How I got a major Indian media outlet to change the way they depict sexual violence

As a woman and an independent Indian journalist, a writer and a poet, I have regularly engaged with gender-based violence throughout my career. Recently, I decided I wanted to write more on the subject — particularly to better understand why men commit sexual violence and why women are not encouraged to report it. My research for this work required me to click on rape-related news more often than the average news consumer.

The outcome was distressing. I found that story after story included images of survivors of sexual violence that were gory and denigrating. They often depicted survivors in shredded clothes, fear-stricken eyes, and arms outstretched in appeal.

These images not only forced readers who are also survivors to relive their own trauma, but also depicted survivors as hapless objects carrying the shame that should be attached to their violators. This depiction also caused the subjects of the photos to potentially face a double victimization through the stigma that society imposes on rape survivors. As someone who has faced sexual harassment and child abuse, I certainly did not wish to be depicted this way.

What’s more, images of the alleged perpetrators of this violence were rarely featured. If illustrated at all, perpetrators were usually presented as hands gagging a woman’s mouth or a huge figure hulking in the shadows. While guilt squarely belongs with the oppressor, these images depicted powerless women cowering in shame. If sex is about power, then these images only served to maintain the status quo of men having power over women. They robbed women of their dignity, agency, and identities by presenting them as nothing more than victims — as prey to male predators.

In January this year, I grew tired of seeing these images and doing nothing about it, so I launched a petition on Change.org that explained why this subject was of concern not only to me, and all sexual violence survivors, but to anyone who respects women and believes in gender equality. Specifically, the petition asked Network 18, a media house in India, not to use disrespectful images of women in their reporting on sexual violence. I chose Network 18 because I believed it would be more effective to start with a specific news group rather than condemn all of them at once. What’s more, Network 18 is a mainstream news group that has a large presence across various platforms in more than one language — all of which could be positively impacted if my petition saw success.

In February, I co-organized a Twitter chat with the human rights organization Breakthrough India in which journalists, activists, and other people participated and discussed how insensitive gender reporting discourages and disrespects survivors.

But in addition to calling out bad media representation of sexual assault survivors, I wanted to put forth the best alternative way to cover the topic. I found out that Breakthrough had launched a workshop called #RedrawMisogyny to produce images that can be used in sexual assault-related media coverage, which focus on culprits of violence, not the victims of it. I also studied toolkits like the Chicago Taskforce Media Toolkit (Reporting on Rape and Sexual Violence), and resources put together by the Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma to help reporters understand how to better report on the topic.

All of these efforts allowed me to have a conversation with the media about gender-sensitive reporting that was related to the petition but that also ultimately went beyond it. I wrote to media groups in India and other countries requesting that they do simple things like make a statement on social media supporting the petition if they agreed with the cause. Sometimes this worked: For example, one Hindi magazine contacted me to let me know that even though they are a feminist publication, my work helped them realize that they too need to be more careful with their language when reporting on cases of gendered violence.

Almost two months after I first published it, the petition had gotten 47,000 signatures, but I still hadn’t heard anything from Network 18. Then, on March 14, I received a response from the executive editor of CNN News Network 18, pledging that the outlet would remove all debilitating images of women from their database and use more neutral substitutes. He also committed to training their staff in gender-sensitive reporting.

This victory was ultimately just a small step toward changing how the media depicts survivors of sexual assault. All media houses, not just Network 18, need to take these steps — and stick to them in the long term.

Survivors often trust reporters to write about their stories in the hopes of achieving justice; the press can cover cases in which the police refused to help, and therefore shut them out of other forms of justice. Sometimes these reports have real power to put pressure on the police to act. But these benefits are often negated when the reporting involved isn’t sensitive to the survivor’s needs. Journalism has the power to hold a space of compassion and dignity for the trauma that survivors are denied elsewhere; we must make sure that it does.

First published in The F Bomb, Women's Media Center, 25 June 2019.

Transforming media depiction of sexual violence

Media reports about sexual violence may be geared towards raising awareness and justice but the images themselves sometimes end up doing damage instead because they reinforce the stereotype of women as “easy prey”, in turn encouraging rape culture. One powerful way to make society view such women as “survivors” and not “victims” is to change the way the media depicts them.

