Abstract
I
I have a strong feeling that my feminist commitment has been greatly influenced by my participation in various movements. While at school, I was a Girl Guide 1 ; started as an anti-British organisation, it had distinct nationalist overtones. When I was about 17 years old (1942), I was involved in the freedom struggle and courted jail for a brief period. Apart from the experience I gained in prison, a very important thing was my contact with the students’ movement and with the Socialist Party. Although I never became a member of any political party and I do not have the temperament of an active political worker, I did participate in various students’ welfare activities and camps and actively worked with some women’s organisations. I was particularly influenced by the activities of a woman worker who, by definition, can be described as a feminist; she had the fervour of a fighter and was among the first to establish a home for oppressed and deserted women. Contact with her and various young activists in the region working for both men and women, has made me consistently combine academic work with action. It is because of this encounter that I became actively involved in a unique experiment for the empowerment of rural women. The project is not the usual village-level social work, nor does it involve training students, but is very directly concerned with making women aware of their oppression and organises activities which will help them move towards empowerment. Thus, it is difficult for me to think of feminist activity which is restricted to discourse. For me it is a movement and therefore, although I might not have actively been part of any autonomous group of women, 2 I have always considered myself as their ally. I feel I am not wrong in believing that they think the same of me.
When I was doing my thesis on women, I had to study the nature of the women’s ‘movement’ of the 1930s and 1940s. This brought me closer to mainstream organisations and their leaders. They were liberals—committed, and struggling initially for demands, both big and small. However, as they belonged to middle- and upper-class educated urban sections, they concentrated more on the women of these classes. Further, they never went into the roots of inequality nor questioned the social system which had led to the plight of most women. With Independence, the Constitution gave women equal status, and many women leaders became part of the establishment. Consequently, women’s organisations lost their old dynamism and fervour for struggle.
A glimpse into my personal life will be very useful in providing the context to my evolution. Born in an upper-caste professional urban family, I was brought up in a supportive atmosphere. The first daughter in a family of four siblings, I was second in the order. The family was known for its hospitality and liberal values. My mother, who had completed only seven years of schooling, had been nourished in an educated environment. She was very dynamic and hospitable, encouraging the various talents of her children. In spite of the fact that my mother took part in several cultural and social activities as well as participated in the Non-cooperation Movement 3 led by Gandhi, she saw to it that she handled all the household chores with some assistance from her children. She was a leading spirit in our neighbourhood activities and organised programmes for the community which gave us the opportunity to take part in a wider social life.
My father, on the other hand, was more reticent, though he too got involved in political activities. Being a solicitor and the main earning member of the family, he had a lot of responsibilities to shoulder. He was a voracious reader and a collector of books and journals. He was also fond of discussing political as well as literary matters with family members. In this environment, I found many opportunities to discuss political events, social practices and controversial books. As ours was an open house, my father soon realised the burden which was falling on my mother. I think that this must be the reason why he supported many of my mother’s social activities. Further, having lost both parents at a very young age, elderly relatives took charge of him and made decisions for a number of years. This continued till he completed reading law. A couple of elders were very patriarchal and bossed over my mother. As my father was unable to oppose them, he compensated my mother by giving her the freedom to do whatever she liked in Bombay, away from the city where all his relatives lived. Thus, like many feminists, I too have warm memories of my father who encouraged me to develop and also provided a core of values which influence me even today.
In short, the atmosphere was a complex mixture of certain traditional values and practices while generating overall freedom of movement and expression. My father attached tremendous significance to an education in which there was no gender discrimination. He also saw education as a status-producing activity. Unfortunately, my elder brother could not shine in an academic career, so my father placed all his hopes on me, encouraging my education and social activities.
I have benefited a lot from my school environment. It was one of the few politically and culturally nationalistic schools which provided various opportunities for academic advance and wider exposure. My love for literature, participation in social and political activities and an aesthetic appreciation were all imbibed through the school. It was a co-educational school where friendships were built across sex divisions and drew no opposition or criticism. College was a different experience. As soon as I joined, I got deeply involved in the Quit India Movement of 1942, 4 where political activities overshadowed academic achievements. It was also the period of adolescence with all the pleasant and unpleasant experiences of friendships made and lost.
