Women and the age of equity, equality and love

Natasha Badhwar

I was at my daughters’ junior school sports day function on a particularly hot summer weekday afternoon. Enthusiastic parents of primary school students sat in open rows around the sports field applauding the children as they participated in the track and field events. Some of us sought protection behind dark glasses, others had covered their heads with dupattas.

“Come on girls, you are no less. Show us that you can also do it. Today you must run like you are no less than the boys,” boomed a teacher’s voice on the loudspeaker.

At that moment, I wanted to pluck my daughter out of the crowds and shield her ears from this carelessly worded call to action. As I type this, I am equally concerned for all those children who regularly hear these judgmental words as the voice of authority.

It starts early in women’s lives and the words really sting. More often than not, gender discrimination is so normalised in our conversations, jokes and life strategies that when someone calls it out, we look oddly at the person. Why over-react to something that has been regarded as acceptable for so long, and by so many?

It’s 2022, people! That’s why we must react and resist. Why should girls grow up in a world that casually believes that they are not as good as boys? That if they try hard enough, they may catch up? Why should we rely on outdated notions that diminish our children’s innate sense of self-worth, eroding it silently?

We know better. Yet, our language and expression remain out of sync, and even archaic.

In the mid-1990s, when private news was first broadcast on Doordarshan and the first few private broadcasters like Star News and Aaj Tak set up news channels in India, there was a proliferation of roles for video journalists and producers for news television. I was among the first few women who chose to be videographers in this exciting new industry.

Everywhere we went with our video equipment, we were stared and commented at. We learnt to ignore and overlook this. We stood out among our colleagues because we hadn’t chosen the more conventional roles of producer or reporter. We were being watched to see how long we would last in our careers. Would we be able to be even marginally competent?

One way in which I safeguarded myself from the critical gaze of society was by creating a bubble around me that filtered out the noise. Video journalism is physically and mentally gruelling. It demands hyperfocus and the ability to adapt and think on one’s feet. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by what others were thinking or saying about me. I was on my own mission and I single-mindedly surrounded myself with those who enabled and supported me to learn and get better everyday. This included both male and female colleagues, mentors and peers.

Ironically, I learnt the hardest lesson in the most unexpected way. The novelty of young women working with film and video cameras brought the attention of the media. The first time I was interviewed and profiled for having made an unconventional choice of career, I realised that the printed story was entirely focused on my being a woman and the attitudes of my male colleagues towards me. Not on my work or talent or abilities. It didn’t matter how good I was. The attention was focused entirely on my gender.

“What is the big deal about being a woman?” I wanted to retort. Why is gender identity pushed to centerstage every time a woman proves to be competent at what she does?

When women do break barriers and even the proverbial glass ceiling, we still fall in the trap of celebrating their achievements as quite good, ‘despite being a woman’. We feel entitled to know about the personal life of women who achieve, we are curious about the compromises they may have made — continuing to assume that it isn’t natural for women to carve their own niche and pursue their passion with determination and resilience.

The false hierarchy between men and women makes women feel inadequate and unsupported, irrespective of their choices and achievements. It seems to suggest that they need to negate their femininity and be more like men to be accepted in workplaces. It denies the value of one’s unique skill sets and experience.

Everyday, as we scan media reports and step out into the world, we let so much pass because it is tiresome to confront and outrage constantly. We choose our battles, because we want to win at what we focus on. What we need is a new language and expression when we talk of men and women achieving their potential at whatever they choose to do. All-women teams and all-women crews need to be celebrated but we also need to normalise and accept all women at every rung in the workplace.

Ultimately, change will come from both perseverance in demanding small changes as well as outright disruptive acts. Individual energy is finite, but the power of the collective is infinite.

—The writer is a filmmaker & author.

natasha.badhwar@gmail.com

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