I used to be an activist in the past. After I joined journalism, I have tried to steer clear of activism in order to ensure that as a journalist my work carries minimum bias and that when it does, I make it known. With this mindset, sometimes when things within the media community bother me, I feel perplexed about where to draw the line between carrying on with my job of being a reporter and speaking about issues that affect me as a member of this community.

Insensitive reporting done in the case of incidents of sexual violence had bothered me for a long time. I used to get especially upset by ghastly drawings that were supposed to represent the survivors, where the women seemed to have been robbed not only of their clothes but their dignity. Instead of creating awareness, some of these images actually seemed to titillate. There came a point when I felt that taking up this issue was important because it is necessary to look inwards. My intention was not to fight or blame anyone else but to take responsibility for the profession I was part of. Gender sensitive reporting was not something I only wanted others to do but also wanted to do better myself.

But how could I do something about it? Would anyone read or respond if I sent letters to media houses? Should I write articles on it? Would my attempt be seen as an effort towards censorship? I finally decided to bell the cat with a Change.org petition, ‘Set an example by not using disrespectful images of women in sexual violence reporting’. Even then I had to decide who I should address. I thought about the Press Council of India but wondered whether, even if the petition was heard and an advisory issued, it would be effective. I finally decided to write to a particular media house in order to start out small, and I chose Network 18 because it was a major mainstream outlet and its decision could possibly also have an impact on others. 

 
“A scared figure crouching in a corner, a large hand covering a mouth trying to muffle a scream, outstretched arms pleading for help, tattered clothes . . .We have all seen these images that accompany media reports of sexual violence against women. As a woman who has survived sexual harassment like so many others in India and around the world, I have felt insulted looking at these images. I don’t want to be depicted this way,” I said in my petition.

After having sent off the petition, I started garnering people’s support for it. We had online and offline discussions among friends, colleagues, journalists and NGOs over how such images further objectified women, and thereby actually encouraged and did not prevent assault. I read more on the subject to learn how I, while I was at it, could do better reporting on sexual violence as a print and digital journalist. 

When The Assam Tribune invited me to write a short piece on the subject and I shared the article online, it resonated with a lot of people. Germany based Hostwriter, a media platform for cross-border collaborations, also sent in their support for the demand. Whenever I was invited to speak about my campaign or about gender related concerns in general, I got another chance to request people to sign the petition if they agreed with the demand. If I went for media trainings and workshops, I would solicit the suggestions of others. 

I had also been sharing a Hindi translation of the petition in order to reach the maximum number of potential supporters. I was trying to stay prepared for questions around alternatives to current images. Personally, I thought the images of people, especially women, protesting sexual violence, which have already been used by many, could be a powerful example. Such images were not about helplessness but about rage that challenged the oppression. These pictures showed that women are “doers,” not always the “done upon-s.”

The sample images that Breakthrough, an organisation working to end violence against women, had put together for their Redraw Misogyny campaign a few years ago also changed the narrative. Women were illustrated in a realistic way and more space was given to the representational images of harassers who were clearly portrayed as the wrongdoers. 

Some journalists told me they had earlier raised the issue in their newsrooms but not much attention was paid to it. I, too, did not know if Network 18 had even read my petition. There had been no acknowledgement, no “we will look into it,” and so, in my mind, I started feeling that I might have to keep up the campaign for years, and then I might as well try to effect a change in other spaces.

I was least prepared to get an affirmative response from CNN News 18 even before the petition had completed two months of existence. In their response, they promised to clear their database of the older stock images and instead use more neutral visuals. They further added, “We have also let all our reporters, members of our editorial and production teams know how to use images while reporting on sexual violence.” It was a better and quicker response that I had expected and I felt immensely grateful to the 47,000 people who had stood behind the petition with their signatures. Frankly, I had not imagined that so many people would care about the issue.

The fact that not only the media house but so many people responded to this call for change showed that while individual journalists may not have the decision making power that rests with editors or media group owners, when backed by the readers of their reports, they too could play a small part in changing the narrative. As the petitioner, I have been trying to follow up on Network 18’s promise so that I could write to them if I found them using images that could still be problematic. 

