Poornima Manco

Author

2019

The bane of body shaming

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“You’ve gained weight,no?”

A cousin of my husband’s stated this gleefully, looking at me for agreement. She wanted me to say yes and look ashamed, as I had done many times before in the years gone by.

You see, I have had a peculiar relationship with my body. I have gained and lost weight multiple times in the course of my forty odd years on this planet. Each time I’ve lost weight, I’ve felt wonderful, as though I’ve conquered Mount Everest. Each time I’ve gained weight, I’ve beaten myself up internally, seeing it as a failure at the most basic level – my inability to overcome my appetite, my greed, my love of food. So, it is no wonder that people looking for my Achilles heel have zeroed in on this and hoped that a snide comment or a ‘concerned’ suggestion might trigger the reaction they are looking for.

My relationship with food and my body go back a long, long way to my childhood. My mother was, for a period of time, severely obese, triggering that corrosive disease, diabetes, in her. Consequently, she drummed it into my head that being overweight was a state to be avoided at all cost, if I wanted to stay healthy and disease free. Her suffering became my cautionary tale.

My entry into aviation was another reason to stay trim. After all, in the glamorous world of flying, who wanted to see a fat flight attendant? Vanity and a fear of ill health have, more or less, kept me within my ideal weight range. But it hasn’t been without its share of pitfalls and heartburn.

I am not naturally a slim person. My Malayali genes along with my Punjabi appetite is a lethal combination when it comes to maintaining my figure. I wax and I wane, pretty much like the moon of my name (Poornima means a ‘full moon night’).

Lately, I have been waxing more. Whether that is because I am heading towards peri-menopause, or whether that’s because I honestly can’t be bothered to put in the effort into dieting and exercise, I don’t know. What I DO know is that it’s nobody’s business what size I am.

I said as much to this ‘well-meaning’ sister-in-law. As you can imagine, that went down like a lead balloon. Instead of being fat shamed, I had responded by saying that people’s opinions on my body bothered me not a jot! Even as she stuttered and stammered, I felt liberated.

At long last I was in a place where even if I wasn’t the slimmest person in the room, I was happy and comfortable in my skin.

My body, this wonderful body, that has taken me through life, given me two babies and stayed healthy despite the deprivation and abuse I’ve subjected it to, isn’t my foe. It needs love and nurturing, and regardless of what anyone else might think of it, I will give it just that.

The trouble with Brexit (Part 3): Project Fear: non-EU immigration

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Where were you born?

And what did you do to deserve that?

If you are reading this, there is a pretty good chance that you grew up in a relatively rich country, possibly a Western democracy. It is probably safe to assume that you have never experienced hunger or war. You are likely to be well-educated, well-travelled and well-fed. You have probably never been tortured for your beliefs.

What would life have been like for us if we had been born in Rwanda, Iraq or North Korea? Would we be completely different people now? Or would we still essentially be ‘us’, but just with a different religion or skin colour?

None of us get to choose where we are born. It is all down to luck. For far too many people in the world: bad luck. For some of us: good luck. Our sons are not child soldiers; our daughters have not been raped by intruders coming into our village at night. We are the lucky ones. Tonight, thank God it’s them, instead of you.

Sometimes, it’s good to not only count our blessings, but also to remember that it’s only through a fortunate accident of birth that we ended up in a First World country, and not through any merit of our own. So let’s have some sympathy for those less fortunate than us. Let’s treat other people with a basic level of respect and compassion. Yes, even migrants and refugees.

Unfortunately, some British newspapers seem to disagree with this premise. If you are one of their regular readers – in particular, if you read the Daily Mail, the Daily Express or, to a slightly lesser degree, the Sun – you will be very much used to headlines like these:

  • “EU killers and rapists we’ve failed to deport” (Daily Mail)
  • “Migrants milking Britain’s benefits” (Daily Express)
  • “Fury over plot to let 1.5m Turks into Britain” (Daily Mail)

The first thing you notice is the fact that migrants are usually painted in an extremely one-sided, negative light. Emotive words such as ‘invasion’, ‘flooding in’ and ‘scroungers’ provoke instinctive feelings of fear or anger inside us, and are used again and again. It is ‘us’ – good, decent, law-abiding citizens – versus ‘them’ – the nasty others, who threaten our way of life.

