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Culture Shock: Domestic violence and rape in India

2014 has seen India rise to public attention as a result of a growing number of rapes from 2011-2014. These cases have instigated an international response and an internal re-evaluation of gender inequality.

National statistics indicate that a crime is committed against a woman every three minutes, with 93 women being raped daily. Marital rape still does not qualify as a criminal offence in its own right, unless presented to a court under the form of domestic violence. Domestic violence in itself is an unremitting threat to India’s female citizens with 70 percent of women being affected, according to Renuka Chowdhury, minister of women and child development. These figures intimate that the Protection of Women from Domestic Violence Act 2005 has little bearing, if any, on the reality of women’s legal protection and potential remuneration.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi broached this issue during a public address to mark India’s 68th Independence Day, emphasizing the need for parents to re-educate not their daughters but their sons. Modi’s speech is symptomatic of an ongoing drive in India to bring women’s rights to the forefront of national discourse. Political parties and independent organisations alike are paving the way for progress and a reassessment of legislation. The Indian Aam Admi Party held a rally earlier this year to protest against the rape and murder of a young girl in January, bearing banners in favour of capital punishment. Community members from the state of Uttar Pradesh also reacted to a gang rape in their area, only to be dispersed by police water cannons. The people of Uttar Pradesh were responding to Minister Arun Jaitley’s reference to the rapes as a ‘small incident’ that would ‘cost us billions of dollars in terms of lower tourism’; a remark swiftly deflected by left-wing politician and feminist activist Kavita Krishnan as a violation of women’s rights.

National statistics indicate that a crime is committed against a woman every three minutes, with 93 women being raped daily.

I felt it necessary, in spite of my own personal reservations, to highlight these issues after my experiences volunteering in Tamil Nadu, India, and further research thereafter. I came into contact with cases of domestic violence, sexual abuse, and overt gender inequality.

One of our cultural events was interrupted when our cook was felled to the ground by a blow from her husband, and the sound of physical fights from behind barred doors was not uncommon. Local villagers from further afield also retold accounts of sexual assault inflicted on children as young as eight, informing us that nearly half of the girls had experienced direct sexual abuse or failed attempts. Suffice to say that they feared for their safety.

Another woman told me about her daughter who had been married against her will at the age of 12; obliged to relinquish her dreams of an education and to face childbirth without having reached full maturity herself. Far from being an isolated incident, this fate befalls a large percentage of Indian women. Official estimates vary between 47% (UNICEF) and 30% (UN). There is, as of yet, no ubiquitous statute to protect girls, or boys for that matter, from the dangers of child marriage. The Prohibition of Child Marriage Act of 2006 remains ambiguous, applying only to non-Muslims of India and outside the states of Kashmir and Jammu.

I am fully aware of the criticism these statements might inspire, under such terms as ‘neo-colonialist’, ‘narrow-minded’, or ‘broad generalisation’. Indeed, I met with strong opposition from the Indian volunteers themselves, who read our resistance to abuse – mine and other UK volunteers – as an oversight on our part: a refusal to accept their culture and an attempt to impose a Western belief-system within an Eastern context.

Local villagers from further afield also retold accounts of sexual assault inflicted on children as young as eight, informing us that nearly half of the girls had experienced direct sexual abuse or failed attempts.

I accept this position and am not ignorant of similar criticisms common within post-colonial theory. I am, in particular, reminded of Leila Ahmed’s commentary on the wearing of the veil. Whilst a large majority of feminists opposed this practise in principle, Ahmed proposes that a clear division between males and females can empower women in the Arabian Peninsula; allowing them to voice what they might not otherwise have expressed.

I also understand that discrepancies between men and women in India may well be a question of tradition rather than oppression. One has only to think of the menstrual cycle, widely recognised as an impure phenomenon by the wider Hindu community. Women eat, wash and sleep outside for the duration of their cycle, regardless of the time of year. From a western standpoint this may appear as an infraction on their basic human rights. To the Hindus, however, this is an integral part of their individual identity, a personal choice, and in keeping with Hindu narrative tradition. Some issues, then, far from limiting women’s freedom, are a matter of individualism.

One must also bear in mind that certain aspects of gender inequality are just as prevalent in the UK as in India. A British man, for instance, is revered for his sexual exploits, whilst his female counterpart of a similarly epicurean character will be ostracized. The Madonna-whore complex still holds fast.

One must also bear in mind that certain aspects of gender inequality are just as prevalent in the UK as in India.

In other words, one has to be wary of the age old imperial standpoint. But I still find it difficult to consider western collaboration an entirely negative endeavour. There are ways of counteracting inequality without falling into the pitfalls of colonialism. Our ICS Raleigh projects in Kottadai, for example, consisted in self-help groups, and worked in partnership with incountry organisations such as MYRADA, MYKAPS, CORD and the ASHA women’s groups. There is a definitive problem with imposing a Western perspective, but promoting a safe space for women of one nation is another matter altogether. It is a question of replacing the intervention model with a collaborative alternative.

And yet, I wonder if it would not be better to do away with the terms ‘western’ and ‘eastern’ altogether. One wonders when female oppression will cease to be represented as a relative term dependent on cultural difference, and become considered an absolute offence that can and should be tackled on a global platform. I do not deny, indeed I strongly believe, that the people of India alone have the right to tackle those issues specific to their country. But I also believe that their current problems highlight similar ones in the West, and that the desire for equality moves beyond the binaries of culture and (dare I say it) nation.

There is always a means of showing solidarity. Such organisations as Girl Rising and Girl Up are showing signs of a more collaborative approach to Non-Governmental support. As for a more direct approach, one can always try to reassess our own forms of gender oppression right here in the UK.

Comments (1)

  • Hello,

    I’m sorry to be a pain, but as the author of the article I’ve realised there are 2 mistakes here which I would like to be corrected, if at all possible.

    Firstly, my name is Polly Galis, not Poppy Galis, and empirical should read imperial (I apologise for the typo!).

    I very much hope you will be able to correct the said errors,

    Yours sincerely,
    Polly Galis

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