Sometimes, when I share these images with other survivors, there are differences of opinion around certain visuals. All this taught me that there is a lot of work to be done in the area of gender sensitive reporting, and especially on the images used with reports on sexual violence. One way to move forward is to keep our ear to the ground and find out how viewers and survivors respond to the same set of images. We could take these images to young boys and men to find out what role the images play in forming perceptions around sexual assault, women and gender equality. There is a long way to go, and I am glad that small beginnings are being made.



First published in Network of Women in Media, India, 23 May 2019.

On what it takes to puncture a manel and overcome internalised conditioning in a patriarchy

As a journalist, a writer, a poet or as someone invested in gender issues, if I am invited to speak publicly, there is often a pattern to the sequence of events that unfold. There are aspects of internalised conditioning that I have to work against to publicly be as full and true a version of myself as I want to be.

If I am the only woman on what would otherwise have been a manel, I wonder if I have been invited for the sake of tokenism. A grassroots activist organisation called me for their programme once on short notice saying they are all men and that they need “some woman” on stage. At times like these, I sit down with myself to believe that maybe it is some effort, however small, made by the organisers to be diverse. I have to remind myself that what I am going to share comes from the work I have done, however limited, and from my lived experiences. And that since sharing this has resonated with people in the past and encouraged others to speak up, it is important that I continue to do so regardless of the organiser’s agenda in inviting me. In fact recently I came across an excellent tweet where the woman is aghast at being invited as a gender diversity showpiece. Then she remembers how men have been getting so many invites for ever simply by virtue of being men. This calms her, and me, down.

On these public occasions, I remind myself of my school days when I spoke too fast because I was, as so many women are, afraid of taking too much time or space. This was despite encouragement by teachers who had read my articles in the local paper and had thus asked me to speak in the morning assembly. But in writing I could quietly put my thoughts out there and withdraw; in speaking I had to convince myself and a full school playground that my words were worthy of their time. My friends in the audience used to gently tell me that I seemed hurried, and that they would have liked to hear more from me. When I recall this today while being on stage, I slow down and learn to use the time allotted to me, even as I marvel at how most men around me leisurely exceed the time limit. I remember an exceptional case, a poetry event when I used up all my time while the men finished sharing their works in a shorter duration. I look at these instances, or occasions of taking a couple of additional minutes, with a mixture of guilt and embarrassment at having got “carried away”, and exhilaration at having finally claimed my time and space.

Once I am off the stage and if people I do not know come to compliment me on my words, I am reminded of all the times my confidence was labelled as arrogance. I try extra hard to prove to them that I do not think too much of myself. I labour to appear as polite and humble as I feel. From the point of qualifying or rejecting others’ compliments to realising that it is disrespectful both to them and to myself, I have now reached the stage of biting my tongue and saying a tight thank you, and then worrying about whether I would have struck the other person as being too cold.

When it is a man praising me I listen with bated breath hoping he won't ask for my number (unless for a clear, work related purpose). If he doesn’t, I am relieved. If he does, I give it because I do not want to be rude. Later I am angry with myself for buying into the notion that my concern about not being harassed (arising from experience) is less important than a man’s feelings.

The next time it happens I say no, and offer my email instead. The man notes down my digital address and gives me his phone so I can punch in my number, as if he never heard my no. Ironically, my talk at the event where I was the only woman on the panel was on listening to women’s stories rather than imposing our stories on them. The man’s dogged pursuit of my number while ignoring my own consent makes me feel like once again someone is trying to force me to link my Aaadhar number with every shred of my identity. As I wonder if I would have to get a Supreme Court order to make his volatile effervescence subside, my friend approaches me and subtly fixes my sari palla slipping off my shoulders. I am suddenly aware of all the people, all the men around. I am now too tired to think and don’t want to get into an argument so I end up feeding my number. I return home frustrated with myself again for having caved in, for not having stood up tall enough, long enough for myself while I had aimed to do that for other women in my speech. I get some semblance of a closure only when he calls me up later and asks to meet and “just chat about stuff”, and I respond with a terse no and hang up and block his number.

