BLANK NOISE DELHI. MARCH 8. I NEVER ASK FOR IT

photo documentation: Abhishek Baxi and Jasmeen Patheja
They ran around-
Printing of stickers, photocopying letters- Aienla
Whistles and pamphlets - Chandrashekhar Bhattacharya

Blank Noise Action Hero, Atreyee Majumder shares her experience:

The March 8 intervention evoked in me a feeling I had forgotten about. A feeling that is a mix of power, amusement, cheekiness. Facilitated primarily by the act being a performance, as a group, though spread out. I have been in interventions before to know that the next time I am standing around in a crowded market, and a man comes really really close, I will still feel threatened. Coz that is my real life, with no sticker, no pamphlet/testimonial, no performative posture. So the intervention is invariably for me a treat- my day out for fun- I feel like saying out loud to those threatening shopkeepers giving me '' u think you re liberated? Let me show you...." looks that today if they mess with me, I have enough recourse to resort to. So I can stare back. Tomorrow I will again walk away with greater vigour.
Rest of my thoughts are still jumbled, will add to this soon.



Blank Noise Action Hero, Annie Zaidi shares her experience:

I had not been able the wear the exact garment I wore when I was last harassed, because this was in December-Jan and I was dressed in wollens. I high-neck sweater, jeans, a longer woolen jacket and sports shoes. To get an approximation in which I would not die in this weather, I had worn a full-sleeved, loose-ish shirt and jeans.

Wearing that garment, I didn't feel much. I was as covered as covered could be, but I did realise that if I had been wearing anything less - maybe a sleeveless shirt - or a skirt or even a saree, I would have been wondering whether it was because of my clothes, because the idea is just so deeply rooted in my head that somehow, I must be responsible.

I had been to two other interventions in Sarojini Nagar so was familiar with some of the dynamics of that space and was partially correct. What I was surprised by was the reactions from the men, which was only possible because our volunteers were mingling with them and eavesdropping on what the men said. Some of it was predictable stuff, but I was taken aback by some of it. I guess, I had assumed that the people who looked on and watched would at least feel apathetic, not hostile. The hostility was something I do not understand, because the only thing you can put it down to is malice and perhaps, a mixture of guilt and misogyny?

Engaging with the street: well, I have to confess I was a little bit distracted because we were in a clothes market and I was also looking around. But it was interesting too, because a lot of the shop-keepers around seemed hostile. Was it because they thought our activities would hurt their business?

Standing around was difficult because it was so crowded and there really was no place for cycles and bikes and carts and stalls to move between us. The letters worked, I think. They usually do, and if nothing, they break the taboo and silence surrounding sexual harassment, and that is the first step.

Sharad Kapoor and Nitin Sarin were our 'spies', disperesed in the public observing public reaction and making a note of it. Here's what they literally noted down-

* On being asked what you all were doing "yeh jo ladkion ke chedakhani hai unke lie kuch hai, hona kya hai insab se bhaisaab hindustan main, aaj tendulkar kal dhoni " ( these things come and go and no one pays heed to them)

* " Kyun bhai aurat nhn kar sakti kya yeh sab, unke lie bhi kuch hona chahiye "- ( don't women harass men on the streets? We need a campaign 'against' women as well.)

* A girl took the letter and just tore it part. ( we will address the why some women chose to tear and throw away the letter- what causes that reaction. Also note the reaction below).

* We noticed one of the girl who was given a letter, started laughing after reading the letter and said " pta nhn kya karte rehte hain, what's this shit"?

* A shopkeeper had a plaster on his hand and said" mere ko bhi saza mil chuko hai is cheez ki, aap hi karoge apko bhi yahan photo lagegi" showing me the pamphlet.

( he said- i have been punished for harassing women- pointing to the plaster on his hand. He told Sharad that if you sexually harass a woman, your photo will be printed on the pamphlet.)

Content:

The pamphlet being referred to is here

The three letters given to strangers were selected from participating blogger's testimonials from the 2006 blogathon. Annie Zaidi selected them.

Dear Stranger
I used to carefully calculate my outfit before leaving the house - I had to make sure my shirt wasn't too tight, my bra strap was safely invisible, my jeans weren't too low, my skirt wasn't too short - and despite the (positively oppressive) precautions I took, I still got pinched, poked, grabbed. Day after day after day.
No more.
Now I wear what I want because it doesn't make a difference. I didn't ask for it, I don't ask for it. I never will ask for it.
If you know what I am talking about, come stand with me anytime between 5 30- 6 30 pm this evening.
Today, I am wearing the clothes I wore when I had been sexually harassed/ violated/ ‘eve teased’ on the street.
There is no such thing as ‘asking for it’.
Sincerely,
( signed by the Action Hero).


Dear Stranger
In Delhi, I was warned against wearing shorts to the gym so I wore my track pants the first day. I almost passed out from the heat while working out and resolved to wear my shorts the next day onwards. I wasn’t about to let fear of being harassed interfere with something as mundane as a good workout. I came up with a theory that if I appeared confident and unafraid, no one would harass me. I glared at any men who came too close and sure enough nobody harassed me.
This gave me the confidence to venture out alone to Connaught Place. I wore a knee length skirt, hailed an auto rickshaw and made my way to meet my friends in CP. On my way there I noticed a man on a motorcycle driving beside me and staring. I didn’t give it much thought and just looked away. When I got off the man also got off his bike and accosted me. He asked me for my number. I was taken aback but thought he was on of those “I would like to be friends with you” guys. I walked in another direction but he wouldn’t go away. I was zigzagging through cars trying to get away. He shouted at me “What do you think you are? I know exactly what you do!” I was too confused to react. What did that guy mean? What give him any indication of “What I am?” I looked around at people thinking if they would protect me if he tried anything funny. Fortunately I spotted my friend and walked towards her. As I was telling her about the incident the man disappeared. She told me that while she was waiting for me in front of the Wimpy’s an uncle-ji tried to feel her up. She even pointed him out while we walked away.
On my way back I kept watching out for any motorcycle that stayed with us for more than a couple of miles. Nothing had changed since I was a fourteen year old girl afraid to walk home from my bus stop after school.
We weren’t asking for it. No matter what we wear, we NEVER ask for it.
If you know what I am talking about, come stand with me anytime between 5 30- 6 30 pm this evening.
Today, I am wearing the clothes I wore when I had been sexually harassed/ violated/ ‘eve teased’ on the street.
There is no such thing as ‘asking for it’.
Sincerely,