joke" and not express our outrage as a result of it? How can we tell our male friends that a man grabbed our breasts and we feel violated when they were joking about male rape earlier that day? And when we do say that we are offended by those jokes, we are told to ignore them. We are lectured on the freedom of speech (it's funny that freedom of speech only exists in the context of sexist jokes. They don't apply to me telling you that you have crossed the line).

Jokes can be funny and comedy can effect change (Another fancy research and its stats). Why can't we be part of the change that creates a world that is inclusive of men and women (also I cannot stand LGBT jokes...it's never funny to mock those who are already being subjugated)?

So, what happened you ask, when I finally spoke my mind? It hasn't been fun but it has resulted in a lot of introspection. For one I decided to no longer be in a space I didn't feel welcome in. I left the groups that I thought quietly chipped away parts of me. I tried to convey my discomfort, I was put down time and again and I realized that my voice was being stifled and it was my choice to walk away. I was told that I will lose friends as a result of my being "sensitive" and that made me feel really sad. But I pushed through. I don't want friends who just want an audience and are unwilling to see things from anyone's perspective but their own. How are we equal then? How are we friends? Of course I was told other things too. I was told that men do not find feminists "attractive". I was told that this was the reason people who are like me need to "get laid" (how to spot a sexist? Well, if the sexist male feels like he is losing the argument, he will immediately tell you that you are less desirable to the opposite sex...because that is what matters right?). Other parts of me got chipped away but I quietly rejected all those notions and stuck to my own convictions.I passive aggressively posted feminist memes on Facebook . It was not my smartest of moves but I wanted to create a safe space for me and just remind myself that females are strong as hell (it is a reference to indomitable Tina Fey's TV show - Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, not me making a grammatical mistake). I wrote this blog and reclaimed a part of my voice that was still afraid of ruffling feathers. I also learnt some important lessons along the way.

Fancy lessons learnt by Aishu in the past two weeks:

• Never expect anyone to stand up for you just because you think or you know you are in the right. It is their prerogative. You just have to deal with it. 
• Don't be afraid not to be the "cool girl". If you think you need to stand up for yourself and it goes against the status quo that has been established, don't let that drown your voice away. You have to always believe in yourself no matter what. Your opinions do not make you "hormonal" or "crazy". Don't let such men or women dictate your life and your voice. 
• Women need to stand up for other women (also men). We need to come together and support one another and help one another. And that starts with me. I won't support hypocrisy (that holds true for both men and women). I won't support a woman just because she is a woman. But if a woman expresses that she is uncomfortable due to someone's casual sexism (or heavy handed sexism), then I pledge to come to her defense and support her (or him if it is the case of a guy). I know what it feels like to be all alone in a fight and I will in my power never let that happen to anyone else ever again. 
• Welcome men into the conversation. I used to go by the old trope ("no uterus? No opinion"). But the truth is men constitute half the population and there are some fantastic men out there who want to help make the society equal for both sexes and we are pushing them away just because we feel their experiences as men invalidates them from fighting for equality of the genders. I am guilty of having done this in the past. I won't do this ever again. The fight is against a patriarchal system that imprisons both men AND women. Let's fight that together. 
• Unicorns are real. They will always be real. And they will always be awesome. Yes. I learnt that in the last two weeks. 

So, this is where I am right now in life. A little bruised and chipped away but still sparkling and awesome. I have discarded things from my life I no longer need and found a strength I didn't think I had. I would say that this is the modern day fairy tale. The modern day romantic comedy. I want to say that this is my happily ever after but I know better. This is my beginning. 

I am allowed to hate my home and love it too...

There have been two periods of my life when I couldn't wait to get out of India. Once when I was in 11th standard. For about six months I had decided I wanted to live in New York like those beautiful people on Friends. I would be like Rachel and Monica living in a nice NYC apartment talking about my first world problems. India was no good and I was meant for bigger things. I was meant for America. The first chance I got, I would leave and never come back.

Of course immediately after my 17th birthday, the American economy collapsed and the subprime mortgage bubble broke and I quietly congratulated myself for being in one of the fastest growing economies in the world - India. Who needs America when you have festivals, colour, beauty, a million languages and so much to do right here? I would make my home in India, I decided.

The second time I truly considered moving to America was when I visited my sister in California last year. It was a month of bliss. The weather was beautiful. I drank water out of the tap and was not worried. There were cycle tracks everywhere I turned. Beautiful trekking trails. Mountains and valleys. Hardly any traffic at all. And I could wear shorts and go for runs and no one would bat an eyelid. I think that's what appealed me to the most. I felt safe in whatever clothes I wore. In India I think twice about wearing something before going out, I enjoyed real freedom staying with my sister. I wore anything at all and was not remotely worried. She lives in one of the safest neighborhoods I have ever been in and I felt truly safe for the first time in my life. So, when I came back home I thought about it hard and long. America meant I would be closer to my sister and niece. And it also meant less pollution, better beaches, cleaner trails and I could run without worrying about some random man attacking me. But India is my home.

