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Response to The Guardian’s article ‘Why is India so bad for women?’

July 31, 2012 in Uncategorized

By Aisha Zakira

 

Let’s review. Helen Pidd, a Guardian journalist and white British woman, writes an article entitled ‘Why is India so bad for women?’ Aside from not answering her own question, and failing to discuss the link between India’s democratic politics and societal attitudes towards women (as the byline claims it will) she presents an article that revives a tired argument in which all Indian men are figured as senseless abusers, and all Indian women are hapless victims.

 

Rather than critiquing a culture which accepts gender-based violence, Ms. Pidd demonizes Indian men (“91 years after Gandhi urged Indian men to treat their women with respect, the lesson has yet to be learned.”) Ms. Pidd moves swiftly from discussing cases of violence against women to making sweeping assertions about the character and morality of (presumably, all) Indian men. In doing so, she implies that Indian men are Neanderthal-like creatures who walk around compelled to carry out some rudimentary biological imperative. These narrowing characterizations of Indian men, besides being untrue of ‘all Indian men’ are insulting to the mental, emotional and intellectual capacities of Indian men. They also absolve a significant portion of our society of a responsibility towards ending gender-based violence. Indeed, if all Indian men are either harasser or bystander, there is little reason for more Indian men to take up what I believe is a collective responsibility to dismantle a culture which condones gender-based violence.

 

Moreover, if the culprit of gender-based violence was as simple an answer as ‘all Indian men,’ those of us who work to reform Indian society in ending gender-based violence could occupy our time with the sole task of (re)educating all Indian men. I imagine that those who work to end gender-based violence in India and across the world would have a significantly easier time of this. But we are not struggling against a distinct oppressor; rather we are working to dismantle a deeply held set of beliefs and values held by men and often by women as well. The work of reforming a society is far more difficult than of (re)educating a portion of the population because beliefs, values and assumptions are nebulous and harder to pin down. Ms. Pidd’s article is an insult to the tireless work of people across India who are working for change.

 

Shockingly, there is no mention of the writer’s perspective, and the politics of a white British woman commenting on the men of a country that Britain ruled by force less than 70 years ago. In failing to mention her own perspective, Ms. Pidd adopts a holier-than-thou attitude, pointing fingers and inevitably raising ire rather than drawing attention to an issue. At one point, she writes about ‘the story that outraged most Indian women last week,’ as though she is an authority on the issue, cloaking Indian women in yet another generalization rather than working to depict the complex realities of Indian society.

 

Stylistically, the article does not answer the question set forth in the title. Rather than calling this article ‘Why is India so bad for women?’ I would suggest The Guardian re-title the article ‘India is bad for women: a copy and paste.’ The article reads as a summary of several survey results and comments from other journalists which support Ms. Pidd’s tired argument that India is bad for women. I believe there is no excuse for streets to be unsafe for Indian women, but to present several facts in an alarmist, generalization-heavy tone does not help anything. I am surprised that The Guardian chose to run this article on its front page, because variations of this tired argument has been seen by out of touch, ignorant writers discussing Third World women countless times before.

 

I did not know it was possible to be outraged and bored at the same time, but here I am.

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A 10 Year Old Brought to Political Consciousness: Bob Marley’s I Shot the Sheriff

July 6, 2012 in Black history, identity, police brutality, racism

Earlier this week, Ela Eke-Egele’s excellent analysis of Jaja Soze ‘Beautiful Sister’ showed how the supposedly politically progressive social commentary is, in fact, something quite reactionary, giving us a cliched representation of women as Madonna or whore.  The following blog seeks to analyse how socially conscious music does not need to be at the expense of women and black women in particular.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVcFg-aOAdU]

Since becoming a woman I have learnt many disappointing things about the legend that was Bob Marley. The reality that he was a notorious philanderer was a let down to say the least. I had spent my childhood admiring the fact that here was a man that loved his wife so much that he had penned amazing songs like Is This Love and No Woman No Cry. Sadly, they were for and about his Miss World mistress and at the time he had fathered numerous children who are now denied access to his substantial estate.

All said and done though, there is something that happens to me when I hear a Bob Marley song that feels like coming home.  It is the sound, along with Abba funnily enough, that would be around during the weekends, public holidays and general moments of relaxation.

There are way too many ‘favourite’ Bob Marley songs I could name, it is hard, very hard, to say one stands out amongst the rest because, for me, his songs are all about what is right for a particular mood. That said, as a young black girl growing up in 1980s and 90s England, I Shot the Sheriff was something that stirred a sense of political consciousness. The tale of Sheriff John Brown’s racist hounding of a young black man, who, I just assumed, was Marley himself, was something I could identify with. Aged 10, the song spoke to me about the structures of power that are in place globally and which run along colour lines.

