An unfortunate death in the family led me, along with my husband and in laws to their village. I have been born and bred in a multitude of cities, owing to an army background and thus am unaccustomed to the way of life in a village.
This breezy morning, just as we were nearing the village, my mom in law told me to cover my head with a dupatta (long scarf worn with Indian clothing). My husband who was driving, instinctively asked if he needed to cover his head too. He instantly received a nonchalant reply that it wasn’t required for him. He possibly didn’t hear the response and reiterated his question. To which I replied saying, Love, I think that is meant only for the women.
After a pregnant pause, my father in law explained that its a customary practice where women keep their faces covered in front of men.
It was a piece of information that I have been given before and I have in my attempt to “not boil the ocean” in the past, been guilty of succumbing to these protocols as needed. I mean I didn’t cover my face in entirety but I gave in to cover my head just as I would have in a religious temple or gurudwara.
Yesterday, somehow, I didn’t feel like cowering down. And so I told my father in law that I have no qualms about covering my head where it may be required as a sign of respect in religious places. However, I do take issue with covering my head as an alleged sign of respect to men in general. I disagree vehemently and will not be comfortable with it. My father in law almost promptly retorted, saying “you don’t need to, if you don’t want to”. I felt relieved that this didn’t have to be an elongated argument and was pretty much instantly understood by him. In fact he laughingly told me to stand for gram panchayat (local government body) and do some good for the womenfolk in the village.
In a minute thereafter, my mom in law nudged me again to cover my head saying that there isn’t an unnecessary need to create controversy and give people more fodder to talk. Feeling confident of my father in law’s bold backing, I told her that I have my father here to support me. I will be fine. In her defense, my mom in law too, didn’t mean any harm. I think there is just this human tendency to try to avoid conflict and thus the response.
And so I walked into a room, with a dupatta draped across my shoulders, surrounded by a room full of women with their faces hidden behind fabric of one kind or another with eyes peering at me. To be honest, it did feel uncomfortable. I think it was almost easier to give in and cover my face along side the rest of them. However, I had been determined to keep my nerve and was willing to hone my pugnacity if needed. God willing, it didn’t come to that.
This may seem like a small thing to many but to me, it meant a lot.
I grew up in a sheltered army home, where questions of inequality never even arose and therefore my revelation of this insidious culture that demeans women at every chance was fairly late. Consequently, the incessant need to voice my view for women in general only took root in my later years.
All of my married life, I have been rather categoric about my stance on women rights with my in laws. However, somehow, I too have refrained from conflict or controversy as far as village protocol was concerned. I guess, the rarity of my visits made me feel that it may not be worth the time and effort.
But now, with 2 growing daughters in tow, I think every act of mine sets a precedence for my daughters to follow. Every rule that I follow indicates to them that they need to bow too. Every tradition I question, instills the boldness in them to question it too. Every rule that I break increases their confidence in the ability to question society and voice a need for change.
Respect is earned. It should never be commanded. Especially by virtue of gender. We were all born equal.
Menfolk have not done anything to deserve this birthright of honor and respect. It is something that is gained by deeds done individually, slowly and steadily during the course of your life, be it men or women.
Change begins at home. One step at a time.
Sometimes, with the smaller things.
Celebrate the progress, the small wins.
Our paths will lead up to the bigger goals, sooner or later.