I am a feminist, I am 33, I am called to speak on issues concerning women, I am perceived as bold and outspoken by many. Yet I struggle to occupy space, to take time, to say no without explaining or apologising, to make people believe in my humility. The most taxing part of my feminism is not fighting others but resisting my own conditioning. Through poems I write, plays I act in, reporting I do and books (like The Courage to be Disliked) I read, I am constantly schooling myself that I can be who I want to be, that I do not have to be who I am supposed to be according to gender roles.

So, while meninists would like to believe that our claws are pointed at them, the truth is we are more engrossed in a nail biting battle to peel away our own conditioning. For the longest time, this truth used to piss me off. Eventually, as promised, it has started setting me free because this phenomenon reiterates that patriarchy is not a monster coming at us whose head needs some slaying. It is a claustrophobia inducing tent that covers all of us, getting hotter with global warming, one that needs to be deflated from within. And if I ever get on pins and needles facing it again, I want to prick it right in the gut and say, “Yes, I have a number and no, I won’t give it to you,” and walk away and without stressing about whether my gait would be seen as haughty.

First published in Firstpost, 9 May 2019.

Five ways to do gender sensitive reporting

1. Use of respectful visuals: Pictures of survivors in torn clothes or hiding their tear stained faces while predatory silhouettes loom over them add to the shame society already imposes on sexual violence survivors. Stock representational images commonly found in media reporting of sexual violence take all power and agency away from survivors, adding to their objectification and, ultimately, to rape culture. Media should instead use empowering images, like those focusing on the culprits, or photographs of protests against such violence, so that survivors feel that their narratives would be told with sensitivity, and more of them come out to report sexual violence.

2. Avoiding victim blaming language: Media trials that declare people as guilty even as investigations or court cases are under way are unethical. At the same time, reporting should not be such that it casts aspersions on the survivor’s account. Instead of writing “the person who allegedly raped”, one can say “the accused”.

3. Maintaining a clear distinction between sex and sexual assault: Terms that describe consensual sexual intimacy between people should not be used when talking about sexual assault. Rape is not sex, groping is not caressing, and so on. When this difference is erased, it dilutes the extremity of the crime and makes it appear as if the survivor were complicit in the violence done to them.

4. Setting the right context: Reports that talk of the victim’s clothes, whether they had sexual relationships in the past . . . all amount to what the Chicago Taskforce Media Toolkit calls “superfluous descriptions”. What deserves to be under the lens is the perpetrator’s action, a deeper study of their history and motivations, pointers that could help a better understanding of rape culture so the approach makes one think of ways of prevention. The Dart Center for Journalism and Trauma also calls for framing of news stories in a way that they are “thematic rather than episodic”.

5. Resources for survivors: The incident of violence and the pursuit of legal justice is one aspect of the story. But what are the options available for survivors who are in need of not only legal and financial but also emotional help? What kind of resources are available for them that would help them not only secure justice but also heal from the trauma? This would provide some much needed information as well as remind the state and society about their responsibility towards survivors.

First published in The Assam Tribune, 17 February 2019.

Unsold

Dear capitalism,
I am a woman
And for quite some time now
You’ve been trying to convince me
That you’re on my side.

You say you respect me
Because you believe in me:
No, not so much in my ability
But in my capacity,
My “purchasing capacity”
To buy your products
Without having to depend on men.

Then you go ahead and tell me
How those products
Would make me a more lucrative product
For those men.
Who writes your copy?

First published in Ethos Literary Journal, November 2018.

My grandfather’s English princess

Meghan Markle’s wedding this year seemed to be an inexhaustible source of articles — celebratory and controversial alike — in the media. But my own thoughts keep floating back to another member of the family whose birthday passed, relatively quietly, in the month of July.

At a book fair, hugging five coffee table books close to my chest, I teared up in gratitude and nostalgia, breathing in their sepia scent. The reason I could buy all of those hardbound editions, offered to me at a great discount, was because not many readers cared for these books on Princess Diana’s life and death — not as my grandfather, my Nana, did.

