There are so many narratives that influence us. They take many shapes and forms. Some are obvious, like people asking menstruators (people who menstruate) to hide their menstrual products – the narrative that periods are shameful. There are others that are hidden in plain sight, like the celebration of Vivah Panchami, the wedding anniversary of Lord Sri Ram and his wife Sita. Their marriage ended in shambles after Lord Ram asks Sita, pregnant at the time, to leave because society was gossiping about her supposed “impurity.” We celebrate their marriage once a year, praising Sita for being so strong for what she was put through, and not saying one thing about how unfairly she was treated. Not even in common conversation or retellings of their story is her toxic situation recognized. This is the narrative that made society’s opinion a priority over mental health, commitment, children, and so many other things. Don’t quote me on this (or do, what the hell), but that just might be one of the roots of the infamous words most Indian kids have heard in some way or the other “Log kya kehenge?” (What will people say?)
Today I want to talk about a narrative that defined my behavior as I grew up. It was the narrative that laid the lines around what are and aren’t qualities that make a Sanskaari woman.
So what does Sanskaari mean? Sanskaari is a Hindi word that refers to being traditional, cultured, well-mannered, and any other seemingly harmless adjective that sounds great. There are different words that are used in this sense such as in Telugu, the word is “sampradhaayamaina” or “paddhathigala.” Another word that might ring some bells is “proper.” Whatever the word, the message is the same – be this or be rejected. With the word being used to paint an ever-evolving portrait of the “perfect woman,” I wanted to talk about some ideas or qualities that serve as the base, the core, the background, if I may, of this painting.
Silence
Not plain silence. The silence that a Sanskaari woman has to maintain has a set of expectations in different situations. There’s silence in the form of lack of defiance. Saying no to people, especially elders, is discouraged from such a young age. We were taught that saying no is a form of disrespect, which it isn’t. Forget defiance, there’s also silence in the form of agreement, I cannot count the number of times I was frowned upon for having an opinion of my own. Don’t get me wrong, you can have opinions as long as they’re the same as everyone else’s opinions.
There’s also an unending list of forbidden topics. Don’t talk about finances even though you’re the one that buys the groceries, pays the gardener, and calls the health insurance guy. Don’t talk about menstruation because ew. Don’t talk about sex because in case you didn’t know, we’re all virgin babies. Don’t talk about vaginas because our flowers are delicate and will wilt if we mention them. Abortions and miscarriage don’t need discussion because first of all, we don’t have them and second of all, only picture perfect geniuses pop out of our uteri so don’t question God’s blessing. Don’t talk about the clitoris because that doesn’t even exist – female pleasure? That’s an oxymoron. I would like to end my mini list by reminding you not to fucking curse because that’s a shitty habit that only bitches have.
Another way this ridiculous narrative is pushed is through toxic celebration. Women who suffer in silence (Sita, anyone?) are applauded for their resilience and complimented for not complaining. When you do complain, you are told not to, because that’s how “things are” and it’s your responsibility to “make do.”
We serve at the pleasure…of everyone
You know what else is applauded and considered even “desirable” in women? Sacrifice.
Women that get up before everyone else even when they’re sick to pack lunches and get ahead of the day are a fan favorite. Not many people flinch when they hear a wife giving up her job or dropping everything and moving for her husband. But dare she ask the same in return? Outrage. People who couldn’t care about them a few minutes earlier would have at least six opinions.
We are constantly expected to please every single person around us. If we don’t, we’re incompetent. How many times have you heard a man being scrutinized for wanting to skip cooking for one day? Also don’t forget, the “everyone” that women are supposed to tend to doesn’t include themselves. Prioritizing yourself is NEVER encouraged. Worse, if someone got a sniff of it, they’ll have a list of other women who are “good examples” you’re supposed to “learn from.”
Being “homely”
Urgh, that word makes me shudder. While literally, the word translates into being something that reminds one of home, its use just makes me want to pull my hair out. It’s used as a compliment that perpetuates gender roles. Basically, homely women have a masters in household chores and keeping everyone’s shit together, and for some reason smiles all the time. You know, I could go on for another three pages about this word that I loathe and not be done, but I’m going to simplify it for you by channeling some gen Z energy – it’s a word that means #bahugoals (#daugherinlawgoals).