I have spent the last 10 years of my life using public transport in this country. Think Mumbai, Calcutta, Pune, Delhi, Chennai, Bangalore and even Hyderabad. I like public transport. You don't have to worry about weaving in and out of traffic and you can put on some music, take out a book and you can enjoy some "me time", till the chaos of the day takes over. But it hasn't always been like that for me. I was 17 when I had to first handle my first frisky "uncle". In Chennai they are famous. They come stand right behind you. And slowly they will put their hands on your hips. Some women squirm. Some women move away. Some women fight and some even ignore. I didn't quite know what to do when it first happened to me. I turned around startled. The man smirked almost daring me to scream at him. I came home in angry tears.

Of course I learnt to protect myself. I would loudly tell them to remove their hands. I would physically grab their hands while crushing their fingers and push them back. I would also sometimes (if I had the energy), fight. All this time it should also be noted (so the moral policing aunties and uncles won't claim that I was asking for this with my attire), I wore salwar kameezes as they were the dress code of my college. In a week I turn 26. I have had men flash at me. I have had men whistle at me. I had have men scream obscene words at me. And every time I have tried to fight back, I have often found myself surrounded by apathy. "You are a girl. This is India. It is for your own safety to be quiet and ignore." These are words I am very very used to hearing from people.

So why do I blame India? The truth is women are badly treated across the world. It's not an Indian issue. It's just that in India, I see it happening more in open. It's more accepted. I read everyday about young girls, women, aunties getting attacked, raped and worse. And every second you can trust me some girl is being harassed. But we tell ourselves that it's not the nation...it's the singular man in question. Does this mean India as a nation is not to blame at all? I don't buy into that theory. While the whole world is often described as a "man's world", in India, it is hard to be a woman at all.

After all this is nation where Sati was once glorified. Where widow re-marriage is still an anomaly. This is the nation where the boy-girl ratio ( 917 girls to 1000 boys) is so skewered because parents simply do not want a girl child. Where young girls are held back at home and not allowed to attend schools. Where dowry still exists. Where there aren't even enough bathrooms for girls in government schools. Even girls who are highly educated are expected to get married at 25, have kids by 27 and cook perfect meals while also having the perfect jobs. The Indian society has lived for centuries and decades under the impression that having a girl child is a burden. When a girl is raped, women snigger and say that she ought to have dressed appropriately. This is a nation where marital rape is not recognised by law. So if a woman was to be raped by her husband, he can get away with rape and she will never see justice meted out. She will never get justice. So, we can't blindly put the blame on the men who think it is their right to mistreat women, centuries of reinforcement in the nation has led them to believe that they can in fact get away with murder.

But why am I still here? I know a lot of you who love love love this nation, don't like to see it criticised. Would you even believe me when I say that I love this nation too? After all I have described it as being the perfect hell for women. The truth is I love my country. I want to see it prosper. I want it to be corruption free and safe for men and women alike. I want children to get the best possible education regardless of their economic strata and I want the caste system gone for good. But in order for this happen, I have to acknowledge that there is a problem. I can't get angry at the foreign tourists who come here and then talk about how their safety was violated. Their safety is often violated and I cringe every time I read those stories. I feel embarrassed for my nation. And I want it to get better.

After all this is my country. My home. I love the colours. I love the festivals. I love its broken roads. I love the overcrowded trains. I love its smells. I love its mountains. I love its people too. I love bhajjis you get outside Besant Nagar beach. I love how sometimes when you least expect it, a man will let you take his seat on the bus just because he noticed that you were tired. I love its bad movies. I hate its item songs. I love running in Cubbon Park early in the morning. I love travelling and discovering parts of this country that are brimming with history and tradition. I want to be part of its redemption. I want to pay the taxes here and be part of the solution. I want to be there when the roads get fixed. I want to be there when a politician surprises us by doing his/her job for a change. I want to be there when every child in the country has access to education. And I want to be there when women are not blamed for everything in the world. Where mothers-in-law don't kill their daughters-in-law for not paying enough dowry. Where infanticide does not occur. And that can happen only when good conscientious Indians stay back and try to create a new nation where women don't feel like they enter a battlefield every time they leave their homes. I will criticise this country. Because I love it. And I know that by sweeping the problems under the rug will not solve them. The dirt just accumulates. I love India and hate it sometimes. But I am not going anywhere. This my country and my home and it's not safe for me yet but one day it will be. I won't stop fighting. Because India is my home.