I had seen my father get such books from England. My grandfather would pore over them intently like a geographer traces the fine lines of a map, charting the route of his next expedition. As I hovered around the exclusive smell of the gloss finish, he would trace for me Diana’s lineage. I was less interested in the family tree and more interested in the affable charm of the princess, as radiant and widespread as the faraway foreign greens framed in our living room, simultaneously creating assurance and aspiration. Admiring Diana’s signature style, for once my short hair didn’t seem like such a bad thing. I became a blazer-skirt loyalist, influenced by her wardrobe, and royally ignored anyone who laughed at me for having worn the two-piece amidst lehengas and salwars on my uncle’s wedding.

Thus, Nana infected me with his penchant for all things British, to the extent that when I joined a publishing house that spelled ‘realise’ with an ‘-ize’, I had a hard time converting.

I wasn’t always a Anglophile, though. Back from college for a vacation at home, I was a hot beaker bubbling with my newfound knowledge. I smirked at Nana's colonial hangover and at what I called his obsession with the British royalty. He wasn’t bothered and I continued to send him similar books from Delhi. My little cousins groaned when I talked to them over the phone, grumbling that Nana would get hold of them and ask them to memorise the entire line of kings and queens.

I did not tell Nana that despite my critique of what my friend Elsie Bryant calls the “British Empire State of Mind”, I still held a secret fascination for the English teacup and other Old Blighty curios, Dorothy Parker’s little things that no one needs. It was just something I learnt to keep to myself, so it did not interfere with my engagement with proletarian politics.

When I was going to Brussels and told Nana that I also intended to visit Paris and Amsterdam, he asked me to forget all that and just go to London and buy myself a nice coat. I told him I couldn’t afford the visa fee for his favoured country, let alone the place. What I did try was introducing a Brit friend to Nana so that he could glean more information about the country and its famed family through my friend’s experiential learning. The conversation came to an awkward halt and Nana went back to his newspaper when he found it too much work to discern the friend’s accent.

The questions I used to pose to Nana as a child gradually made way for the interventions I had to make when he treated Nani, my grandmother, with his patriarchal high-handedness. He would talk of Manusmriti and its approval of gender hierarchies, partially to provoke me, and I would condemn it, so upset at times that I would leave the room before the argument could escalate.

In the middle of all this, Diana remained undisturbed between us, an inviolable presence that would make us rein in our egos. I did not want to read up on her too much — her fanpages apart — lest I should find something disturbing. I would tell myself that it was her and not monarchy I was rooting for, and that I need not do a critical examination because I wasn’t required to vote for her.

When Nana visited me this time and got engrossed in the books, I lingered for the pleasure of seeing him engage with something other than his usual worldly worries. After some time, he looked up, to say: “You know she was hurt by those close to her; she wasn’t happy.” I nodded quietly, choosing to refrain from talking about the complexity of relationships, and Nana did not express his well-known disapproval of divorce. For the sake of the princess, in that moment, we agreed to a truce.

First published in thREAD, The Hindu, 22 October 2018.

श्रीमती जी नहीं

एक दिन फेसबुक पर एक पुरुष मित्र ने मुझे एक वीडियो में टैग किया। लिंक खोलने पर मैंने देखा कि फिल्म में कई मर्द उन सारी चीजों के लिए माफ़ी माँग रहे थे जो औरत होने के नाते हमें इस समाज में झेलनी पड़ती हैं। हाल में इंटरनेट पर चले#metoo अभियान में भी कई मर्दों ने अपनी महिला दोस्तों का साथ दिया। 

ऐसे कई पुरूष हैं जो नारीवाद से डरते नहीं दिखते। उनसे बात करके लगता है कि वे औरत-मर्द के भेद-भाव को खत्म करने की ज़रूरत को समझते हैं। बराबरी के इस आंदोलन में शामिल होने की कोशिश भी करते हैं। फिर भी ज़बान कभी-कभी फिसल जाती है, वे कुछ ऐसा कह या कर जाते हैं जो इस बराबरी की मुहिम में ठीक नहीं बैठता और आप इस तरफ़ उनका ध्यान आकर्षित करते हैं। 

