An Outsider’s Inside Look on Rape & Domestic Abuse in India

I just want to start with a disclaimer: I am only writing to present my perspective, personal experiences, and musings.  I do not seek to represent the whole country or culture. 

Rape.  A word filled with trauma, dehumanization, and shame.  Even before I left Canada to return to India in early Dec (before the infamous Dec. 16 rape in Delhi), my best friend’s mom handed me a newspaper clipping from The Georgia Straight about how India has been voted by sociologists and anthropologists worldwide as the worse country for women to live in out of all the G20 countries.  According to a BBC article, strong policies against violence and exploitation combined with good access to education and healthcare make Canada the best G20 country to be a woman, while infanticide, child marriage and slavery make India the worst. As TrustLaw states, "As a child, [and Indian woman] faces abuse, rape and early marriage and even when she marries, she is killed for dowry.  If she survives all of this, as a widow she is discriminated against and given no rights over inheritance or property."

My background is I’ve been here as a tourist twice for a total of 7 weeks, visiting 5 different states.  I’m currently staying in Andhra Pradesh (in south India) for longer periods.  Here’s what I’ve encountered of the objectification of women (as sex objects) and rape.  While travelling with friends in India, there was 1 incident in which we were on a packed train—it took us 15min to walk 8 steps in the sea of people—and there was a man grinding against her while her enormous backpack kept her tightly lodged for a few seconds.  There is this lady who is around 20 who lives near my friends who has had a child out of wedlock.  The adorable and energetic 5-year-old is a product of rape.  Her mother always had trouble speaking & can only utter sounds.  She got raped when she was working at a motel.  I have also met a vibrant, intelligent, and western (in her way of thinking as well as dress) socialite who is a product of rape.  Her mother travelled for 6 hours to drop her off when she was only 3 days old.  She grew up there and was adopted as an older child.  My friend told me that there are at least 3 stories of abuse, rape, or murder every day in the newspaper in their district alone, never mind the entire state.

Although there are many sources that build up a certain mindset and perception of women in the minds of men, I have to say that the media is quite interesting here.  Not that I usually watch Bollywood or Telugu movies, but I am subjected to this mind-numbing form of torture when I take overnight buses to cities.  Although there is no overt nudity, girls dancing in the musicals in movies are often scantily dressed by western standards.  Imagine what a shocker that is to your average Indian who sees only women dressed in traditional clothes that cover your shoulders, chest, and legs.  I always cringe at the objectification of women as merely sexy eye-candy in movies.  Even the framing of the camera lens (do forgive me if I don’t know film jargon) is often male centered.  A little zooming in here, a little elevatoring there, and voila, you get your male audience drooling.  The catchy theme songs aren’t much better.  I once heard this song that had a chorus dedicated to the repetition of “your eyes, your smile, your curves, your legs” or something similarly shallow.  Movies here also often show a very superficial side of relationships.  I’m not saying that Hollywood is much better, but at least the protagonists usually talk to each other before falling head over heels in love.  I’ve seen so many movies in which the male and female protagonists fall in love during a prolonged, electrifying glance or a mere touch of the hand.  Talk about over-sensualization of relationships!  I’m not saying that movies make men take extreme actions, as each individual is responsible for his/her actions, but it does help to form attitudes.  

I haven’t personally experienced any degrading treatment from men.  It is probably due to the fact that 99% of the people I interact with are Christians & they highly respect me as foreigner.  Also, the 1% of people I interact with who are not Christians are usually skilled tradesmen or construction workers; they also give me my due respect. During my 6 overnight train rides and maybe 20 overnight bus rides, I’ve never had a problem.  I’ve even taken an overnight train for 20h alone to save money.  I’ve taken lots of autos (auto rickshaws) and private taxis, often with just another girl—my fearless best friend, Catherine.

(As a side note, interestingly enough, despite the fact that India is a tough place for women to live, most people—especially in the countryside—feel a sense of security.  Because the home is half indoors and outdoors, housewives are always out and about.  Even if they’re inside, the doors are open to let in air.  People are often outside their one-room houses to cook, wash clothes, and use the washroom.  As a result of frequent power outages and no AC in most rural homes, people always keep their doors open with only a curtain hanging at the doorway.  In the summers, families take their cots to sleep in their courtyards or on the terrace.  I’ve even been in homes in big cities where people leave their front doors open for ventilation.)

I have heard many stories of domestic abuse.  I have witnessed it from my 2^nd floor veranda.  The husband and wife were fighting so loudly they could be heard miles away.  For some reason, the husband was trying to beat his wife.  He ran after her with a knife and when he was intercepted by intervening relatives and neighbours, he picked up a giant stick.  I wanted to run out and say something, do something, but I was told that they’ll settle it in their own community.  If any outsider intervenes (even someone who’s Indian), they’ll end up turning on the outsider.  There’s something magically unifying when there is an outsider to form a coalition against. 

I’ve also heard many stories about fighting in the house.  One time I naively asked the child who was narrating the story, “who was hitting who?  Was your dad hitting your mom or your mom hitting your dad?”  The child didn’t even understand my question.  I was told by the translator that, that question isn’t even necessary because no woman in India would lift a hand against her husband.  I’ve seen 2 children I formed relationships with bawling on the street because they just witnessed their dad hit their mom.  We’ve had an instance when one of our construction workers threw a shovel at his wife who was also working with us.  Apparently, she was nagging him too much about his harsh discipline of his sons. 

I’ve found that domestic violence is often linked to the abuse of alcohol.  Alcoholism is a serious problem here.  Alcohol is dirt cheap in liquor shops and even cheaper when made at home from palm trees sap.  In some villages, homemade alcohol is the main source of income, above whatever farmers can make from agriculture.  Domestic violence is generally accepted here and most people won’t interfere unless if the wife’s life is in danger.  I think sometimes men look down on their wives because of their “failure” to produce a male heir.  I wonder what these men would say if they knew that they are the ones responsible for the chromosome that determines the sex of the baby?  For many, raising girls means saving a lot of money to pay for their dowries when they married.  Although this practice was outlawed in 1961 under the Indian civil law, it is still prevalent and there’s nothing the government can do to stop it.  Having girls also means that you make an investment with little returns: girls end up joining their husbands’ families.

All of the bad media and musing above aside though, I’ve met many decent, respectable, and humble Indian gentlemen.  I’ve witnessed tears trail down Vimal’s cheeks as we read through articles about rape in India centering around the appalling Dec. 16 incident.  As in any other country around the world, India has all sorts of people.  It’s just sad that certain pockets of the culture condone the degradation and objectification of women, and failures of the system allow appalling forms of this dehumanization to unfold. 

Don’t get me started now on the reports I’ve read about rape victims that go to police stations to only get raped there again by the law enforcement officers.  My blog is long enough already.