Last year, a hypothetical better-or-worse question made the rounds on social media, mostly in America. The question, posed to women, was: if you were in the woods alone, would you rather encounter a man or a bear? Most women responding to it chose bear over man, based on prior experiences with men and a well-substantiated resulting fear. At least one woman who had encountered a real bear in the woods said she would still prefer the hypothetical bear to the hypothetical man.
This week, reading about two troubling proposals by Indian politicians made on March 8, International Women’s Day (which is not a celebration but an observance), I briefly wondered whether there was a better-or-worse between them. One: Madhya Pradesh chief minister Mohan Yadav announced that his state is crafting a death penalty provision for those involved in the forcible religious conversion of minor girls (we can make an educated assumption that this means minor girls of Hindu origin). The state already has an ironically-named Freedom of Religion Act, since 2021, that curtails conversion rights. Two: Nationalist Congress Party (SP) leader Rohini Khadse published an open letter to President Droupadi Murmu, suggesting that each Indian woman be permitted to commit one murder without consequences (we can make an educated assumption that this means killing men in self-defence). The request was in light of rampant gender-based violence; she referenced World Population Survey’s findings that India is Asia’s most unsafe country for women.
It’s arguable that Khadse’s request is an intentional shock tactic to draw attention to gender-based violence, a pervasive concern across India. It could be seen as something out of a revenge fantasy — something that, were it on celluloid or in print, might be reviewed as having feminist underpinnings. But Yadav’s statement is out of a heteropatriarchal nationalist vision that is being built before our eyes, gaining steady ground over the last decade.
Why did I wonder, even for a split second? The two statements were never on a fair playing field. One is obviously much worse. The Madhya Pradesh government isn’t doing this to protect girls from a situation for which they are at far lower risk than they are of abuse within their own families. This is purely a communal move that will be used to punish minorities, perhaps arbitrarily.
I must have recalled the bear or man question because Khadse’s idea is so very hypothetical too — thankfully, since it’s quite problematic. But it’s never going to happen. It’s not even worthy of debate, although I’m sure that more than one conversation is occurring right now: “Who would you use your free pass murder on?” (My own grim and long-winded answer would be: “How can I choose just one abuser, and does it have to be a man?”). I’m annoyed at myself for getting distracted by this piece of news, but I responded to it because I’m quadruply annoyed by the prospect that anti-feminist factions in India will pounce on it to bolster their hatred. Then I recognise that my distraction was a reflex. Collectively, and often by design, we are constantly manoeuvred to look away from what matters, from what is really on fire.