आप सोचते हैं कि एक सुलझे हुए इंसान होने के नाते वो खुले मन से इस पर आपसे चर्चा करेंगे। आपकी उम्मीद ये नहीं कि वे समस्या के हर पहलू से पहले से वाकिफ़ हों। आप इस आस में हैं क्योंकि वे समझदार और संवेदनशील हैं, वे ये मानेंगे कि जिनकी आवाज़ जाति, धर्म, जेंडर जैसे सामाजिक ढाँचों की वजह से हमेशा बुलंद रही, अब उन्हें कमरे में थोड़ा पीछे बैठकर दूसरों की आवाज़ को सब्र से सुनना होगा (हाँलाकि ये कतई ज़रुरी नहीं कि हाशिए वाले हमेशा सही ही हों)। पर आपके ऐसे कोई भी सवाल उठाने पर इनमें से बहुत लोग बिफ़र पड़ते हैं, "अब ये हद से ज़्यादा हो रहा है।"

हदें भी उनकी बनाई हुई, कम-ज़्यादा भी उनका। उस पल में वे आपके हमसफ़र नहीं होते जो कुछ समय पहले तक आपसे कदम-से-कदम मिला कर "लक्ष्य को हर हाल में पाना है" गुनगुना रहे थे। उनको ये वहम हो जाता है कि आप उन्हीं की पीठ के ऊपर छलाँग मारकर उन्हें पछाड़ने के मंसूबे बना रहे हैं। उस वक्त वे एक झुँझलाए हुए धनवान और आप एक लालची, एहसानफ़रामोश याचक बन जाते हैं। 

जाति/धर्म के मामले में भी ये बहुत होता है। पीढ़ियों से ऊँचे दर्जों पर बैठे लोग उन लोगों के हकों को लेकर नियम और सीमाएँ बनाते हैं जो उतने ही लंबे समय से शोषित रहे हैं। ज़ाहिर है कि पितृसत्ता/सामंतवाद का ये संदेश महिला या पुरुष, किसी के भी ज़रिए आप तक पहुँचाया जा सकता है।

अक्सर इस खीज से गुज़री हूँ जब औरत-मर्द की ग़ैर-बराबरी का विरोध करते हुए मुझे बताया गया है कि मैं फ़िज़ूल बातों पर वक़्त की ऐसी-तैसी कर रही हूँ और "बड़े" मुद्दे मेरे हाथों से फिसले चले जा रहे हैं। यहाँ एक "छोटा" उदाहरण देना चाहूँगी ये दर्शाने के लिए कि क्यों नारीवाद "छोटी" बातों के लिए भी इतना लड़ता है।

एक साहित्य महोत्सव में कई पुरुष लेखकों और कुछ महिला लेखकों को बुलाया गया। प्रचार सामग्री में पुरुषों के केवल नाम थे। जो औरतें थी उन सबके नाम के आगे "श्रीमती" लगा था। अपने नाम के आगे भी ये देखकर मेरा सर क्यों भन्नाया?

इस सूची में जब कोई पुरुषों का नाम पढ़ता तो उसे इस क्रम में ये जानकारी प्राप्त होती: अमुक नाम का लेखक इस सम्मेलन में आनेवाला है। महिलाओं का नाम पढ़कर इस क्रम में ये पता लगता: एक विवाहित महिला, जिसका नाम . . . है, और जो एक लेखक "भी" (विवाहित होने के बाद) है, सम्मेलन में आनेवाली है।

पुरुष की पहचान के लिए सिर्फ़ "नाम (और काम) ही काफ़ी है"। और एक महिला के बारे में सबसे पहले ये जानना ज़रूरी है कि वो एक पुरुष से किस प्रकार जुड़ी (या अन-जुड़ी) है। ये बात मेरे लिए बिलकुल नाक़ाबिले बर्दाश्त है और रहेगी। इसको लोग छोटा या मोटा, जैसा भी मसला आँकें ये उन पर है। मैं इसे तवज्जो देती रहूँगी।