II
I met my husband when I was in the last year of college. 5 He was nearly 10 years older than me, had a very rich political, social and intellectual life, and was quite well known in political circles as an avowed Trotskyite. I met him at a Leftist study circle of which I was a member. By chance, we belonged to the same social group, and his family was quite well respected in the community, hence there was no opposition to my decision to marry him. My husband’s father was a very well-known literary figure in the region; he was also a very gentle, affectionate person, a little reserved but basically family-oriented. My husband had lost his mother when he was barely 11 years old. He had one younger sister to whom he was extremely devoted throughout his life. My in-laws were very different from my own family. It was an extended family with various relatives belonging to at least four generations. My mother-in-law having died at a very young age, and my sister-in-law being too young, my husband’s grandmother was the decision-making authority. Although my father-in-law was liberal in his values, he had to respect the wishes and customs of his parents. This included the observance of social distance between the daughter-in-law (myself) and other relations.
That differences between one’s natal family and the family by marriage can lead to tremendous adjustment problems is a fact which I can bear witness to through my own experiences. Parental warmth and the freedom of one’s natal home are immediately restricted when s/he enters the conjugal family. Not only do cultural differences abound but different standards are observed with regard to the behaviour of female relatives in the conjugal family, especially the daughter-in-law. For a sensitive person, this experience can lead to a lot of tension and many adjustment problems. Through constant discussions with my husband and other friends, it was possible for me to understand and accept these. After some time, I evolved my own strategies of self-expression and also built up warm relationships, particularly with my sister-in-law.
I married when I was 21 years old. We were married for about five decades. My husband was an avowed Marxist and a great believer in the strength of the masses. In his student days he was greatly involved with the student, peasant and trade union movements. Until the day he died, he was very happy when he was with grassroots-level activists who were involved in struggles against exploiters. At the time of his death, he was single-handedly preparing material in Gujarati which could be used by such activists. His doctoral work on Indian nationalism has been acclaimed by academics, irrespective of their political inclinations. Personality-wise, both of us were different: he was more expressive, articulate, warm and very encouraging to youngsters. I am more reserved, not a crusader, and can be myself with only a few persons. In spite of this difference in our temperaments, we were able to live a happy, meaningful and satisfying life of companionship. Perhaps this was also because neither of us was ambitious or covetous of high positions.
Ideologically and emotionally, my husband was supportive of feminism. His empathy for the sufferings of all downtrodden people including women had won for him an acceptance in the women’s movement. One significant feature in my husband’s life was that although he was very firm in his Marxist approach, academics of many hues have always respected him. They may not all agree with him but they were aware of his scholarship and commitment. As the wife of a sociologist who had a standing in the profession, I benefited because whenever I brought the women’s issue up in sociological seminars or conferences, I was heard and not ignored. Of course, this was during the initial period; later the community of sociologists came to recognise my credentials as well, and I could talk about women’s issues without any hesitation or embarrassment.
We avoided having a child for nearly 10 years because we were not yet settled in life and I had to finish my PhD. My son was born when I was 32 years old, in 1957. He changed our life substantially because he strengthened our emotional bonds. Being the only child he had a pampered and protected upbringing. There was a marked change in his interests when he started reading law. He became more serious, started working for the poor and decided to live on his own. This, in the Indian context, can be a bit of a culture shock. Today, he is greatly involved in his profession, working for the poor through public litigation; he is also a member of a Trotskyite group, and lives with a friend, a computer scientist, who is herself a feminist activist. My son calls himself a feminist and also fights cases on behalf of women. He is not very articulate about his feelings nor is he very sociable. All three of us had worked out a peculiar understanding; we lived our own lives, but there was a strong emotional bond, each respecting the activities of the other.
III
My evolution as a feminist is not very sensational nor unusual. It depicts how familial socialisation, particularly growing up in a middle-class urban educated family, can provide the opportunity for participation in various roles, if one is so inclined. There was a congruence of various factors, such as participation in wider movements, graduating with a sociology degree when it was under the tremendous influence of the American structural functional approach, and, finally, working in a women’s university which was known more for its stance on social reform rather than for academic excellence.
