It’s a bad time to be a woman in India. A culture of toxic masculinity has transferred the fight for dignity, justice and gender equality from the state and society to women themselves.
In a jolt to Indians, or at least to its female population, two women from the Kuki tribe of the north-eastern state of Manipur were stripped naked and paraded by a mob of men from a rival community. A chilling video of this emerged only two months after the incident, because of internet curbs.
In the meantime, Manipur burned amid violent ethnic clashes. A police complaint lay unattended for months, and one of the women alleged they were left to the mob by policemen who were meant to guide them to safety as their villages went up in flames. The younger of the two women alleged she was gang raped.
It took the government two months and more to publicly acknowledge these atrocities against women in the state. The chief minister of Manipur, N Biren Singh, kept his job throughout it all. And India’s woman president, Droupadi Murmu, didn’t dismiss Singh’s government to invoke President’s Rule amid the failure of administrative machinery in the state – though she could have done. India’s minister of women and child development, Smriti Irani, a woman adroit in defending the indefensible, stayed leashed and tongue-tied during the savagery.
It was public outrage over the leaked video that compelled a quiescent prime minister, Narendra Modi, to condemn the incident before he embarked on his first session in a new parliament building. He then directed all states to strengthen laws to protect women. That’s cold comfort in a country where crimes against women have swelled, touching a record in 2021. The Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) must be red-faced that, in the nine years it has been in power, gender-based aggression has risen. This includes aggression of men and their relatives against women partners.
Indians must now ask if the muscularity they see at the top is being misinterpreted by the masses. In India’s deeply patriarchal society, in which women are seen as inferior to men, that’s a dangerous, unintended slide. PM Modi has publicly championed the cause of women. In one of his earliest speeches as leader he coined the phrase “teach your daughters; save your daughters” and asked parents to monitor what their boys were up to, instead of restricting the freedom of their girls. Which was the right tone to try and initiate change. But when boys see toxic masculinity being normalised, going unpunished and sometimes even celebrated, the message can get confusing.
In Gujarat, where Modi comes from, eleven convicts who were serving a life term for gang raping Bilkis Bano and murdering fourteen of her family in a religious mob attack two decades ago, were set free last year. They were garlanded and feted by right-wingers. A ruling party legislator who recommended their release defended the action. Ironically, India marked its 76th Independence Day celebration on the day the convicts left jail. This, as Modi again exhorted Indians to show respect to women in word, thought, deed and action.
The on-ground reality, though, is playing out differently. As India’s women wrestlers – Olympians, medallists, admired and respected – would know. They had to sit in protest at the capital Delhi in April to force the eye of the government to focus on a party member and parliamentarian accused of sexual harassment. The women alleged that the chief of the Wrestling Federation of India preyed on several of them, including a minor. Despite assurances, their complaints were whitewashed and the police were shy to register a case until the matter reached the country’s Supreme Court. The accused, a formidable vote-magnet for the ruling party, runs free though a charge sheet now hangs over his head.
Most recently, a 24-year-old allegedly beheaded his sister in an honour killing. He carried her head in a sack to the police station with impunity. In neighbouring Delhi and cosmopolitan Mumbai two men allegedly murdered and quartered their live-in women partners and carried on as though nothing had happened. Indian women are unsafe as lovers, daughters, mothers or bystanders because society has normalised aggression against women.
Misogyny and toxic masculinity has become a problem that women think they have to solve. Some are taking this to heart. In a Manipur village, women set fire to the house of the alleged rapist, one of their own, after the video went viral. But as we all know, delivering justice is the job of the state and its institutions, not individuals.
The role of principled citizens is more nuanced. For India to overcome what now seems an insurmountable problem we must start at the cradle, when boys are born. After all, India’s problem is its men. We must raise our boys cautiously, letting them know that something is deeply wrong with them if they need to disrespect women in order to feel superior. It is our boys who must never be left out of sight and who must be counselled, not our girls. Boys need to relearn that shame is when a boy transgresses, not when a girl feels violated. That they should feel angry, not nonchalant, every time a woman is denigrated.
Gender sensitisation should be part of every school curriculum and a nationwide community programme. Boys should be allowed to feel vulnerable and not pressured to opt for stereotypical pursuits and careers. Stop judging them for choosing knitting over karate, home decorating instead of home building, or cooking rather than coding. This sensitisation should continue well into adulthood, be that in workplaces they attend, the religious groups they are a part of, or the community leaders they look up to.
We Indians need to reinforce gender equality by breaking stereotypes in popular culture, in our movies, advertisements or literature. It’s time to reject the idea that masculinity means aggression and that a woman’s job is seduction, that she needs protection and should assume a submissive demeanour. Men should be encouraged to be caregivers to the vulnerable, to develop the empathy that is needed for this massive shift.
It is also time to claim collective social responsibility. Individuals can no longer pretend they are not responsible for deeply patriarchal attitudes because it’s not coming from their own home or family. They cannot just take refuge in the fact they are raising their children well and are therefore not responsible for the transgressions of men thousands of miles away, or for violence emanating from another religious group, caste or community. Without sustained social pressure across the board it will be hard to break misogynist attitudes. Without a mass pushback on toxic masculinity, we are unlikely to see any change. Men who know better must show intolerance to both bias and violence against women.
Boys see toxic masculinity being normalised, going unpunished and sometimes even celebrated
Of course, the problem is complex and there are no simple answers or quick fixes in a country as diverse as India. Patriarchy plays out differently in various parts of the country. In rural India, women watch their backs when they are out alone in the fields, living in patriarchal families, or from lower castes. They are often violated and abused by men anticipating any given opportunity to exploit them. In urban areas a woman arriving home later than expected can trigger assumptions that she might be in some kind of danger. Companies avoid having women employees on late-night shifts to lessen their responsibilities. Women demanding an equal voice are labelled overbearing even in the most egalitarian of workplaces – newsrooms included. The onus of safety still lies with the woman: she must dress modestly, not stay out late or be seen alone. A woman’s greatest asset, so it seems, is her invisibility.
India needs its people to speak up and make women visible and countable. The stakeholders in society who are held as role models and have the power to shape public discourse must choose moral rectitude over caution. India’s active cricketers – its sporting superstars – did not support the protesting wrestlers, despite being called out on their silence. Big Bollywood actors remained silent on Bano. Several influential news channels steered clear of asking hard questions.
For the young in India, the silence of their sporting heroes and Bollywood goddesses indicated that there’s nothing terribly wrong with what’s going on. Perhaps Indians, inadvertently, are becoming inured to atrocities and bias against their women. Women in India must not be allowed to feel that no matter how hard you fight for justice or how vaunted your achievements (Sakshi Malik was the first Indian woman wrestler to win an Olympic medal), or how vulnerable you may be (the Manipuri, women were fleeing arsonists in their village), India is not on the side of its women.
The disaffection is starting to show up in the numbers in a country that has ambitions to be counted among the top economies in the world. A Periodic Labour Force Survey for last year said only around 29 per cent of women were part of India’s labour force, as compared to nearly 81 per cent of India’s men. And according to a 2023 World Economic Forum report, India ranks 127 among 146 countries on gender parity. India’s tiny neighbour Bangladesh is miles ahead at the 59th spot: the best performer in South Asia.
The truth is, unless we rewire attitudes, neither tough legislation nor rhetoric will dilute the patriarchy that keeps women on the margins. Our change must begin with the attitudes of men towards women, not in a woman’s response. And those with a big voice should take the lead through their resolve and their actions, not just their rhetoric.
Anjana Menon is a former international business journalist and editor, and an author and commentator. She advises leadership on communication and policy strategy. She can be found at @menonanj