हाँ, ये ज़रूर है कि कार्यक्रम संचालक ने इस दिक्कत को समझा और आगे इसे दूर करने की कोशिश की। पर कई पुरुषों ने जब इस किस्से को सुना तो तुरंत समझाने लगे कि कैसे ये एक छोटे मामले को तूल देना हुआ, और किस तरह उनका ज्ञान मेरे जिये गए अनुभव से बढ़कर है। 

कुछ ऐसा ही हुआ मेरे ब्रह्म समाजी विवाह को लेकर। हमारा विवाह एक "आचार्य" संपन्न करानेवाले थे। एक बड़े दफ़्तर में ऊँचे पद पर काम करनेवाले वे हल्की मुस्कान, धीमी आवाज़, कुर्ते-पायजामे वाले सज्जन अपने शीतल स्वभाव के कारण हमें तुरंत भा गए। काफ़ी गर्व से उन्होंने बताया कि कैसे ब्रह्म समाज में औरत-मर्द को ऊपर-नीचे नहीं रखा जाता। उन्होंने नमूने के तौर पर किसी के विवाह की पत्रिका दी जिसमें विवाह रीतियों को समझाया गया था। आनेवाले दिनों में मेरा साथी आचार्य से ईमेल और फोन पर जुड़ा रहा। हमने कुछ वचनों-रीतियों में बदलाव किए जिससे उन्हें कोई परेशानी नहीं थी।

शादी के कुछ दिनों पहले मैंने देखा कि एक प्रतिज्ञा में "भाईचारा" शब्द का प्रयोग किया गया था। मैं वैसे औरतों के बारे में चाहे जितना भी सोच लूँ, ऐसे किसी शब्द को पढ़ने-सुनने पर उस चित्र में मैं महिलाओं की कल्पना नहीं कर पाती। इसे बदलने के लिए झिझक और विनम्रता के साथ आचार्य से बात की। (झिझक इसलिए क्योंकि नारीवादी होने से किसी बुज़ुर्ग, या पुजारी जैसी हस्ती को, खासकर अगर वो मर्द हो, को नाराज़ करने का बचपन में पढ़ाया गया ड मन से पूरी तरह नहीं गया।) मेरी बात सुन वे कुछ झल्ला कर बोले, "भाषा ऐसी ही होती है। तुम भाषा को नहीं बदल सकती। अगर तुम्हारे पास बेहतर शब्द है तो तुम बताओ।" 

मैंने उनसे ये नहीं कहा कि भाषा ठंडी हवा के मासूम झोंके की तरह यूँ ही इधर-उधर टहलटी नहीं पाई जाती, सोच-समझ कर गढ़ी जाती है। उसका एक इतिहास, एक राजनीति होती है। मैंने बस कहा कि मैं कोई और शब्द ढूँढ़ने का प्रयास करूँगी। थोड़ी देर बाद जब मैंन "अपनापन" शब्द सुझाया तो वे तुरंत मान गए। 

क्या शुरू में वे इसलिए नाराज़ हुए थे क्योंकि हम तीन-चार बार भाषा में संशोधन करवा चुके थे? या अगर पहले की तरह मेरा साथी, एक पुरुष, उनसे इस बारे में बात करता तो उनका रवैया कुछ और होता? 

जब लोग अपनेआप को किसी सोच, सिद्धांत या अंदोलन का समर्थक बताते हैं तो ये उम्मीद ग़लत है कि समर्थन पानेवाले केवल एहसान मानें और उनके तरीकों पर सवाल न करें। ये सही नहीं कि वे हमारे महसूस किए हुए सच को छोटा बताएँ, ख़ासकर तब जब उनके-हमारे तजुर्बे बहुत अलग हैं।  

ऑस्ट्रेलिया की ऐक्टिविस्ट लीला वॉट्सन ने बहुत पते की बात कही है, "अगर तुम यहाँ मेरी मदद करने आए हो तो तुम अपना समय बर्बाद कर रहे हो। पर अगर तुम इसलिए आए हो क्योंकि तुम्हारी मुक्ति मेरी आज़ादी के साथ जुड़ी हुई है, तो आओ, साथ मिलकर काम करें।"

First published in Samayantar, Jun 2018.