Sometimes, media hostility goes even further than that. In an article in the Sun in 2015, columnist Katie Hopkins compared refugees fleeing war zones to “cockroaches”. And: “Some of our towns are festering sores, plagued by swarms of migrants and asylum seekers, shelling out benefits like Monopoly money.”

In 1930’s Germany, Nazi media also compared Polish people to cockroaches (an ‘East European species of cockroach’, to be precise), and Jewish people to rats. “German Jews pouring into this country” was the headline of an actual Daily Mail article in 1938. It was ‘us’ – good, decent, law-abiding citizens – versus ‘them’ – the nasty others, who threaten our way of life. Years and years of anger and fear towards those ‘others’ eventually led to yellow stars on coats, and piles of human hair in Auschwitz. Sadly, history teaches man that man does not learn from history.

This inflammatory language in the British media has not exactly gone unnoticed. In 2015, the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights urged the UK media and regulators to tackle tabloid hate speech, saying “History has shown us time and again the dangers of demonising foreigners and minorities. It is extraordinary and deeply shameful to see these types of tactics being used, simply because racism and xenophobia are so easy to arouse in order to win votes, or sell newspapers.” In 2016, Cambridge University found that “Mainstream media reporting about Muslim communities is contributing to an atmosphere of rising hostility towards Muslims in Britain.” In the same year, Leicester University warned that a wider surge in hate crimes against migrants had been “fuelled and legitimised by the media”. A campaign called Stop Funding Hate urges advertisers and other companies to stop associating themselves with tabloids that spread fear and division.

It was against this background that the EU referendum took place in June 2016. Whether their fear was real or imagined: many British people were so concerned about immigration, that it became the second biggest reason why they voted for Brexit. And who could blame them? ‘Taking back control of our borders’ seemed to make perfect sense, and the right thing to do.

So was their fear real, or had the media really been unfairly ‘demonising foreigners and minorities’ for years? Surely these newspapers just report the facts, and we shouldn’t expect them to NOT write about crimes that have been committed by ‘foreigners or minorities’, just out of a misplaced sense of political correctness?

Sure, that is absolutely true. We shouldn’t censor the news, just because it doesn’t fit in with our own biased point of view. Surely it is not a racist thing to say that there is a strong link between pedophile grooming gangs and men of Pakistani heritage, for example? Isn’t that just a fact? Don’t we have a right to know about high proportions of crimes being committed by certain ethnic groups?

Of course we do – and perhaps it is also perfectly understandable that when we now hear about that particular crime, we tend to make a mental association with certain Pakistani men. That is based on several criminal cases that we’ve read about in the news during the past few years. But it does raise the question why we don’t make the same link with white men. When it comes to child abuse and pedophilia as a whole for instance, nearly 90% of pedophiles are white, and 98% of them are men. Do those crimes get underreported, and do the crimes committed by Pakistani men, Muslims or asylum seekers get over reported? Is that the reason why we don’t have newspaper headlines telling us how dangerous white men actually are?

The problem mainly lies with the interpretation and reporting of facts. When a small proportion of ethnic minorities (‘they’) commit certain crimes, we hear about it everywhere. As a consequence, we tend to associate the entire group with that crime. But when a small proportion of ‘regular white folk’ (’we’) also commit certain crimes, we don’t hear about it as much – and if we do, we are sensible enough to keep things in perspective, and not blame the whole group. We just don’t generalise as much. Most Pakistani men are law-abiding citizens, and so are most white men, so we are talking about very small percentages of both groups that commit crimes. But public perception is totally different in both cases, and so is the language that we use.

There seem to be completely separate standards for separate groups of people. Foreigners who settle in the UK are immigrants, for instance, whereas British people who move abroad are expats. ‘Auf Wiedersehen, Pet’ was a series about British guys in Germany, who work hard to support their families back home – but Polish builders doing the same thing in the UK nowadays are stealing local people’s jobs. What’s the difference, really? Where are the headlines about British expats stealing local people’s jobs whilst living abroad?

And when it comes to Brexit and ‘those foreigners’: did we really need to take back control, and from whom exactly? Did the UK ever even lose control of its borders in the first place?

In order to answer these questions, we first need to make a distinction between two different terms within the EU immigration debate: freedom of movement within the Single Market, and free movement of people within the Schengen area.