In my case, the role of the institution where I worked has been crucial in providing me the opportunity to pursue studies on women and in making me a visible protagonist of women’s studies (WS). The first generation of WS scholars had an important contribution in the transformation of women’s studies from an additive and compensatory area of study to one with a gender perspective. Of course, while transforming the stance and perspective of WS, some of us have ourselves been considerably transformed. An accidental decision to do my postgraduate degree through a dissertation changed the entire contour of my life. The theme of my study was ‘Impact of British Rule on the Position of Indian Women’. Since 1947, when I started working on the theme, there has been no going back. I have continued to remain in WS for four decades; of course my own understanding of the issues has been enriched by the availability of more data and new exposures. In a newly emerging independent civil society, interrogations of the social sciences or social issues had hardly begun. Where organisational structures suffered from rigidity and hierarchical norms, the process of transformation of an individual into one challenging entire premises was not likely to be sudden nor dramatic, unless there was a powerful all-pervading social movement. Consciousness builds up slowly, at times imperceptibly. Thus, my story is that of an individual who, with others, initiated action not with any intention of bringing about far-reaching consequences, but rather because the cause was dear to us.
I consider myself to be privileged because I have been a part of this process of the movement for the feminisation of an area of study; consequently, along with questioning the premises of subordination and the conventional method of study, I have constantly questioned myself about my own credentials. Where do I belong? Whom am I answerable to? In a society where problems of poor women, nay, of all women, are formidable in terms of survival, domestic violence and the ideological facade built in the name of shakti (woman power), it is difficult to remain in an isolated ivory tower of intellectual pursuits.
The need for action and intervention is paramount and constantly bothers the mind. For a person who has been nourished in the phase of struggle for liberation from colonial rule, it is difficult to remain away from action. Thus the dilemma of tight-rope walking between academic pursuits and active participation in transforming the iniquitous social structure continues.
I joined SNDT Women’s University 6 in Bombay in 1954. Till about 1980, it was the only women’s university in the country. I taught there for three decades. As mentioned earlier, it was a low-profile institution up to the late 1950s. Started in 1916 by a social reformer eager to take higher education to girls who were not allowed to attend co-educational institutions, it was run on its own resources till it got government recognition in 1951. The striking features of this University, besides being open only to women, were teaching through the regional language, and offering the opportunity to study privately. Both these were introduced keeping in view the social constraints which women faced in terms of restricted mobility and familial responsibilities. Subsequently, many universities introduced these features in their own institutions. Surprisingly, this special concern for the needs of women gave the institution a secondary status in the university system. Teaching in a university which catered to lower-middle-class and intermediate caste girl students studying in Arts courses because they felt a degree would help them get better husbands—and may come handy in times of economic crisis—posed a very limited intellectual challenge.
Of course, this was the ethos till the early 1960s. The courses in home economics, teacher training, nursing and library science were popular and attracted many students. The scenario changed substantially in the 1970s as more and more students wishing to study with careers in mind joined; better opportunities for outside exposure were available to the faculty. With more funding coming from the University Grants Commission (UGC) and outside agencies for developing innovative programmes and taking on newer challenges, the image of the University was slowly changing. In this process, the role of university personnel who were committed, enthusiastic and open to innovations cannot be underestimated. They realised that now was the time to experiment with new programmes which could help transform the image of a ‘mediocre’ institution.
In my evolution as a feminist, the role of this University has been crucial. Although there were not many intellectual challenges posed by the faculty or the students, if a person was committed enough to bring significant changes in the curriculum or research areas and the teacher had acceptance in the University as well as the academic community, there was no obstacle to experimentation. After the mid-1960s, for nearly two decades, I got the opportunity and I feel that without this appropriate environment, my career would have been very different. What I really wish to emphasise is that institutions can help or harm an individual. Basically, conventional institutions are usually not appreciative of radical programmes. In my case, it was possible to bring about change because of favourable factors. We had a team of four or five persons in the University who were ready to take up new programmes; though, ideologically, apart from myself, there was no one who could be described as a feminist. The programmes, while radical in content with implications for transforming the ethos of the institution, added additional dimensions to the University’s programmes. After the 1980s, the impetus of the women’s movement forced various institutions to take up the cause of women. Before I describe the circumstances which led to the emergence of the first women’s studies centre in India, a brief mention of my own involvement in various programmes between 1966 and 1974 will help in understanding the significance of such a radical step in the university system.
