#MeToo: I Don’t Want To Be Known For Our Complicit Silence, But For Our Solidarity
On Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, Tanushree Dutta, and speaking out.
September 27, 2018:
As Dr. Christine Blasey Ford finished sharing the opening statement of her testimony against Brett Kavanaugh, I watched in stunned silence. I watched, as she recounted the incident— sharing details that many women are forced to burden forever.
I watched in stunned silence, as she said she would try her best to be “helpful” and answer all the questions, and wished she remembered each and every minute from that night. I watched in stunned silence, as she politely requested for “some caffeine” at the end and was thankful of being offered a Coca Cola.
I grew up in a household where I was treated equally as my male cousins and friends. But I learned soon enough that my house wasn’t the whole world. Like so many other Indian women, I quietly learned to wear my backpack frontwards, to wear loose “uninviting” clothing in crowded places, to be the first one to say sorry as men aggressively brushed against me, and to try and forget “bad memories” of being groped, touched, pushed, harassed and cat-called, while doing seemingly harmless activities like jogging or reading in a park.
As I heard Dr. Ford’s statements and listened to her answers (clear yes and no’s, letting the Senate members finish, pausing to give clear answers), I thought of the many parties in college — some that I attended, and some that I heard about. We were always quick to question why she was wearing what she was wearing, why she was sitting like that leaning against him, how she overreacted when someone forcibly put colours on her during Holi, how she wore a white shirt in the rains and was evidently asking for it.
In a ‘Let’s rate women on a scale of 1 to 10 basis their body’ conversation in the boy’s hostel, a few classmates refused to ‘rate’ me and proudly told me why the next day. “It’s because you read books dude,” they said. “You are smart.” The desexualised, backpack-wearing bespectacled woman had succeeded in protecting herself from objectification. Yay.
I watched Senator Kamala Harris tell Dr. Ford, “We believe you”, and wept. I wept because I know so many women who are waiting to hear that, and who need to hear that.
As the hearings progressed in the US, an Indian actor’s story of being harassed and abused on a film set 10 years ago unraveled in India. Like the people who said they understand Dr. Ford BUT believe Kavanaugh is an honourable man, messages flooded Indian social media about how the accused actor, Nana Patekar, and the other men who were alleged accomplices, are “good people” and well, honourable men.
People went on to call the Indian actor “attention seeking”. Eventually, there would be attempts to silence her, like the many women who spoke out before her. Suzette Jordan was slut-shamed even after her assaulters were convicted, Jyoti Singh and countless others have died of brutal assault, Mathura is still awaiting justice, Aruna Shanbaug passed away after being in a vegetative state for over two decades — without justice.
Dr. Ford chose, as part of what she termed her ‘civic duty’, to come forward and willingly testify against the President’s nominee for the US Supreme Court, Judge Brett Kavanaugh, whom she alleges, sexually assaulted her. She chose to speak out against a system that’s ruled by toxic power, that still continues to ask survivors “But why are you reporting it now?”
Listening to Dr. Ford really evoked something deep inside of me. In a world where speaking up is an act of rebellion, offering solidarity and empathy too, are acts of rebellion. Let’s be better, let’s learn to listen, believe, support and hear survivors. I don’t want to be united only through our collective stories of trauma, grief, shame and violence. I want to be united with people across the world through bold acts of empathy.
I want to be united in a way that when an actor like Tanushree Dutta breaks her silence after 10 years of being assaulted and harassed, people in power cannot afford to say that they can’t comment on it because “their name isn’t Tanushree or Nana Patekar”.
Rigid, archaic systems of power are run by toxicity and patriarchy. They are okay with us demanding access to education and nutrition. But when a small section of society, routinely unheard and oppressed, choose to threaten the very foundation of this system, havoc runs in the establishment. How many voices have to speak out before this shameful cycle of silence and protection is broken? We cannot become yet another generation that goes down in history as tired, hoarse and broken.
Dr. Ford’s testimony sparked yet another public outpouring of survivors sharing their stories. Regardless of the final verdict, thousands showed solidarity and empathy.
In India, Journalist Janice Sequeira, came forward to support and corroborate Tanushree’s story. So many college students stepped up, refusing to live in a sexist culture in the name of ‘fun and learning’.
At home, my sister is using our family WhatsApp group to shut down sexism with grace and humour. We are being told that it’s okay to be not okay, to be vulnerable, to be broken, to be tired. We are slowly seeing that our collective voices do make a difference.
It is these moments that I want us to be known for — not for our complicit silence, but for our bold acts of solidarity. For what truly connects us and makes us human.