As we saw in part one, the Single Market is the biggest and most prosperous free trading area on earth – so much so, that out of only 35 wealthy countries  (or ‘advanced economies’) in the world, 27 are inside the EU. Freedom of movement is an integral part of the success and prosperity of the Single Market, along with freedom of goods, services and capital. It is also one of the reasons why the US economy is so successful, as workers can go wherever they are needed at any given time.

These so-called four freedoms make trading within the Single Market that much more efficient and frictionless, by radically reducing red tape and border queues. At the moment, an EU driver who arrives in Dover with a truck full of goods only has to show his passport and a CMR form, and off he goes – he doesn’t need a visa, and the contents of the truck do not need to be checked if they originated in an EU country. Contrary to popular belief, freedom of movement is not unlimited though. It is just that the UK, for reasons best known to itself, has chosen not to enforce any EU-recommended limits to it (more about that next time).

The Schengen area may greatly overlap the Single Market/freedom of movement area, but it is not the same thing. This is particularly true for the UK, which is part of the Single Market, but negotiated an opt-out from the Schengen area along with the Republic of Ireland. Schengen, named after a small town in Luxembourg where the treaty was signed, is basically an area where you can move freely from country to country without having to show your passport. Imagine driving from Germany to Spain, for instance: you would drive through several countries, but there are either no checks at all or just minimal checks –  which is particularly helpful for the 1.7 million people who commute to work across a European border every day. Incidentally, those internal borders can be restored on a temporary basis during special circumstances.

At the same time, Schengen countries do have strong controls on their common external border, and have established a European Border and Coast Guard Agency called Frontex. They also have a joint Schengen visa. Apart from that, the Schengen Information System (SIS) allows them to share data on criminals, missing people or stolen property. Even though the UK is not part of Schengen, it still enjoys close police cooperation with Schengen countries, and it uses the SIS to exchange information on law enforcement.

Now that we understand both freedom of movement within the Single Market and the Schengen zone a bit better, let’s have a look at some groups of immigrants on whom the Brexit vote will have absolutely no effect, but who often get mixed into the whole debate anyway.

Let’s start with regular non-EU migrants. This one is easy: the UK has complete control over anyone who enters the UK from a country that is not in the EU.

Next: refugees. A refugee is defined as someone who is officially recognised as a person who is unable to live in his or her own country because of war or natural disaster, or owing to a well-founded fear of persecution – for instance because of their race, religion or sexual orientation. I would highly recommend that you read the harrowing poem Home by Warsan Shire, a young British woman of Somali origin. In it, she explains that “You have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat, unless the water is safer than the land.” About 85% of the world’s refugees live in poor, developing countries, often in camps. The country hosting the most refugees is Turkey, followed by Pakistan, Uganda and Lebanon. Around 4.4 million Syrian refugees are being hosted by just two countries: Turkey and Lebanon. Famous refugees include Gloria Estefan (who fled Cuba with her family when she was a toddler), Albert Einstein (who fled Nazi persecution), Freddy Mercury (whose family fled to the UK from Zanzibar in 1964) and Rita Ora (who came to the UK as a refugee from Kosovo). Once a refugee is in a particular Schengen country, it is illegal for him or her to travel to another one, and it reflects negatively on their asylum application if they get found out.

An asylum seeker is someone who is still awaiting a decision on whether or not they will be granted refugee status. In the UK, around 32% of asylum seekers’ claims are successful, going up to about 47% on appeal. It is not illegal or ‘bogus’ to be refused asylum; it just means that you haven’t been able to meet the very strict criteria to prove that you are a refugee. The number of asylum seekers in the UK is relatively small compared to some other European countries: there were only around 26,000 applications for asylum made to the UK in 2017, whereas Germany had around 198,000, and Italy had 126,000. They formed only about 5% of total immigrants in 2018.

It may be worth noting that according to the Association of Chief Police Officers, there is no evidence that asylum seekers commit more crime than anyone else. They are actually more likely to be victims of crime because of who they are; getting threatened and spat at on a regular basis. In fact, islamophobia, anti-semitism and hate crimes in general have all been on the rise in the UK since the Brexit referendum.

Illegal immigrants are people who enter the UK unlawfully, or who stay longer than they are allowed to. They are likely to be removed if their immigration status is discovered by the authorities. A report by The Migration Advisory Committee estimates that the numbers are very small: around 2,366 in 2016-2017, and around 1,832 in 2017-2018. This include people who arrive by boat, as well as those who stow away on ferries and lorries. Generally speaking though, illegal immigrants will only come to the UK if there are employers (often British) who are willing to illegally employ them.