IV
One such programme, that of life-long education, was organised to involve the community in academic activities as well as to raise awareness on problems related to changing family life, adolescents preparing for the ‘empty nest’, and others. SNDT took up the challenge of organising three-week programmes of lectures and visits for American teachers, introducing them to Indian society and culture. The University participated in the UGC programme of inviting scholars in sociology as National Lecturers, thereby involving itself more actively with the scholarly community. During the celebrations of its golden and diamond jubilees, activities around the challenges before women’s education and women’s status were also organised. One of the most significant events was the Round Table on the relevance of a women’s university in the 1970s. During the discussion, many directions were suggested for the future thrust of the University, but the chief focus appeared to be research on women. I was a part of all these activities, from their conceptualisation to implementation. In this process my own understanding got sharpened. Thus, on the one hand, I was getting involved in the building up of a systematic identification of women’s issues, on the other, I got the opportunity to participate in the restructuring of sociology courses both at the undergraduate and post-graduate levels. Being a visible member of a women’s university, I was accepted by the other sociologists and policy-makers, but more as a person concerned with women’s status and role rather than for my scholarship in other ‘hard’ areas!
During this period—way back in the 1960s—I was writing and researching on various aspects of women’s lives, framing courses on the ‘sociology of women’, speaking on women’s issues in debates and discussions, particularly in regional languages. These activities slowly helped me organise my thoughts with regard to the position of women. However, I consider my involvement with the Committee on the Status of Women in India (CSWI), appointed in 1972 to review the condition of Indian women, a crucial landmark in my development. I was a member of the Task Force on the Social Status of Women which examined problems arising out of social structure and social practices. In the various meetings we held, there was a considerable amount of discussion on the subordinate position of women, their depiction in the media, role of the kinship system, and so on. The report of the Committee entitled Towards Equality was ready in December 1974. Alarmed at its findings, a premier institution for funding and sponsoring research, the Indian Council of Social Science Research, decided to promote studies on women, especially of the poorer sections. I treasure this experience as it made me more conscious of the sufferings of women from all sections of society. The process of becoming aware of the stark reality of women in terms of employment, education, political participation and health made all of us search within ourselves for the reason why we had been blind to the situation.
It was in this context that we, at SNDT University, launched the Women’s Studies Centre in July 1974. For nearly a decade, it was known as the Research Unit on Women’s Studies. It was the first such centre in the country. Nobody had a clear idea what we were in for when we started it. A set of factors led to its establishment and growth; perhaps the most significant was the declaration of the Women’s Decade by the UN. We had no precedents in the country, there was not much funding available, and, in the beginning, there was no direct opposition as the programme was not initiated in an ‘elite’ institution, and it was not viewed as a threat. Its activities, further, were not sharply feminist; the studies conducted were more in the nature of understanding women’s problems more critically, and were not necessarily feminist in perspective. The term ‘feminist’ was not only not popular, but also there was a distinct ‘allergy’ to it and many women, particularly academics, described themselves as WS researchers rather than feminist scholars. According to Maithreyi Krishnaraj, many women leaders, after very sharp articulations on the oppression of women, would suddenly aver, ‘I am not a feminist’ or ‘we are not anti-men’.
On looking back, I feel that SNDT got considerable visibility because of the WS Centre. The University was actually put on the national as well as international maps. It had a number of visitors from abroad; funding agencies were ready to support both academic and action research; the first conference of the Indian Association of Women’s Studies was not only held in its precincts, but the University took an active part in its organisation. The government invited the authorities and the faculty to be members of their various committees and commissions. The UGC too recognised the leadership role of the WS Centre.
