Gloria Steinem

Gloria Steinem

Gloria Steinem

Gloria Steinem, American feminist writer and editor, is a most uncommon woman. An untiring activist for women’s rights, a ceaseless campaigner for social justice, this poster girl of the feminist movement and the ‘It girl’ of the 1960s has mellowed into a seasoned yet influential writer and thinker. However, during a career spanning five decades she has remained steadfastly non traditional, always thinking outside the box consistently refusing to conform. Co-founder of the New York Magazine and Ms., she has been a prodigiously prolific writer and speaker, drawing attention to issues of race, sex, ethnicity, conflict and abuse in their many forms; but her prism for viewing the world has remained a feminist one. On a recent visit toNew Delhi, to deliver a lecture on Feminist Approaches to Combating Sex Trafficking and Prostitution organised by a women’s self-help group, Apne Aap, Steinem spoke to the Herald about the compulsions and contradictions of the global feminist movement today.

Q. Feminism today is a house divided. Feminists disagree on most issues that face those who are campaigning for equal rights. These disagreements occasionally seem like a generational gap but sometimes they appear as a clash between academics and activists or between liberals and radicals. What do you make of these differences?

A. That hasn’t been my experience. On the contrary, there is probably more agreement within the global women’s movements than in other global movements. For instance, women may want to give birth or limit birth, but they join forces for reproductive freedom as a human right that’s at least as important as freedom of speech. After all, women can decide when and if to give birth is the single greatest element in whether we’re healthy or not, educated or not, active outside the home or not, and how long we live. There’s also a majority-shared belief that decisions about our bodies should be made by us and not our governments.

Ending violence against females is also a common cause, whether this means ending honour killings and dowry murders and female genital mutilation and son preference or sexual assault and domestic violence and body imagery that creates eating disorders. Access to education is a widely held goal, whether this means literacy or professional schools. So is equality in the media. Also, women in elected and other public decision-making positions is a big common cause, from Congress in Washington, which is way down the world list for female representation, to Liberation Square in Cairo.

As a path to these goals and more, women gather together in small groups to discover shared experience and support each other — that’s as tried and true in the India of Self Employed Women’s Association and Apne Aap as it is in the villages along the Zambezi river or teenage activists and health care professionals and women executives in New York. We’ve learned that humans are communal creatures who need to form alternate ‘families’ for support, that someone who’s experienced something is probably more expert than the experts, that the personal is political, and that change grows from the ground up like a tree. Women often tell me they’re surprised at the similarity of struggles in dealing with male-dominant systems — even very far away.

Maybe language differences need bridging. For instance, academics may say ‘agency’ and ‘discourse’ when they just mean free will and talking. I’m always threatening to put a sign on the road to Yale or Harvard that says, “Beware! Deconstruction ahead!” But just as we ask physicians to describe our health options in words we can understand, activists can ask academics to make their work actionable; otherwise it won’t get off the page and into real life — which is also what academics want. And academics are giving us the huge gift of our history, learning from the past, less reinventing the wheel.

Q. One major point of conflict among feminists appears to be on the issue of sex trafficking and prostitution. While one group is clamouring for legalisation of sexual labour and unionisation of sex workers in India, another is against legalisation. What is your view?

A. We’ve mostly passed the polarisation into “criminalisation” versus “legalisation”. I don’t know any feminist groups that want to arrest the women or men – and certainly not the children – who perform sex acts for money which, of course, is the surrealistic and unjust punishment that still happens in most of the world. I also don’t know any feminist groups that think traffickers who buy, kidnap and deceive human beings into sex slavery shouldn’t be arrested.

To state a complex issue in an everyday way: an adult may have the right to sell her or his body, but nobody has the right to sell somebody else’s body. In the US, we’ve also learned a lot from the ten Nevada counties where prostitution is legal — as it is in, say, Germany. The women’s movement had to march to keep the state government from denying welfare, unemployment and other benefits to women who wouldn’t take this job — because it was presented as “work like any other”. In Germany, too, legalisation turned the government into a procurer — until there were massive objections. Traffickers also use legalised areas to “break in” new captives with drugs, beatings, the Stockholm Syndrome. In the US, the average age of entry into prostitution is 13; just a little older than inIndia. Our girls are less likely to have been “sold” because of poverty but between 70 per cent and 90 per cent of prostituted females have been sexually abused as children and, so, often have come to believe they have no other value.

In Amsterdam where legalisation was pioneered, the mayor reports that there is no way to keep out organised crime. Demand for prostitution creates trafficking and many now regret it. Legalisation is what the traffickers want. They put a lot of corrupting cash into lobbying for it, and also hide behind such titles as “peer AIDS educators” or “facilitated migration”. Inside the women’s movement, I’ve noticed that household workers are the most worried by efforts to legalise prostitution — because they feel the most vulnerable if it’s “a job like any other”. In South Africa, I met village women who compared prostitution to selling organs in order to survive but then changed their minds after many body invasions a day.

But at least now, we know what works: decriminalising the women, men and children, offering them services and real alternatives; prosecuting the traffickers, pimps and brothel owners to the full extent of the law; and educating customers on the realities of the global sex trafficking for which they are the demand. That’s what has worked in Sweden and other Nordic countries. They are the only ones in which trafficking has decreased. This approach is also beginning to work in places like Atlanta and Chicago.

Obviously, the long term answer is creating economic alternatives. Wherever there is the most equality between women and men, there is the least prostitution and trafficking. Wherever there are strong race, class and caste hierarchies prostitution is also greater because so-called “superior” groups of women are sexually restricted and so-called “inferior” groups of women are sexually exploited. The really long term answer is Eroticising Equality — at least that’s now a slogan on T-shirts! Also, young men are more likely to understand that cooperation is pleasurable, domination is not.