Paruvu/Prathishta (Honor)
Since we respect women so much, we falsely equated the family’s honor to the women of the house. This is just another blanket concept people use to control behavior. To protect the family’s honor, women are handed another not-to-do list. Speaking to divorcees, single men, women who society don’t like is a no-no. Appearances are everything. Metaphorical boundaries are drawn on our bodies indicating the (nonexistent) fine line between looking “respectable” and “slutty”. We have to look skinny and good enough to pique the interest of a potential mother-in-law, not so skinny that it looks like we’re starved. Makeup should be kept at a noticeable and charming level. “Too much” will attract a man’s attention, “too little” and you won’t be noticed and showered with compliments (by elders only, duh). Our behavior is moderated from the get-go, not for our own good, but so that our future in-laws won’t call our parents.
On a side note, ladies, it’s all about precision. My perfect look consists of a primer of at least three deep breaths, 2.5 pumps of not giving a fuck, and both my best friend and sister on speed dial to finish off.
The Maguva Take
While the ways different narratives manifest in people varies, it’s important to take the time to recognize and understand the messages the world is sending us. If we understand how these messages affect our thinking, that’s when we can take the step to choose to expose ourselves to different narratives. Whether that involves unfollowing toxic content on social media or completely shutting out toxic people, that’s for you to decide.
What I would like to do, for all our good, is to tell this portrait of a Sanskaari to fuck off. Now for my own good I’ll paint a new one, right on top. My portrait has a woman who may not have her shit together, and she probably doesn’t feel great all the time. At the end of the day, she washes her face off, looks in the mirror and sees someone she respects. Someone that is strong in her own way, someone that takes pride in making her own decisions. She turns regrets into an agenda and feels good about herself even though she makes mistakes. She’s open to growth and change. Whenever she can, she lends a hand to those that need one, and uses her voice to challenge and provoke limiting norms. She is a reliable friend and an overprotective sister. That’s the portrait I want to grow into. Paint your own, I bet you it will look amazing.
Like I said earlier, this narrative affected me a lot growing up. It still does now. All the qualities that were complimented in me, I chose to amplify. Whenever I heard opinions I had being called inappropriate or uncultured, even though they were harmless, I pushed them deep down. It was just easier at the time to go with the flow and be a people-pleaser, than to grow into my own self.
For a long time, what people thought of me mattered. I’m not saying that it doesn’t affect me anymore, it does, but I am becoming better and better at brushing it off. You can’t please everyone you guys, I’m not kidding. When I decided to go to medical school in another country there was a lot of push back. Some people were worried that it wouldn’t be safe to send me so far away, while others couldn’t help but be devastated that prospective grooms would be dwindling in numbers by the time I graduated. In the midst of all the drama of moving away from home, a relative called up my mother and told her not to send me because I would end up eloping with a foreigner. See? You would think a brown kid wanting to go to medical school (fitting the model minority is a conversation for another day) would be given a green light from space, but no. The light was more of a turmeric yellow.
Do I respect women who are busting their asses juggling the roles of wife, mother, employee, friend, sister, daughter, etc? Hell yes. But what I think needs to change, or rather begin, is the way we talk about it. Do you know one of these people holding themselves to ridiculous standards and superwoman-ing their way through it all? Give them a damn compliment about it, Sita knows they deserve a reminder. But also, are these standards draining them? Point that shit out. It is OKAY to recognize an unhealthy situation or person and talk about it. There may be a way to make someone’s life easier, even if all that can be done is to have an empathetic conversation with them. You could bring a lot of much needed accepting space into someone’s day.
Let me set the record straight here. You know what’s homely to me? Not just my mother’s cooking, for Sita’s sake. My mother making sure she spends extra time with me when I’m having a bad day. Bickering with my brother about a movie that he’s obsessed about and that I slept through. Annoying the hell out of my sister as she tries to have a day without drama. Long conversations with my best friend which have the tendency to start about chicken wings and end in tears. That is my homely.
The problem here is with our expectations, our assumptions. Sacrifices that are needed to be made are assumed to be made by the wife, the mother, the sister. We don’t question this. Worse, we don’t realize how disempowered these women become because of this. We ask them, “Are you okay?” without giving them the space not to be. Think back – many, if not all of us are guilty of this.
I’m definitely not guilt-free in this toxic patriarchal cycle. I feel regret. I took my mother for granted. I took up a lot of her time and energy without being grateful about it. I used to just assume she would be there, ready to fulfill my needs – and she was, ALL the time. I’m trying to make my amends, however I don’t think I can ever do enough to justify the sacrifices she made for me. I will try though, and you should too. Make a list of all the women in your life and ask yourself if you’ve ever put unfair expectations on them. Message them, call them, write them a letter. Be mindful with them.
Until next time.
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