Of course, for a long time, up to 1981, we at the Centre felt very isolated. My colleagues and I had continuous discussions as to why we were not able to make a significant breakthrough as far as the apathy of colleagues in other departments was concerned. There was a joke in our group that we were known more outside the University and in the international fraternity than in the small world of our institution. Of course, after 1984, when the UGC declared its policy to support WS activities, the departments slowly became vibrant with references to women’s issues in their respective disciplines. After this, the story is of mainstreaming women’s studies in the university system.
V
I go back in time now. I began to seriously develop a feminist perspective in the late 1970s when women’s groups began to talk and struggle on issues of custodial rape, dowry, domestic violence, population problems and the portrayal of women in the media. When I look back, I realise that my feminism did not crystallise merely because I was an active part of the WS Centre; participation in the CSWI, the growing women’s movement, emergence of autonomous groups in the late 1970s, and my involvement in WS made me critically examine whatever I was working on. In this process of self-questioning I believe that the opportunities I got to participate in some international workshops and seminars exposed me to serious analyses of the issue of the subordination of women. Between 1977 and 1980 I participated in three significant conferences abroad: in 1977 I was part of the group invited to the USA for the Houston meeting of the Equal Rights Amendment; in 1978 I participated in the seminar on Subordination of Women organised at the Institute of Development Studies, Sussex, and in 1980 I attended a workshop on Research and Action organised at The Hague. These international exposures brought me very close to debates among Western feminists and the problems which women in the Third World are facing. I quite often felt that feminists outside India were more theoretically oriented; they too were fighting for the cause, but their struggles were more for individual identity and establishing gender equality in the family and the outside world. There was not as yet that vital contact with poor women and working among the underprivileged which is inevitable for feminists in the South. My own experience of grassroots work in a rural development project from the 1980s, constant interaction with activists in India and my position in the WS movement have contributed significantly to my feminism. I became more aware of issues such as estimation of house work, right to abortion as an expression of freedom, free choice in choosing a sexual partner, capitalist mode of production and subordination of women, objectification of women through the sex trade, the relationship between action and research and many others.
Along with these experiences my own participation in researches at the national level further sharpened my understanding. When I became a part of the research on women in the unorganised sector, frequent meetings to share findings and discuss methodology made me more conscious of the ways in which vulnerable poor women had very little bargaining power. Later, I was a researcher in a project on ‘Women’s Work and Family Strategies’, sponsored by United Nations University. Soon, I started questioning the term ‘strategy’: The term appeared dispassionate and contrived to me when applied to decision-making in the family and in the life of a woman. In reality, there is often less ‘strategy’ and more support within the family for women.
My study in this larger project was of a rural area where I got very able and sensitive collaboration from an activist who has been working among tribals. What touched us most was the resistance and matter-of-fact assessment of the situation by poor tribal women. In spite of their exploitation, both at the workplace and in the home, the remarkable way in which they coped with their situation without self-pity or escapism, has been a very important pay-off of the study. In a way, it has helped me to understand the dichotomy of Indian women’s supposed servility and their inner strength.
Today, I am searching for new meaning to my existence. Having retired from the University and having also witnessed the various ups and downs in the women’s movement, I feel isolated at times. The formative periods of challenge, commitment and zeal have been replaced by struggle for power and authority. In official circles, and in right-wing parties, there is apparently a concern for women’s issues. In fact, both government and political parties are appropriating the language and the symbols of the women’s movement. There seems to be a backlash in the movement as macro forces are posing serious challenges. In India, the policy of restructuring based on the principle of the market as the centre is posing serious challenges to women, particularly poor women. The earlier fervour of taking up issues and lobbying for them seems to be waning. The visibility of the women’s movement is very low. In a recent discussion and evaluation of two decades of the women’s movement, this anxiety was articulated, particularly in the context of growing fundamentalism and communal ideologies.
The hope lies with the younger generation—some of whom have come to the movement through wider exposure and are not ready to compromise in their personal or public life. I feel privileged that these young friends accept me as one of them. I value their faith and that gives me the courage to face the apathy and silence which is enveloping the women’s movement. Quite often I have felt that a backlash is growing, indicating a threat to women’s awareness of their identity. The danger lies in not recognising resistance to the movement. As a feminist sociologist, however, I have no regrets. On the contrary, I feel a sense of joy that I have been part of the process which questions, and changes, the subordination of women.