So, when in 1991 the brutal police beating of Rodney King and the subsequent acquittal of the LAPD officers filmed violently battering him came to the world’s attention, my prepubescent self felt as though I had already been made wiser by Marley. The shocked news reporting would try to tell me that this was something out of the ordinary, however, Marley’s song had already made me sensible to the fact that such incidents were part of the everyday for black peoples across the world.

As a young girl it seemed odd that a song would begin with such a proud declaration of a violent act, ‘I shot the sheriff’ yet follow with what seemed to me to be an irrelevant denial, ‘but I didn’t shoot the deputy’. He had murdered a man no? What difference did it make if he was being blamed for the death of another? Why was he not more fearful of claiming the murder of the sheriff who clearly had more power? Why did he declare that ‘If I am guilty I will pay’ as though he had not just admitted it a few lines before? As stories go, this is as captivating as it gets.  My 10 year old self wanted to listen further, to understand why the distinction between the two acts was being made.

I found myself rocking to the relaxed yet insistent syncopation of the reggae beat, eager to find out how this all began. Hearing the young man in the song talk of the Sheriff’s inexplicable hate, I felt an uneasy closeness to the experience. The Sheriff’s desire to ensure that nothing good would ever come to our anti-hero because every seed he’d planted would be killed before they grew was Marley, along with my parents, tutoring me on the ways in which racism works. The wish and power to crush, from the very beginning, any sense of hope in the young black person’s mind was something I may not have been able to put into words, but nevertheless I understood it. I understood it the way you know that rain is coming on a particular type of cloudy day; it is something your senses have grown so accustomed to that the knowledge is almost before sense.

I wasn’t surprised then that when ‘freedom came [his] way’, the Sheriff was ‘aiming to shoot’ him down. At the moment the line still echoes with the experiences of black boys and girls in our urban centres. In the 80s, many would have immediately thought of the ‘suspected persons’ laws that meant police would hound those with black or brown skin. As I listened to the song again, I was reminded of an article I read a few weeks ago,which reveals that in 2011, the New York Police Department made more stops of young black men than the total number of young black men in New York! And here in lies the beauty of this song; whenever I listen to it, I am reminded of the urgency and relevance of its message.

The anguish with which Marley tells us that, in self-defence, he shoots the sheriff, is something that was frightening at the age of 10. The danger of what Marley was proposing was clear. Would this be something I would do faced with the same scenario? In my late teenage years and older, I came to understand it as the necessary defence against the power of racism in my life. In order to become more myself, to not allow racism to diminish my potential, I needed to accept that it required me to act, to ‘shoot’ it down. However difficult it would be, however much it would compromise my position in front of wider society, it was something I would have to do. There are many songs I would bestow onto my children as a guide; I Shot the Sheriff is definitely one of them. At the level of a simple narrative, it is transfixing. Yet, its deeper meaning and message is something much more fruitful. It is the affirmation of an individual’s right to exist beyond the parameters set by the powers that be. For that reason it is a life defining record.

- Lola Okolosie

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Beautiful Sister: Jaja Soze, Why the Hate?

July 4, 2012 in black women, Hip Hop, media representation of black women, sexism

Music is a wonderful thing. It’s a means of integrating disparate groups and seems to come with it’s own culture, one that is blind to race due to a shared appreciation of talent. But one thing it cannot seem to look past is gender. Black artists often portray women as nothing more then interchangeable vaginas who exist solely to service their sexual needs and most audiences are now inured.

Jaja Soze (given name Elijah Kerr) is one who attempts to add colour to his music by interlacing it with themes of sexual exploitation and misogyny. He is a Muslim and a throwback 1960′s civil rights activist as well as a multi-faceted artist and his music reveals that his life has not been an easy one. He was raised in south London by his mother who by his account worked ‘day and night.’ He founded the notorious PDC street gang as a teenager in the 1980′s but a decade later gave it up to launch PDC Entertainments. The gang was known for it’s violence and drug dealing and Jaja has served time in prison. It would seem that growing up, most if not all his close allies were male and it is likely that a lot of his opinions about women were formed within this macho context. Also considering his mother’s minimal presence in the home it is not surprising that he developed no real appreciation for women.

If he had stopped with a few derogatory lines in some of his songs he probably would have remained under the feminist radar but he’s actually dedicated a whole track to his opinions. Ironically it’s called ‘Beautiful Sister’. Inadvertently, one of the most misogynistic songs I have encountered and definitely one with great potential for damage.