Contrary to some reports, the UK asylum system is actually pretty tough. Asylum seekers do not have the same rights as refugees or British people: they are not allowed to work or claim benefits for instance. If they have no other means of supporting themselves, they can receive asylum support of around £5.39 a day, which is less than £2,000 a year. Illegal immigrants and asylum seekers are not entitled to, and do not get, benefits from the UK’s welfare system.

It is ironic that a hard No Deal Brexit will probably have some side effects that its supporters may not be aware of. When the UK leaves the European Union, all treaties between the two parties will cease to apply. This includes something called the Dublin Regulations, which basically allows European countries to return asylum seekers to the country where they first entered the EU. There, their fingerprints would have been taken (determining the country of first entry), and these fingerprints would then have been entered into an EU database called Eurodac. In a No Deal scenario, UK will lose the right to return asylum seekers to other EU member states because the Dublin Regulations will no longer apply. It will lose access to Eurodac as well. Apart from that, it also means that the UK’s rule-making power in the EU’s Common European Asylum System (CEAS) will end.

Even though we have all learned an awful lot more about the EU during the past few years, it is amazing how much misinformation is still out there. Also, in a country where ‘stranger danger’ stories are so prevalent and persuasive, it is easy to see the similarities between certain elements of the British press and the Leave campaign. Both rely heavily on the fear factor, and both have also been getting the facts wrong or distorted on a regular basis. Cue Nigel Farage’s infamous Breaking Point poster, and the fact that the Daily Mail has been banned as a source by Wikipedia due to its “poor fact checking, sensationalism and flat-out fabrication”.

It is also quite remarkable that both the popular press and the Leave campaign have focused so much on non- EU immigrants, who don’t have anything to do with Brexit. As we have seen, the UK has complete control over its borders when it comes to non-EU migration – and the numbers of refugees, asylum seekers and illegal immigrants are really pretty small. And crucially: the UK is an island, that is not part of the Schengen area. There is an actual, physical border with border checks, where everyone gets stopped and has to show their passports.

So yes, it may well be understandable that Mrs Outraged of Peterborough is extremely scared of foreign criminals. But we really should tell her that not only are the monsters under her bed not as big as she might imagine, Brexit is also not going to help her get rid of ‘those Pakistanis’ in her town. They probably have British passports – and besides, Pakistan is not in the EU, so it is totally irrelevant in this debate. And maybe, just maybe, she should try actually talking to some of those monsters. She might find out that that ‘they’ are actually not that different to her after all, and that The Others are really just human beings too.

Let’s end with the words of Michael Palin, who says: “I’ve actually been very reassured by travelling. It has made me feel the world is safer than you think it is, if you just read the news. Most people want to bring up their children, build their houses and live peacefully with their neighbours. They don’t want to kill anybody. Travelling is a very good way of confirming that the world is not a beastly place at all, but a place full of opportunity and great people.” Amen to that, Mr Palin.

Next time, let’s have a look at something that actually does matter in the Brexit debate: EU migration, and whether or not Turkey really is set to join the EU. Still a lot more Project Fear to come.

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Johanna Brunt was born and raised in The Netherlands. She has spent half her life there on the continent, and half her life in the UK. After studying English and European Studies at the University of Amsterdam, she moved to London where she started working for an international airline. She is married to a Brit, and they have three children together.

All routes (should) lead to love

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What an incredible weekend I have just had! My first ever Pride parade and attendance at the Attitude Pride awards. It has been illuminating, educational, poignant and exhilarating.

My first contact with a gay person was at the age of twenty. Trinny was charming, funny and ever so handsome. He was also clearly not interested in women. Having just finished an English literature degree, I had a hazy sense of what homosexuality meant because of the multiple references in the various texts I had studied, but this was the first time I was encountering a homosexual in person. Luckily, having been brought up in a very liberal environment in India, this did not faze me in the slightest. Trinny and I struck up an instant friendship. He brought to the table something my other straight male friends never had – an irreverence, a crazy sense of humour and a complete lack of toxic masculinity. Of course, at the time I wouldn’t have been able to describe it in those terms. All I knew was that I felt completely safe with him and we had a blast together.

