Gender bender

Is every attack directed at a woman necessarily misogynistic?

So, what is misogyny? I only ask because someone who couldn't tell the difference between a dictionary and thesaurus tried to teach Sonam Kapoor the meaning of the word in a twitter exchange recently. And also because I suspect that most of us are a little bit hazy on the concept. We know it exists. We know it when we see it or feel it. But the boundaries between what is misogynistic and what is simply a gender-neutral insult seem to lie on constantly shifting sands, so it sometimes difficult to nail down what exactly is misogynistic and what is not.

First off, let's make one thing clear. Every attack on a woman is not misogynistic by default. For instance, if you pillory Indira Gandhi on the imposition of the Emergency and the human rights abuses that followed, you are not being misogynistic. You are criticising her in terms that would apply equally if she were a man. If, however, you laud her as 'the only man in her Cabinet' then you are effectively saying that a woman is only praiseworthy if she behaves and acts in a 'manly' manner, and that squarely hits the misogyny mark.

Let's take a more recent example from Indian politics. Smriti Irani, the union minister for human resources development, gets her fair share of criticism from the media. She is attacked for interfering in the running of independent institutions; she is blamed when certain worthies resign from important educational posts; she is accused of taking directions from the RSS when it comes to the running of her ministry. But whatever the merit of these charges, not one of them is inspired by misogyny. These are accusations that would be made even if Irani were a man.

Misogyny only rears its ugly head when sexist specimens like Sanjay Nirupam refer to her in disparaging terms in television discussions, sneering that “Kal tak toh tum paise key liye TV pey thumke laga rehi thi, aaj neta ban gayi…Pata hai tumhara character.” The sub-text is clear. Irani doesn’t deserve to be taken seriously because she was an actress who used to perform on television, a lightweight who is only good for lagaoing a few ‘thumkas’. How dare she presume that she can debate with serious politicians like Nirupam (huh?) on equal terms?

Women politicians have become so innured to this kind of sexual innuendo, of being objectified, that they probably don’t even take much notice of such things. After all, if you stopped and protested every misogynistic remark thrown at you, there would no time and energy left to deal with anything else. Not Irani though, she sued Nirupam for defamation; and more power to her.

But all women in the public eye have to deal with this stuff at one time or the other. Take, for instance, such female sports stars as Sania Mirza and Saina Nehwal who have notched up as many victories as they have controversies. But it is hardly misogynistic to criticise Nehwal for being a bit of sore loser when she pointed out that she had been ignored for the Padma awards while wrestler Sushil Kumar got one (though you could make the case that Nehwal was a victim of the inherent misogyny of the sports establishment that values male sports stars over the female ones). If a male sporting hero had cribbed publicly about being overlooked, he would have faced much the same sort of reaction. But when you start slamming Sania Mirza for the hemlines of her skirts when she plays tennis then your attack is aimed directly at her gender identity. You don't need a dictionary (or even, dare I say, a thesaurus) to brand this as misogynistic.

Were the attacks on Aishwarya Rai when she didn't lose her baby weight fast enough an example of misogyny? Some of us in the media certainly thought so, arguing that no leading man would be targeted for weight gain in quite the same manner. Perhaps. But those who maintained that the rules for film stars – of both genders – were different, also had a point (see what I mean about shifting sands?). Aamir Khan has had to cope with jibes when he appeared looked a few kilos heavier recently. So did Hrithik Roshan, who quickly stepped away from the carbs and hit the gym, so that he could release before-and-after pix to prove that he was back in shape.

So then, what qualifies as a misogynistic attack? And what doesn’t?

Well, first, there are the no-brainers. If you insult a woman using sexual innuendo, imagery or abuse (‘slut’, ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ or the newly-minted ‘presstitute’) then that is straight out misogynistic. If you bring in her gender in any way while criticizing her work, that is misogynistic. If you objectify her, or reduce her to a sum of her body parts, that is misogynistic.

But you simply cannot extend the use of the term ‘misogynistic’ to attacks that while directed at a woman do not arise from the fact of her being a woman. Deriding Sonia Gandhi for her Italian birth is racist but not misogynistic. But comparing her to ‘Monica Lewinsky’, as the late Pramod Mahajan did during an election campaign, hits the misogyny mark dead centre. It is important that we learn to tell the difference.

If we are going to battle misogyny we first need to identify it. Then can we recognize it when it hits us square in the face. And only then can we fight back.