The scenes in the video for ‘Beautiful Sister’ flick between Jaja with a demure black women reading on a park bench and another black woman in heavy make-up and a blond wig. The woman in the wig sits preening in the mirror. It is this type of woman we come to understand, that is the object of his dissent. For clarity, I will refer to her as the ‘bad sister.’ His rap is a cappella, so one is forced to pay full attention to his words:

 Dear sister, right now you’re looking confused.

You got your priorities wrong plus you’re fucking a bag of dudes

All you seem to care about is handbag and shoes

Make-up, weave, gossip and hood news

Sleeping around and complaining when the baby come

You should have thought of that when you got filled up with cum

Deep down inside your heart you’re amazing

Misguided by boobs, bum and ravin’

Come on, you’re a future mum

Plus the wannabe fug (thug) you’re with is an Uncle Tom

You deserve much more, furthermore you’re a queen

But how you are right now, you look like a fien’

Cos I can smell you from here

And it don’t smell clean

I’ll probably run away if I saw you in a wet dream

skin looks bad and your high heels look lea

That Mary Claire ain’t working

Try some Cocoa butter cream

Dear Sister without you, men ain’t shit

But we need you educated for the sake of the kids

You’re a mum, wife, lover

A mans heartbeat

If you’re lost, how can you expect your man not to cheat

I’m not saying it’s just a black thing

White women are lost too

And even though we have big problems

They have problems too

I mean look at all the role models

For the female generation

All they seem to talk about is arse and pussy penetration

We got artists like Nneka

But they show us Niki Minaj

I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,

But look at the scars

Instead of caring for their kids

They’re having sex in cars

While their baby daddy is locked up banging the bars

Dear sister, believe me I ain’t try to dis ya

Our culture needs you back, believe we miss ya

But the devil’s in your ears with that evil whisper

Take my word for it, we need you

My beautiful sister.

Two black female vocalists (Gigi Daai & Jareth) follow. They present the ‘female’ perspective in an apologetic, plaintive aria and appeal to the sisters to change their negative ways. The video winds to a close with the redemption of the bad sister. Her blond wig is off, revealing short natural hair. Her strapless dress has been replaced with a strapped one and the garish make-up is gone. She stands on display for all to see, posing modestly, a true ‘Beautiful Sister.’

Well, there you have it. The solution to all the social ills that ail the black race. I will now respond as a ‘sister’ who is keen to set the ‘record’ straight.

Jaja feels he has the required intellect and experience to determine what is ‘wrong’ with black women today but It’s self-evident that he has neither. He also feels that he has the right to ask us to change and that’s plain arrogance.

The society that Jaja advocates is one where women rarely have sex, stop raving, get educated for the children’s sake and accept sole responsibility for their welfare. And better yet, the responsibility for creating this ideal lies squarely with us women. In his view, he and his compadres are not culpable even though they are actually the ‘bag of dudes’ these sisters are allegedly sleeping with.  Moreover, the standard he expects us to meet is not one of personal achievement or success where children and/or heterosexual relationships do not feature, but one that is self-sacrificial and suspiciously docile.

We are also expected to remain celibate while our ‘baby daddies’ are banged up. This conveniently bypasses the issue of why so many black men are in jail in the first place. Worryingly, Jaja uses the term “Uncle Tom” in this and several of his other tracks, so rather than encouraging young black men to respect authority and adopt a less controversial way of life he negatively brands those that do without providing a viable option.

I find it interesting that there is no suggestion that black men will provide financially for these women (and their gangsta sons) neither does Jaja offer assistance in raising the children. There’s not even an assurance of long-term commitment. All we are offered is a vague possibility that our men will stop cheating. Mmm, cost benefits don’t add up I’m afraid, Jaja.

Again, he smoothly glosses over another issue facing the black community – absent fathers. Figures from the Office for National Statistics (ONS) show that 48% of lone parent families are Afro-Caribbean and that nationally nine out of every ten lone parents are women. In 2007, Tony Sewell, a black journalist, suggested in his Daily Mail article “Scandal of the absent fathers” that because the Afro-Caribbean community has a higher level of absent fathers than any other group many young black men lacking a father figure and male role models turn to drugs and violence.  His views are backed up by several psychological studies and here we have Jaja as a classic example.

In short, the societal model that Jaja proposes is neither equitable nor reasonable. It promotes an irresponsible lifestyle while ignoring the real issues and ultimately only serves to benefit his gender’s ego. Considering the current state of affairs, in reality it is self-destructive.

