Tag Archives: baby

Angry Anti-Baby Rant

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Whilst I’d  be the first person to admit I probably have some anger management issues, there are some things that people say which just take me from calm to irate in 0.3 seconds. Castigating me for not wanting children is one of them.

Just because I have a pair of ovaries inside my body does not predispose me to wanting to procreate! It’s a classic case of one rule for women, another for men. I have never heard any man being teased about being broody, or being ruthlessly interrogated for their disinterest in children – it is instead seen as a natural thing for men to have no desire for children and forever remain the single bachelor, whilst women, driven by that mythical entity ‘biology’, naturally all want to snare a man and produce offspring as their most urgent goal in life.

Strangers don’t approach you at parties and, upon assessing that you own an appendix, say, “Oh why aren’t you using that more?” Whether I do or do not choose to utilise my reproductive capabilities is not your business, and therefore I do not have to justify my personal choices to every person who wants to stick their nose in. It’s like a woman’s reproductive potential is public or community property, and all this peer pressure is the culmination of sentient genetics within the general population to ensure the continuation of our species. Well that strategy clearly hasn’t caught up with the world’s current state of over-population.

Planetary sustainability aside though, the main issue is that my personal choices should not be coming under this level scrutiny, as if it’s not my prerogative to make them. Let me use an analogy of sprouts to illustrate a typical conversation:

“Oh aren’t sprouts so great? I can’t get enough of them!”

“Actually I don’t like sprouts.”

‘What? How can you not like sprouts?”

“I just don’t like them. I’ve tried them, and they’re just not for me. I have no interest in them.”

“But everyone likes sprouts. What is it about them that you don’t like?”

“Everything. I just have no interest in eating them. I don’t really think about it.”

“Oh OK. Everyone your age thinks like that though. In a few years you’ll change your mind.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You say that now, but in a few years it’ll be different. You might change your mind.”

“And you might change your mind. You might realise that actually, you don’t like sprouts any more.”

“I would never do that.”

‘How do you know? What you think now could totally change in a few years time.”

“It won’t though.”

“Right..but what I think will, then?”

And then sometimes, depending on the person, they get angry and start really laying into me – like somehow this decision affecting no one but myself is a personal affront to them. I am not going out killing babies, or stealing them, or even commenting on other people’s’ reproductive choices – I am simply disinterested. That is, apparently, near tantamount to a crime.

The part that irritates me the most is the patronising tone. The adage of ‘you’re too young to know better right now’ is still applicable at nearly 24 years old as much as it ever was at four or fourteen. Given that women are now popping out tiny humans well into their 40s (numbers in the UK have now actually exceeded rates for teenage pregnancy) my hopes that the nagging would cease towards my late twenties have been uprooted. It doesn’t look like I’ll ever be ‘old enough’ to know my own mind and possess enough strength of will to overcome my pre-programmed biological urges. Clearly.

It’s a topic I’m sick of explaining, and sick of being hounded about. Even Facebook ads thinks I should be getting pregnant! I could understand family members wanting to see baby grandchildren and great-grandchildren – that’s entirely forgivable and I am sorry that I won’t be providing that to my Nan in her old age – but strangers, colleagues, friends, and others have no say. My life is my life.

And I really do just not want children. It’s as simple as that.

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So many things to do, so little time…

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Again, with good intentions I started writing this post a week ago, but time and other commitments pushed it to the bottom of my list. I guess I should take that as a good sign.

Let’s start with two weeks previous; I went to what was meant to be my fourth or fifth Hindi lesson (I have no idea which, the time is just passing too quickly) to find that my tutor had become a grandmother! She was still in hospital with her daughter, whose new baby girl I got to meet in my next lesson – as Razia spent most of the hour and a half holding baby Huda in one hand, whilst correcting my Hindi with the other.

I spent most of the weekend house hunting. After viewing a PG (paying guesthouse) for 10 girls and deciding I definitely didn’t want to stay in that sort of accommodation, I then visited some expat sharing flats. The first reminded me too much of messy university shared houses, and I would have opted for the shared room in a young Indian girl’s apartment right near the office, if I hadn’t visited the last place.

Off a small street full of shops, and nearer to the centre of Bangalore, this shared expat flat was in a block that had its own gardens and security. I ended up spending an hour with three of the other four girls staying there, chatting and eating biscuits (heaven!), and my mind was made up. So, with the deposit paid, and my predecessor vacating at the end of this week, I shall be shifting to the new place at the start of April. I can’t wait. More than anything I intend to make full use of the oven for cake-baking!