Time, circumstances and life moved us apart, but I never forgot my first encounter with a gay person. This was to colour all my future interactions. There was always an immediate sense of kinship and safety, and I relished the cutting sense of humour I inevitably came across. Over the years, I have had many, many gay friends and I consider myself privileged that they have embraced me and accepted me into their fold.

Therefore, it is heart rending to note that even today, in so many parts of the world, they are not accepted. Lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender are just labels. We are all living, breathing human beings underneath all of that. Yet, they are discriminated against, criminalised and marginalised in so many ways, big and small.

At the Attitude Pride awards, each of the winners had intensely moving stories to tell. From losing a lesbian partner to a stray bullet, to being sexually attacked as a man by another man, to having to suffer abuse while playacting as a woman in a gay marriage, to fighting to decriminalise an archaic law against homosexuality in India, each story was powerful and disturbing. Yet, in hugely difficult circumstances, they had overcome all sorts of obstacles and in proudly accepting who they were and what they stood for, forced the world, to not just recognise, but also to reward them for their efforts. I was alternately moved to tears, while cheering them on from the sidelines.

We are who we are. None of us choose our sexuality. It is built into our DNA. So why do we view with contempt those that are different from us? Look at the multiple colours that Nature grants to the world. Doesn’t that make for an exciting and varied life experience for all of us? Imagine if every landscape was the same, if there were only two colours to choose from and if everyday was a repeat of the one before? Wouldn’t we just die of boredom?

The LGBT people amongst us are all the colours of the rainbow. They are what add spice and flavour and beauty to our lives. They are, in their differences, in their multiplicities, in their abundance and profusion, as unique and talented and incredible as any of us.

50 years ago, the Stonewall riots, started a movement, which allowed the LGBT community to fight for their rights and let their true colours fly proudly. 50 years on, the Pride parade is a celebration of all people: it’s about diversity, inclusion, acceptance and most importantly, about love.

Even as I sprinted through the various groups marching in the parade, trying to catch up with my own group, I was struck by how much happiness and love there was in the onlookers and the procession. Everybody who was there wanted to be there. This wasn’t just people wanting to watch a spectacle, this was about people wanting to be a part of history. In supporting the LGBT community, we are paving the way to erode all kinds of discrimination, whether that is on the basis of sexuality, colour, caste or creed.

50 years from now, let us hope that humanity will understand and accept that differences are important. They allow growth, change and progress. In learning to love another, despite all perceived disparities and diversities, we ultimately learn to love ourselves. All routes, must and should, lead to love. ❤️

 

 

A necessary evil?

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So, I took a month off social media in June. This really meant no Facebook, Messenger, Instagram or Whatsapp for an entire month. I have done this previously when going on holiday, as a means of staying ‘in the moment’, rather than living with a screen permanently attached to my hands. Each time I have felt happy, grounded and carefree. And each time, I have wished not to come back to social media at all.

So why do I return? Why can’t I dispense with it altogether if, in the words of Mary Kondo, it is no longer ‘sparking any joy’ within me?

Social media was meant to be a way to connect us to one another. A way to reignite past relationships, reach out across time zones and continents and bridge the gap that time and distance may have created between families and friends. To begin with, it was hugely exciting. Who didn’t want to know what happened to one’s third grade crush? Or, have the ability to be able to call one’s dad for free at anytime, from anywhere? Who didn’t want to be able to display the pretty pictures from a fun weekend at the park, or show off (subtly, of course) the last exotic vacation one had been on? So far, so harmless.

Then it began to morph into something entirely different. Digital connections started taking precedence over real time relationships. What you put out there became more important than the life you were actually leading. Filters airbrushed you into perfection, Whatsapp conversations replaced real chats over a coffee, everything became marketable, fake news was touted as the genuine article and lines became blurred between what was true, real and important, and what was quite honestly, just a facade.

When did we buy into this myth without realising that we were trading our souls? When did what was going on in someone’s house two continents away become more important than what was happening in your immediate vicinity?

Biologically, geographically and in evolutionary terms, humans can only sustain x number of relationships. Those are with your immediate family and friends, and perhaps a few from an extended circle. It is humanly impossible to have over a 1000 friends and give to them the importance and attention that a relationship requires, without our minds and our means snapping.

