Harikrishna Dev

Misogyny is not an alien concept to the world. As humankind evolved, we devolved in our understanding of women. We assumed women wouldn’t be able-bodied by mere physical attributes such as having smaller muscles or slower feet, and superposed these conformations onto their mental capacities. India was not immune to these ideologies (much like the rest of the world).

Being the so-called heir to the family, as I’m the only male offspring among the grandkids, I was brought up without understanding consequences and with a sense of privilege that I took for granted. I grew up asking quote-unquote inappropriate questions to know why I couldn’t touch my mom or sisters for three days in a month, why it was improper for them to wear shorts and sleeveless tops after a certain age, why they couldn’t run in the streets without holding their hand against their chest. Though I was unprompted to shy away from questions, I never articulated the answers I received with acuity.

As I grew up, my sisters would have so-called teenage fits, and they would ask questions that would make me seethe. Questions would include “Why is Hari encouraged to have a girlfriend, but I am to look away from boys? Why can he walk around without a shirt when I have to clad to the point of suffocation?” While I would shrug away these arguments, it did bother me when I would try to build the ideal reply in my head for future instances. These inward thoughts would grow as I noticed these incidents more often. I would see my grandma smile when she gave me a taste of her cooking while she made it. I would notice uncles eyeing girls on the street if they wore tight-fitting clothes. I would notice arguments skewed where the curst was the scales sway because you are a girl. I would start asking the same questions and point out the hypocrisy my sisters would face, but I would later realise that it was not for my decency but my affection for my kith and kin.

I still remember the day when my grandma told me that I could play around while I was a bachelor, but marry only someone in my caste. On the diametrical opposite side of the aisle were pieces of advice about my sisters not to wear sleeveless kurta tops. It astounded me that our culture is to be so self absorbed that the misogyny had embedded itself in different levels. I found myself in compromising situations as an adolescent teenager, where I would objectify actresses based on their movie roles, pass comments on peers based on their outgoing nature or attire, etc. All I want to say to my former self is Do and Be better. The argument that everyone did it isn’t a reflection of the lack of self reflection.

While I want to break free from these inherited prejudices, I find myself in compromising situations while my conscience fights with itself with rational arguments. I see myself pouting internally when my sisters are going out with friend groups of both genders and when they talk about their male peers. This is the side of myself I despise, where I defy the morals and ideals on which I build my conscience. This why I’m the Relentless Hypocrite.