“Gang rape and brutality similar to the ‘Nirbhaya’ case reported from Badaun, UP” reads the news. And once again, this question reiterates in my head.
Why ‘Nirbhaya’?
Why did an entire country choose to call a rape victim ‘Nirbhaya’, which means ‘fearless’, and use it as a yardstick to measure the severity of rape cases that folllowed. It makes me wonder how conveniently we have tucked in the brutality against countless women behind one neat white-washed word “Nirbhaya”. How we put a name to a women’s suffering to be mentioned flippantly in discussions, debates, blogs, carefully tip-toeing past the iron rod, her intestines scooped out, her pain, her death.
Yes, there is law prohibiting the media from disclosing a rape victim’s name. But Jyoti Singh’s parents have been insisting on it and using her name publicly. Why does the media insist on calling Jyoti Singh “Nirbhaya” then? Are we too comfortable with the story that weaves itself around a name that means “fearless”, that deifies women into goddesses, Durgas and Kalis. And have we done this because a goddess or a daughter/sister is the only kind of women (or rape victim) we can respect? How difficult is it to treat a woman as just a human being who is scared of how this country treats her, who feels pain, who feels violated?
The other day me and my sister went out on a walk to the playground near our house. It was 7.30 pm, it was dark and deserted. A group of 5-6 men approached us and asked us our father’s name (what are girls without the patriarch’s identity), our surnames (because the caste’s important, obviously!), where our house was. When my sister asked why, the man in all his entitlement, said, “Just asking ‘cause it's very late to be outside!” We wanted to ask, why were THEY out at that time then. But guess what, WE WERE AFRAID.
In the mornings when I jog past our village roads, there’s this shop on the way. The boy always catcalls. I don’t engage, I have been taught to just ignore. Another day, I got followed by a creep, in broad daylight, when I was jogging through an empty road by the forests. I tried not answering his incessant questions, I ran faster. I couldn’t help but wonder if I should not have come out alone, if I should have worn something that covered my legs better. I ordered a pepper spray as soon as I reached home. That day I kept thinking of the endless possibilities, of how I would defend myself if need be. Because in this country, it's the women who should take care, to “avoid being raped”, a country where, a member of the National Commission for women herself, says that the rape victim should not have gone to the temple alone. I kept wondering how much caution on my part was enough caution. How much clothing on my body was enough clothing.
We, the women of this country, do not want to have to be brave to just go out for a walk, to visit the temple, to go for a movie, to exercise our very basic rights. We are NOT Nirbhaya. We are scared. And YOU are responsible for it. Yes you, the beneficiaries of patriarchy and caste, the “what-aboutery” gang, the ”com’on-yar-not-all-men” gang. You are responsible for creating/contributing to/allowing the ‘rape culture’ – that uses rape as a tool to oppress its women. Rapists aren’t extraordinary monsters. They’re real people who are blinded by patriarchal and casteist superiority. They’re everywhere, at homes, public places, harassing women, passing a seemingly harmless sexist remark, treating women as lesser, conditioning women to believe they are weak, and YOU who chooses to not call out these gender-based microaggressions in your everyday life, treading past safely, enjoying your privilege, posting your condemnation on social media only when rapes “as grave as the Nirbhaya case” happens, garnering likes and acclaim.