Just say no

To the insane standards of ‘beauty’ that all women are expected to aspire to

By now, you've probably heard of the idiots at the Cannes Film Festival who refused to allow women who were not wearing heels on to the red carpet. And also, that the ladies who were turned away included a woman who had had part of her foot amputated. It beggars belief, doesn't it?

I would have thought that all those female actresses who take such pride in calling themselves 'actors' to strike a blow against sexism, would have been up in arms at this kind of sexist stupidity. But bar Emily Blunt, who said that the decision was 'very disappointing' (you don't say!) none of the women in attendance at the Festival seemed unduly perturbed. Of if they were, in fact, incensed, they did a marvellous job of hiding their outrage.

Instead, it was business as usual at the Festival, as the ladies, primped and polished to within an inch of their lives, paraded the red carpet in low necklines and high heels, teetering past the banks of cameras, precariously perched on five-inch stilettos.

How amazing would it have been if they had ditched the vertiginous shoes in solidarity with their flats-wearing sisters, and turned up instead in comfortable mules to do red carpet duty? I would have loved to see if the Heels Police at Cannes would dare turn away Cate Blanchett, Charlize Theron, Julianne Moore, or for that matter, Emily Blunt herself, if they were the ones in flats.

But no, even that small act of rebellion was denied us. Instead, all the actresses at Cannes slipped into their sky-high heels quite ignoring the fact that they would have stood much taller if they had opted for flats instead.

Frankly, I am disappointed. Not just with the lack of protest at Cannes but by the fact that women are still expected to adhere to societally-imposed norms of how they should and should not look. They must be groomed. They must be well-dressed. They mustn't look their age. They must dye their hair. They must be thin. They must wax all that unsightly bodily hair off. And, of course, they must wear high heels.

Who made up these rules, anyway? And why, way into the 21st century, are we adhering to these antiquated notions of how women must present themselves to the world? Why do we not rail against the notion that it behoves the female of the species to dress in a way that appeals to the male gaze? Why do we accept that we must suffer in order to be beautiful? Why should pain and discomfort be the price we pay for being admired?

I wish more women would ask these questions. And that they would at least try to look for some answers. But rather than do that, we fall into the Beauty Trap.

We book monthly wax appointments. And the body parts which must never be allowed to stay hairy increases every year. It started off with underarms, arms and legs. Then, backs and stomachs were insidiously coopted into the no-hair area.  And now even our erogenous zones must be completely hairless so that we look like pre-pubescent girls rather than grown women.

Even beautiful women are not exempt from the no-hair regulation. Remember the media storm when megastar Julia Roberts turned up at a film premiere in a sleeveless dress, and raised her arm to wave at her fans, allowing them to feast their eyes on her long, luxuriant, underarm hair. You would have thought she had murdered a cat given the violent reactions to that fleeting glimpse of hair.

Waxing is just the beginning of our extreme-maintenance regimes, though. In addition, we are expected to never go above a certain weight. Cue, extreme diets that exclude major food groups and a punishing exercise regime to get that trim stomach and taut butt. If we fall short, well then, we get Spanxed as punishment. And it is punishment, as anyone who has ever attempted to squeeze into that instrument of torture will attest.

If you attain a certain age, then the anti-ageing industry targets you with a vengeance, with its arsenal of anti-ageing creams, potions, lotions, serums, and what have you. God forbid that you get a single line on your face, be it laugh lines around your eyes of frown lines on your forehead. No, no, no. They must be erased by all means known to medicine, from laser treatments and glycolic peels to Botox and Restylene.

That's not counting the Fashion Nazis. You know, the ones you insist that you remain on-trend no matter what. You must move from jeggings to boyfriend jeans and back again. Saris only work with trendy blouses (if you don't want to look like a behenji). No open-toed sandals unless you've had a pedicure. And palazzo pants are out this season (for God's sake, you in that crummy T-shirt, do keep up!). And then, of course, there is the Heels Police, to treat you like a criminal if you choose to wear a comfortable pair of shoes instead of something that wouldn't look out of place in an S&M fantasy film.

Word to the wise. Do not feed this beast. When even someone as gorgeous as Aishwarya Rai can fall foul of its standards (especially when she is carrying a little baby weight), what chance do you and I have? Back away quietly and no one gets hurt.

Take my advice. Just say no. To all of the above. All you have to lose are your special creams, your stilettos and that annual subscription to that fashion glossy. In their stead, you will rediscover your self-esteem and self-respect. Now, that's a trade-off worth its price in fluffy slippers.