Q. It’s been a long battle. Looking back, tell us briefly about the highs and lows?

A. The highs have been the successful contagions of mutual values and brave actions among diverse women — and some men, too. The lows have been seeing that majority support for issues doesn’t mean they triumph. We don’t yet have democracies. Money often trumps majorities, and religions are often patriarchal politics that can’t be criticised.

Q. In your memorable Address to the Women of America (1971) you had said: “Sex and race because they are easy and visible differences have been the primary ways of organising human beings into superior and inferior groups … ” Would you not add religion to sex and race as a way of putting people into easy and visible groups? I am asking the question specifically in the context of Islam and the way the West, in particular, views the Muslims?

A. Yes, that’s often true of religion, but I would still say sex and race – and often caste and class – are still different because they are much less likely to be changeable than are our religious beliefs or even our religious identities. There may be huge differences within one religion. Think of the difference of, say, Sufis from much of Islam, or the difference between such Christians as Quakers – who reject violence and hierarchy – and fundamentalist Christians who “beat the devil” out of children and even murder abortion doctors.

Q. In the Indian subcontinent, we have had a long history of discrimination against women and the girl child. Activists in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh have, in different ways and by different degrees, been waging a war against gender-based discrimination. Legislation, no matter how gender-sensitive, can only go so far. What are the other issues in our part of the world – apart from unequal sex – that appear urgent to you? And how best can we tackle them outside the realm of legislation?

A. I wouldn’t attempt to judge which issue is the most important for anyone else; each of us knows what hurts the most. I would just say that inequality in the family normalises inequality everywhere else, including by caste or class or race or ethnicity. Cults of gender are relatively new in human history – from 500 years to 5,000 years old depending on what part of the world you’re in – but that’s still less than five per cent of human history. They arose gradually with patriarchy and its control of reproduction and the bodies of women.

Sometimes, a reporter will ask me: aren’t you interested in anything other than the women’s movement? I always say: tell me something? In 40 years, no one has ever been able to come up with anything that wasn’t transformed by an understanding that human beings are linked, not ranked, and are also linked, not ranked, with nature.

Now that new Doomsday Weapons have coincided with hierarchical beliefs, I think we all wonder if it’s too late for us on this Space Ship Earth. But if even one generation of children were born wanted, loved, and raised without hierarchy and violence, I think we have no idea what might be possible.

Address to the Women of America

Saving Face

Rukhsana, a victim of acid attack, looks at the damage to her hands. Photo: Asad Faruqi

Just as the credits for Saving Face rolled, I sent Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy a text message: “I can’t remember the last time a movie made me cry.” She called me back almost instantaneously, incredulous. It made me cry? Me? And so I decided to admit it in print — yes, I cried when I watched Saving Face. It’s just that poignant a story. And the fact that it’s a story so close to home, with the added connotation and significance of an Academy Award nomination — the first for Pakistan, as it has been said over and over again, but really, that sentence cannot be said enough times, because how often do we get a ‘first’ that doesn’t fall within the ambit of extraordinary acts of violence, terrorism or a myriad of development-related issues?

The first three minutes of the film are brutal. An estimated 100 acid attacks are reported annually in Pakistan; many remain unreported. And the common thread running through stories of these attacks is that of rejection — “I was 13 years old at the time of the attack … I refused the advances of my school teacher and his friend and then he threw acid on me,” “The first time he threw acid on me, it was on my shoulder. A year later, he returned and threw acid in my face. Because we rejected his proposal.” When Zakia, one of the focal characters in the film, tries to divorce her husband, a drug addict and alcoholic, he douses her in battery acid outside the courthouse.

As these women narrate stories of immense suffering, their tenacity is apparent — they continue to care for their children (one woman returns to her husband, even after he threw acid on her and her sister-in-law threw gasoline on her, for the sake of her children), dress in hues of pistachio and fuschia, wear bangles and make-up, comfort each other through any available forum and aggressively press for legislative change. While the documentary narrates the slow cycle of change through transformation with a focus on the work of Dr Mohammad Jawad, a plastic surgeon specialising in reconstructive surgery, the ‘change’ here is more than cosmetic. These women are not counting on a beautiful face in order to go about their lives as before — as one woman says in an Acid Survivors Foundation group session, “It took us a while to gather courage. We used to be so scared at first. But now we have no such tensions.” They find some semblance of closure with the passing of the Acid Control and Acid Crime Prevention Bill and a landmark judgement for one of the film’s characters, a twist that the film-makers did not expect.

While we have celebrated Chinoy’s achievement, we have judged her work in equal measure. As a recent comment on Facebook put it, her work is “capitalising on Western fears and projecting imbalanced views … a good representation of colonial mindset.” Additionally, critics of Saving Face say Chinoy is merely retreading ground already exhaustively covered by reporters for years in Pakistan — the ire here is also partly directed at the cache that comes with having an international brand back your work, as opposed to the significantly lower level of attention we give to similar work in local media and by local researchers and academicians. Is this a new story? No. It is one story among thousands that focuses on two survivors of acid attacks. This precise focus and the intimate treatment of the documentary’s subjects makes it clear that this film is not trying to be, should not and will not be the final word on such stories from Pakistan.

As for the oft-repeated criticism about pandering to a Western market for sensationalist stories about Pakistan: had Chinoy made a film that categorically focused on the failings of society and governance that allows such horrific crimes to take place, the sympathies of the religiously-inclined towards the perpetrators of such crimes and a culture that allows women to be treated in such a manner, often as punishment for seeking emancipation, she wouldn’t be putting our best face forward, but it certainly would be one of our many faces, and unfortunately, the guise within which much of the West recognises and identifies us.

Saving Face aired on HBO on March 8. It premiered at the Human Rights Watch Film Festival in London at the Curzon Soho on March 28.