I once read an interesting article on how social media, particularly platforms such as Facebook keep you hooked. If you take the example of a newspaper or a magazine, you might start at the front, then skim a few articles, read a few in depth and work your way to the end. The salient point being that there IS a physical end to that publication. Now, imagine yourself scrolling through a Facebook feed. You could keep going on and on without there ever being a natural end anywhere up until YOU decide to call it a day. How many times have we sworn to ourselves – 15 minutes – and found ourselves still scrolling an hour later?

Social media is designed to suck you in, keep you there, sell you something whilst you’re there and either reinforce or subtly replace your beliefs with whatever agenda is being pushed by whichever conglomerate or political party of the day. All the while, feeding off the data you provide them freely and willingly.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Nothing in life is completely free. So, how has social media sustained itself over the years without charging us a cent? The next time you are looking for a refrigerator, and multiple adverts pop up on your Facebook feed, think about what else they know about you?

Even if none of the above bother you, let’s confront another grim reality.

I am of a generation that knew life before social media. I have my memories and some old photos to remind me of those good times. Today’s generation puts everything online. They know no different and no better. Not only are they creating a digital footprint that could come back and bite them in the future, there has also been a steep rise in mental health issues amongst the young. Their inability to distinguish between real and fake, their swallowing everything that they are fed online as gospel, and the constant comparisons they make with their airbrushed peers and their fabulous lives, have led to them finding their own, perfectly normal existences, as sub par. I am not even going to dwell on the online trolling and bullying that seems to be par for the course for the youth of today.

Having said all of the above, here I am, back on social media. Why don’t I just quit it altogether and go live in a cave? Because, even with knowing what I know, I understand its reach, its impact and its ubiquity.

In my month away, I knew I would be coming back to an avalanche of messages. In all probability, I would have annoyed somebody trying to reach me, and possibly missed out on a few social events. Even before re downloading all the apps, I started having low level anxiety about what would confront me once I signed back on.

Logically, I knew that if something was REALLY important, the person/people would find a way to make contact. After all, I was only off social media, I hadn’t fallen off the face of the planet!

What I have come back with is a renewed sense of what is important and what is not. Yes, I will skim through and I will post occasionally, but the moment I find my time being sucked up and my mental wellbeing being compromised, I will switch off again. With that as a mantra, I hope to strike the right work/life/social media balance that will keep me on an even keel. Amen to that!

 

 

The ubiquity of abuse

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I was having coffee with a bunch of ladies I didn’t really know. A common hobby had brought us together and as we met (some, for the first time) and chatted and ordered coffee and cake, the conversation veered off course as it inevitably does when you put women together. This wasn’t a business luncheon, it was very much a ‘getting to know you’ do. Our common hobby had brought us together, but we wanted to know if there was something else, beyond that, which could connect us.

As we talked backgrounds, languages, cultures, careers, husbands and children, we delved into each other’s lives, hesitantly at first, and then boldly, asking forthright questions and receiving some compelling and often hilarious answers. A sisterhood was emerging right there in that little coffee shop.

Interestingly, because we were, in effect, strangers to one another, there was a frankness and a candour to our conversation. There was no previous baggage nor was there any judgement. Each one was free to divulge as much or as little as they wished. Which is perhaps why some shocking truths emerged.

I have thought long and hard about writing this blog post. Am I betraying these ladies’ confidences if I do? Is this a kind of treachery to the very sisterhood I espouse? Am I worthy of being a confidante if I am unable to zip my lip?

However, upon reflection, I decided that yes, I would indeed write about it. No names or details of the women in question will be revealed here. That is not the purpose of this post. The purpose is to highlight the vulnerability of young children and how, it is so important for us as adults – parents and carers, to be vigilant about any possible signs and symptoms of abuse.

70% of the ladies at that table had been subject to some kind of sexual abuse as children. This ranged from an elderly relative using his trustworthy position in the family to inappropriately touch a child, to older children molesting a young girl in their midst, to a cousin leveraging his way into his sister’s affections to try and rape her.

Where were the adults when all this happened? Oblivious, too trusting or incapable of translating the traumatised child’s words and actions as a symptom of their ordeal.

Following on the heels of the #MeToo movement, the awareness of society’s ability to use and discard vulnerable adults has emerged strongly into the forefront. Yet, child abuse is so much more rampant and ubiquitous than anyone of us could have imagined.

All of these women were educated, erudite professionals who had carved out amazing careers and on the outside looked as put together as anyone else. Yet, fragments of their abusive past still lingered, making them feel ‘less than’ and handicapped in ways that even they could not articulate. If our pasts are the foundations to our future, it must have been doubly hard to build their future on the quicksands of trauma, betrayal and abuse.