Bhanwari Devi (right), iconic voice against violence against women, with her daughter Rameshwari, in Mangalore on Thursday. Photo: R. Eswarraj

Padil ‘homestay’ to be hub of women activism – The Hindu.

Following my meeting with the soon-to-be flatmates, I hurried to a talk with Bhanwari Devi. Bhanwariji was, and still is, an activist against child marriage, and her outspoken protest against a particular case in Rajasthan resulted in her being gang-raped by a group of politicians. That’s the short story, but Wikipedia has it in more detail. A tiny lady wearing a bright orange shawl over her head, she came into the room as everyone stood up, and quietly got onto the stage. It was only when she started speaking, in passionate Rajasthani, that you could see how much the anger still filled her. Her daughter did the translation into Hindi, and another man into English. I wish I could have understood more of what she said – so much was lost in translation.

After ending with a defiant speech, Bhanwariji slipped into song with a group of women. I approached as one of many afterwards, all wanting to offer their help and consolations, and when I gave her namaste she replied with the warmest and open hug. She is still waiting for justice, more than 20 years after the crime was committed.

So many other events filled my week that I can only skim over them. Sunday was spent photographing my saris and putting them online – see my new shop page, or go to ebay – and Monday evening in giving my deposit over to Rita, the girl whom I shall be replacing at the new flat. Again, I got side-tracked eating too many biscuits and discussing plans for Holi with Rita and my new roommate, Priya, before I realised it was dark and should be getting back.

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Back at the office, I spent a filthy two days buried in dirt and posters in a dark forgotten corner, in my attempts to catalogue all of SICHREM’s existing stock. The more I discovered, the more there seemed to be. After turning the shamble of scrap paper and old, bent posters hidden on a top shelf into some semblance of order, I turned to the wall of t-shirts hidden in the cupboard next door. Rose and I spent the entire afternoon sorting by slogan and size. I think I might have actually dreamt that night of folding and unfolding clothes, and putting stickers onto different items. I was so proud of myself when the whole area was finished, until Rose pointed me toward a second, larger cupboard that vomited twice as many t-shirts onto my head. Save that for next week.

The most exciting Thursday in India yet then followed, as myself, Chithra, pattyamma, Rose and Mathews drove to Mysore for our colleague Prakash’s house-warming. Getting lost en route, Mathews was looking for directions. Midway along the three-lane highway, he rolled down his window and shouted at two men riding a moped, who brought their vehicle alongside ours and gave directions, both travelling along at 60 mph.

At Prakash’s, I expected a party, but the spectacle when we arrived got my Hinduism-tastebuds watering. Prakash and his wife were suffocating inside their new home, next to a heavily-smoking fire that had been built inside a temporary pit. A tent had been erected outside, and the poles framing the entrance to their house had been dressed in woven banana leaves and garlands. What followed was an extremely complex string of rituals: making puja with bananas and red ochre at each corner; throwing rice three times, at the house, at the cow brought in especially as the representation of Lakshmi (goddess of wealth and luck); pouring rice over the doorway and exchanging garlands as a couple.

I still can’t decide my favourite part – when Prakash, required to smash a pumpkin filled with red ochre against a stone, grimaced and rolled up his dhoti, or when he then had to smear his hands with the stuff and decorate each wall with his handprints.

Another hour of puja followed, all in Kannada. Interesting as it was I was soon drifting off as we sat cramped together in his smoky living room. When the last prayers were finally done, and goody bags with more coconuts handed out (my favourite part!), we enjoyed the south Indian thalli laid out for lunch, before heading back for Bangalore in the air-conditioned car.

Again another talk at the weekend, this time by Brinda Grover. She is an advocate who facilitated involvement of various NGOs and spokespersons for women’s rights in the writing of the Verma Committee report on violence against women. The Verma report has been ground-breaking in India, laying out the beginnings of better equality and respect for women, in society and the law. The ordinance proposed by the Indian government in response however was nothing short of regressive, and strongly ridiculed across society for idiocies like ignoring the possibility of marital rape, and giving sanction to the death penalty. Her talk focused around these issues, and I was so intent on what she was saying I couldn’t note things down fast enough. A really enlightening session, and I walked away that evening wanting to learn more.

Finally, Manohar and I at last managed our first meeting with the Karnataka State Human Rights Commission, as an initial point of contact before I start doing the research for my report. This is following weeks of phone calls and ‘mislaid’ faxes, or apathetic staff informing us that the Members were out from their offices. To my surprise we received such a positive response from each person we spoke to, including the chief Member, and his Registrar, that I didn’t dare breathe for fear of jinxing it. Maybe this will be an easy research process after all! *Crosses fingers*