The Baby Belly

Why is it even considered worthy of comment?

Like much of the world, I allowed myself to get caught up in all that Royal Baby madness. So, along with millions of others, I was watching television to see Prince William and Catherine (no, she does not want to be called Kate), Duchess of Cambridge, emerge from the hospital, cradling their new-born son in their arms. The freshly-minted parents were beaming with pride and joy – as you do when you have just met your first born – and the mother looked absolutely radiant, glowing with good health and happiness, her hair professionally styled to its usual Middleton-swishiness.

Imagine my surprise then when the media decided to ignore her ear-to-ear smile, her sparkling eyes, and yes, that amazing blow-dry, to focus attention on what they called her ‘baby belly’, that discreet little bump around her waist where she had carried the Prince of Cambridge to term. Social forums like Netmums were delirious with delight that Catherine had chosen this moment to make a point for new mums everywhere: that this was what a post-birth body looked like, and there was no shame or embarrassment in showing it off. In those minutes, as she stood before the gates of Lindo Wing and showed off her baby son as well as her baby belly, she had made millions of women feel better about their own mummy tummys.

Well, if that’s what the Duchess intended to do, full marks to her. But frankly, what amazes – even angers – me is that this is a story at all. Why do we allow society to hardwire these unrealistic images of how a woman’s body should look into our brains, so much so that we are astonished and astounded when we see a new mother put her ‘real’ figure on display?

Here’s a news flash for all you body fascists out there. A woman’s body is not a rubber band (yes, really!). It doesn’t snap back into shape like elastic the moment she has pushed out an 8-pound person out of herself. The uterus take a couple of weeks to subside to its normal size, and the abdominal muscles that have been stretched over nine months, take time to settle down as well. So, it is completely natural for a woman who has given birth to still look, well, pregnant. Call it a baby belly or whatever the heck you want, but that is what every woman’s body looks like after she has squeezed out a brand-new human being out of her.

And yet, we never see these images of post-partum mums in the media, which would give women a realistic idea of what to expect when they are expecting (and after). Instead, we are inundated with pictures of celebrities like Victoria Beckam, who seems to emerge from the birthing suite wearing skinny jeans that show off her impossibly-tiny waist. Or even supermodels like Gisele Bundchen, who showed off her washboard abs in a bikini for a Vogue cover, a mere two months after giving birth. There’s nothing quite like seeing these amazing post-baby figures to make ‘normal’ new mothers feel awful about their bodies and themselves.

Small wonder then, that these days most famous women appear leery of exposing their real selves to the camera soon after giving birth, waiting a couple of months for the baby belly to disappear. And if they do have to make public appearances, they wear loose, flowing dresses so that nobody notices the mummy tummy below.

Even Catherine’s mother-in-law, Princess Diana, emerged from the hospital carrying William, while wearing a tent-like smock, beneath which it was impossible to ascertain her exact shape. So, I guess it was a brave choice for the Duchess to wear a custom-made Jenny Packham dress which was belted just below her bust, drawing attention to the post-baby bump below. And given how intensely she controls her own image, it wasn’t just a happy accident that the dress was designed to draw attention to her gently-swelling stomach.

But however comfortable Catherine may be about her baby belly, not everyone was willing to let the matter rest. The day after Catherine gave birth, the ever-enterprising folk at OK magazine put out a new Royal baby issue with the Duchess on the cover. The headline read “Kate’s post-baby weight loss regime” and went on to add, reassuringly, “She’s super-fit; her stomach will shrink right back”.

The sub-text was all too clear. Now that the sprog’s out, it’s time to hit the gym and regain that waist, Kate. There’s no excuse for looking pregnant even after you’ve given birth. So, get on the treadmill, woman, and don’t spare the crunches.

But, hearteningly, what was even clearer, was the backlash. Social media was abuzz with women (and some men, for good measure) pillorying OK for its cover. British television presenter, Katy Hill, spearheaded a Twitter campaign with the hashtag #dontbuyok, and even tweeted a picture of her own ‘baby belly’ for good measure. OK hastily backtracked and apologized profusely for its so-not-OK coverage.

For me, it brought back memories of all the flak Aishwarya Rai had to endure for her post-baby weight. And how different things could have been if we, in the Indian media, had also launched a campaign to force the bullies off her back. It would have been a lesson for new moms everywhere that it was more important to lose yourself in your new baby than lose that old baby weight.