I have spoken freely about the kind of sexual harassment I encountered growing up in India. Thankfully, because my mother was a very forward thinking individual, she was particularly circumspect about the adults who had access to me as a child. I had been told time and again to tell her if anything inappropriate was said or done to me. I was amongst the lucky few.

How many others had to stay ‘schtum’ because of the joint families they were growing up in wouldn’t tolerate any rent in its fabric, even if the casualty was a child’s innocence? How many parents believed that shrouding the truth or simply disbelieving the child were the only ways forward? How many ‘uncles’ or manservants got away scot-free because the ‘good name’ of the family was far more important than offering the victim love, support, understanding and challenging the perpetrator’s dirty deeds?

Too many.

Which is why it is so important that we talk about childhood sexual abuse. Children have nothing to be ashamed of. They are completely innocent of any wrong doing. It is the sick and depraved adults who choose and groom their victims alongside their families, that need to be brought to task.

I hope there comes a day when that coffee table conversation will not be limited to the tales of abuse suffered by young children, but will go on to elaborate the punishment society accorded to the abuser, and the counselling that was offered to the child to overcome that early trauma. As things stand right now, most children have to find their own coping mechanisms and unlike my ladies, can and do, spiral into self destructive behaviours.

I am not naive enough to believe that we will eradicate child sexual abuse completely. Wherever there is a power imbalance, abuse will exist and thrive. Sadly, there will also always be individuals with a sexual predilection for children. A multi-pronged approach that includes awareness, education, therapy, counselling, stricter laws and most importantly, a gradual erosion of patriarchy, may bring about the much needed change that will protect our children and ensure a safer future for them.

 

 

Wrung out

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“I don’t know how you do it!” is a refrain I hear often. The ‘it’ being – working which involves a lot of travel, taking care of home which involves cleaning, cooking, doing the chores while also parenting and trying to be a supportive partner, while keeping up with my exercise and friends, TV shows, movies, reading and writing. All of this is in no particular order as depending on the day and the need, the hierarchy gets moved around a fair bit.

Now, if I were to be honest, while I may look swan-like getting it all done, there is some furious paddling going on beneath the water, and often times tasks are either hurriedly done or left completely by the wayside. Neither of which are desirable outcomes. My story is no different to any other working mother, some of whom don’t even have the kind of super supportive husband that I do.

The month of June was meant to be the month I took off social media to focus on work and writing. I have done both, but life does have a funny old way of throwing a spanner in the works.

My daughter’s A levels are going on, and rather than being that nagging mother who is on her back 24/7 haranguing her to study, I thought, this would be the perfect month to work to my max, and stay out of her hair. After all, at this late stage, it’s better for her to have a relaxed state of mind to sit her exams. What I couldn’t possibly have foreseen is the ill health of my second daughter. An ear infection that has her screaming in agony, sleepless nights, an allergic reaction to the antibiotics, another rushed visit to the doctor’s, being given an unsigned prescription on a Friday evening making it near impossible to procure the medication, husband running from pillar to post and finally, miraculously, through some fortuitous messaging, getting a hold of the meds.

While the medicines do their work, I am at work again. This time, however, I find I have a short fuse, am completely exhausted and totally unable to string a coherent sentence together. Writing? Once again on the back burner.

Sometimes I despair that I’ll never become the sort of serious writer I aspire to be. The one who gets up each morning and in a very disciplined manner, trots out a couple of thousand words before serenely taking out the garbage and getting the rest of her chores done.

Me – I write when I can, where I can. Sometimes, not for weeks. And when I do, it’s not always the best quality. What hope is there for me?

My mother always said that I could be a bulldog about the things that I wanted. I really want… no, I really need to write. I guess its sheer tenacity that keeps me going. That, and a sense of catharsis and peace. Each time I sit down to write, I feel like I’m coming home. This is where I’m meant to be, this is what I’m meant to do.

So, in answer to the oft repeated question, how do I do it? I do it. Badly, haphazardly, intermittently. Still, I keep going. Tired and wrung out as I am, it’s the only way I know how to live. All those multiple balls in the air… some will fall, some will roll away, but I’ll keep juggling them till I have breath left in me.

Now, I’ll go take a nap.