Also observe Jaja’s gutter-level language. Only a true misogynist would make a point of including women of another race into a rant about his own. It is only through a close relationship with pornography that one feels comfortable with using phrases such as “when you got filled up with cum.” or come to the conclusion that “ All the role models for the female generation … seem to talk about is arse and pussy penetration.”  Blatantly, he neither knows nor cares for us.

Jaja’s rhymes and catchy tunes make an effective channel for delivering this demeaning and oversimplified content to young black minds. He is doing more than just buffering existing stereotypes he is also fuelling resentment and disrespect for women. For black women it is divisive as it categorizes us into either good or bad. It demands that we limit our potential and follow a particular code of conduct in order to be accepted.  It alienates rather than inspires. It is downright rude. He might believe he is empowering women but India Arie he is not. In fact, ideas like this make us a target for both physical and sexual abuse, recipients of frustrations and anger.

In a sense, Jaja’s worldview is a symptom of the many socio-economic issues that lurk below but it does not excuse it. Jaja sees himself as an educated man on a mission albeit a “a self-educated” one but it’s time he got re-educated. It’s obvious that there are certain things that you cannot teach yourself and he needs to recognize this for the sake of the community. As they say, ignorance is not bliss, it is dangerous.

-Ela Eke-Egele

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Bride Price: The Acholi

July 1, 2012 in beauty and race, Black history, black women, Uncategorized

The life and traditions of the Acholi people was disrupted by the two decade-long civil war. Their tradition Nyom (marriage) in Acholi is a lengthy process, which begins with a boy seeing a girl and starting to court her. She is typically expected to be coy and hard to get in order to protect her morally upright reputation. The boy eventually wins the girl’s consent. He goes to her father and pays a small installment of bride price [otongo keny] after which the pair is considered engaged. This may last for a longtime depending on the final completion of bride price payment after which the bride’s status changes from girl [nyako] and becomes a house wife [dako ot].

The girl always looks out for the boy who owns plenty of cattle. However, a boy chiefly depends upon his lineage to get both the permission to marry a girl and the ability to provide the material goods required to pay her bride price. After the visit, the boy satisfied with what he saw, tells his family, who subsequently find out about the young lady’s clan and family’s status socially. Acholi bride price is traditionally settled in cows, sheep, goats, spears and hoes.  Bride price is of no obvious benefit to the woman rather to her family. At the time of negotiation she is an object of trade between her buying husband and her selling family.

Marriage traditions have also undergone transformation due to modernity and education. Parents and clan elders now rarely have anything to do with choosing a partner for their children. The war in northern Uganda began in 1986 and was marked by the Lord’s Resistance Army’s well documented brutality against civilians, including the seizure of children to be used as fighters and the widespread use of mutilation, cutting off the lips, ears, noses and limbs of victims. The violence led to nearly two million people being displaced from their homes and being forced to live in refugee camps. At the same time the Ugandan army was repressing people and their were allegations of land stealing which have not been resolved. In 2008,the government of Uganda and the LRA rebel group announced they had reached agreement on a system of war crimes trials and other methods of accountability for atrocities committed during the country’s long-running civil war. Both sides hailed the agreement as a significant breakthrough that removed a major obstacle to a final end to the conflict.

In the past parents tended to marry their children as early as possible as a way out of poverty but the bride price for a girl also comes in handy as a support to the rest of the family. If married early, the girl is likely not to be educated, but destined for producing children and work. She has inherited her mother’s life. When the boy’s family agrees, he is given a green light to marry the girl. He informs her and she in turn, announces to her parents that special visitors will be arriving on a given day to conduct the marriage ceremony. The girl’s mother then informs the girl’s entire family. In preparation for the visitors, the structures in the girl’s homestead receive a new layer of mud mixed with cow dung.  On the agreed day, the boy, his father, brothers and other family members go to the girl’s home and are welcomed into the house of her mother. The visitors are not allowed to stand, but kneel throughout the introductions, with the girl’s father asking the questions. He asks the visitors who they are and the boy’s father responds appropriately. The girl is asked to ascertain she knows them.

Often, the girl’s bride price is not spent but saved to offset her brothers’ bride price’s when it is their turn to marry and pay. Bride Price refunds are made in the event of a divorce, although the value refunded depends on the terms agreed upon when the dowry is paid. Traditionally the parents of the boy have to pay five heads of cattle, six goats, and household goods right from the needle to the clothes of the parents.

Acholi women enjoy great freedom to divorce once not satisfied with their husbands but on condition that the new husband pays the bride price that her earlier husband had paid. Fornication and adultery are punished in the Acholi tradition. It costs 5 sheep for fornication and 15 for adultery.

Samantha Asumandu

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