It must’ve been an early evening in March five years ago when a group of us sat down to discuss what we were going to do for the upcoming Women’s day. I remember sitting there utterly bored as one textbook social work idea after another was suggested—‘awareness’ programme, cooking competitions and such. That is when I suggested we think along the lines of putting something together that didn’t bore us, but more importantly something wasn’t so ‘women’ like - something that would challenge their own perceptions of what they could do while stunning those who have continuously told women what they mustn’t do.
And thereby came along the decision to group the women who wanted to participate into three and set them off on a treasure hunt in their own community. All of Dooming Kuppam in Santhome came to a standstill on that day as women rushed from one place to another, claiming territory they had never stepped into earlier, discovering new places in their own home, working together to win the treasure, wanting to win it so much that for a whole two hours they stayed uninhibited by their otherwise inhibiting lives. The women had never done anything like this before, and the men had never dreamt that it would happen, so the real treasure was the memory it left behind and one of the women put it, “Never before have I dashed through the streets, been in a rush, cared little about the way my saree was catching the wind or the speed with which I was walking. I would’ve never done it by myself, but now we all did it so one person can’t be picked on. Did you see the men at the teashop? They didn’t know what hit them. Oh please organise more of these, we don’t want a prize but just a reason to run”.
We never got around to organising another treasure hunt, but the one we did remains etched in the memory of all people simply because it put women out there, in plural, and they were running to get something and women on the streets simply to be on them is as subversive as it gets. Since then though I’ve been thinking about how I too had always needed a reason to run in a world that has taught me to not draw more attention to myself. It started with my Biology teacher who pulled me up in the school corridor one day to say “You’re big. You shouldn’t be running unless you have a real reason to do so.”
I thought sport was reason enough till I realised I was continuously reduced to the sidelines as a substitute. I declare here that I’ve run my most in the Sathyam Cinemas car park with enough reason and chance that came from miscalculation of time. People would turn their heads, but remain understanding that I had a movie to catch.But the real chance I was waiting for—one that needed no reason to run but wanting to do so with a bunch of people who neither shamed ability or size—came last week when I heard about the Feminist Library’s fortnightly running club in London.
I ran for the first time in my life for the sake of running years, taking hold of an opportunity years after I had created one for my Akkas in Dooming Kuppam and I have this to say: Running is a feminist issue for those who can or want to, running is about safety, including bodies of all sizes and abilities, women in groups, reclaiming the streets, and having fun doing all the things we are not supposed to, with or without reason. Running is not running away, it is starting to fight back.If you have the chance, run, especially from ‘periyavanga’ who tell you what to do and the pitiable ones that need names and details for responsible journalism.
Archanaa Seker
seker.archanaa@gmail.com
The writer is a city-based activist, in-your-face feminist and a media glutton