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A women-only conversation, but for all

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For change to be distinguishable, it must reflect in each layer of our identity, in each environment we are a part of — it must be congruous and consistent.

For change to be distinguishable, it must reflect in each layer of our identity, in each environment we are a part of — it must be congruous and consistent. | Photo Credit: SREEJITH R. KUMAR

As yet another discussion on the androcentric nature of cognitive experiments swept our ever-enthusiastic psychology class, I found myself quietened by a sudden dawning. I scoured the room with keen eyes, scanning the faces of each participant and feeling increasingly ashamed of my evident ignorance. I realised with a jolting taste of reality that our classroom featured no male students. Our discussion on the overrepresented male perspective was destined to be intrinsically unrepresentative. The attempt to unpack the contentious case of lopsided gender representation in an exclusively female classroom would be ironically pointless. This unexpected awakening then impelled me to further investigate my surroundings. I found that biology and English classes too were entirely female. Why did this realisation consume me? Well, if this strange phenomenon was just an interesting coincidence, it was hampering classroom experience — for how could one possibly acutely discuss feminist literary theory devoid of the male voice?

Probes around women in STEM have permeated significant conversations on the influence of gender on career pathways, and we have made some progress (not nearly enough). Then why do we not talk about the stigma against men in the arts and social sciences? Why do we descend to the misogynistic use of “girlish” and “womanly” as labels to demean complex disciplines, and make them uninviting to interested individuals?

Disparities in gender are perhaps more threatening today than they were earlier, for they appear less conspicuous, despite their immutable reality. Gender roles and expectations seem to be less rigidly upheld by the more aware and educated members of society; yet the very essence of these social structures are innately, and perhaps unconsciously, accepted by them. Only recently, I overheard two high school boys discussing the indubitable importance of pursuing a career in the sciences, emphasising to each other the fatal future they would be awaiting if they failed to do so. “Otherwise you won’t get a job anywhere,” I heard one say. Is the pressure to be the stereotypical male breadwinner still the propeller for the customary choice of career? In a society we name progressive and perpetually developing, it seems concerning that the entrenched dichotomy of gender expectations should still plague us. As “Look how far we’ve come!” and “Your generation has it so much better” continue to be yielded only too frequently, I have begun to wonder whether these proclamations aim to console the self more than offer authentic reflections on society.

I recall my grandmother explaining the insufferable lack of opportunity she was presented with at school. “Biology was mostly for girls — physics and chemistry were for the boys,” she said. “But you have so many choices now.” We do. But we still abide by the same rules. Crenshaw’s intersectionality would probably put it this way: we are not merely men or women, or Indians or 21st century citizens of the world — in isolation. Our individual characteristics are not disparate from one another, rather, they naturally interlink, interconnect and intersect. The same woman who enters a classroom that preaches equality is one who has likely experienced blatant inequality outside it. The same man who is taught, at home, that men can find success by pursuing their passions, may be discouraged by the students he meets at school. So we have come far, but not far enough. Our generation is an improvement, but not on all grounds. For change to be distinguishable, it must reflect in each layer of our identity, in each environment we are a part of — it must be congruous and consistent.

As I left my psychology class that morning, I saw an eclipsed penumbra of light arch across a whiteboard that had been covered in notes. A flicker of hope, if incomplete.

shreeya2207@gmail.com

Published – October 13, 2024 04:13 am IST

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