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This is an adaptation of a paper presented at a regional seminar entitled Health, Power, Media and Rights: from Gender
Perspectives at the Rose
Garden Hotel in Bangkok, Thailand, from February 15-23. Organised by the
Swedish institutions CENTEK, FOJO, the Karolinska Institute and the Raoul
Wallenberg Instititute, and sponsored by SIDA, it brought together 40
Asian women – from Thailand, Vietnam, China, the Philippines,
Mongolia, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Laos, Malaysia, Nepal and
India – in a practical applications workshop to identify areas in
health, management, media and human rights that need the greatest
attention and to exchange ideas on what actually could be done to act
upon them.
At the
workshop, the paper was peppered with readings, notably from Suniti
Namjoshi's Aditi and the One-Eyed Monkey and Ambai's short story
Clear Sky published in a collection called One World (both published
by Tulika, Chennai). Clear Sky is a culturally relevant story. It
talks about caste, apart from gender, there are language specific
references, and so on. Yet, the response to it from a mixed ethnic audience
with little or no exposure to India and things Indian, was remarkable in
terms of level of understanding, curiosity about issues, feelings of
similarity, feeling for linguistic and semantic nuances – which only goes to show what a good, well-written piece of writing
can do for a reader.
There are two
issues suggested by the title of this piece, one leading to the other.
Let us start by assuming a few things:
1.
Literacy is a must for all people, young and old, across the
board, in all countries.
2.
Many of the problems we face with respect to literacy are
common to many of our
countries.
3.
Literacy means competence in reading and writing and not simply
the ability to recognise
bus numbers and sign your name. We're talking here of reading literacy.
4.
Defined in this way, we find that literacy levels in several
developed countries too are
cause for concern, especially in an electronic age where the printed word
often battles
weakly against the vim and vigour of
television, computers, video and other multimedia
platforms.
5.
This brings us to what I consider the most important feature:
the pro-active role of reading
in the lives of all those who can read.
From
my experience as a journalist, writer and editor of children's books,
I see how important it is to ensure that we engender a generation of
reading children who will then grow up into reading adults. Only
then can we can focus
specifically on women and reading. The concern here, therefore, is not just
'Are children reading?' but 'What are they reading?'
Maybe an example from our experience with working with children will
explain the difference. Some
months ago, my colleague and I visited a middle-level school in Chennai
to do a story reading with 10-11 year olds as part of a reading
promotion programme. We asked the
children what books they read, who their favourite authors were and so
on. All our questions were met with silence. We thought maybe they
were shy so we gently prodded them, offered suggestions – still,
silence. After about 10 minutes of this, one tentative voice said
something. Another echoed this. A few heads nodded. They were talking
about a lesson in their English Reader, which they had managed to
identify as being their favourite story. That was the extent of their
reading. The English Reader only because they had to pass exams.
That was it. We were shocked.
On a visit once
to villages in Tamilnadu. I met a dalit child, Vedamirtham, about 12
years old. Surprised and curious by her admission that her favourite
subject was English, I managed to persuade her to read from her
textbook. All that emerged was a babble of sounds.
Now,
Vedamirtham is a first generation learner and we know there are many issues in play here.
But in essence, these
two experiences, the urban one and the rural one, point to one thing:
reading illiteracy.
Going
to a third example: an 8-year old child
had to talk about the Indian flag at his school's Independence Day
celebrations, a 2 or 3 minute affair. The
child worked on the speech and learnt it off by heart. It was easy
then to come up to the mike and talk. It sounded quite
natural. But someone later asked the child if he liked to
read. "Yes," he said. "It shows," she replied.
It
was actually quite simple. Lots
of children made speeches that day, and many sounded as though they
had mugged up their lines without understanding any of it. This child
sounded as though he understood what he was saying.
What
was it this child had that the other children did not? Not just the
ability to read, but the power of reading. This intangible power is
what makes a tangible difference to the lives of children and adults.
Because reading empowers. The place of reading in making the world's
illiterate literate cannot be overstated. We realise that it is not
merely a question of going to school. There are too many who cannot
read in a way that will enrich and empower them. They read, but
without meaning, comprehension, discrimination.
What is so empowering about reading
anyway? Well
for one, it is a fundamental right. It enables us to
improve the status and quality of our lives. A
person who can read has more in her grasp and this leads to a sense of
well being. It also leads to social justice, especially with respect
to gender discrimination. It gives a
chance not only to equality but also to fight injustices and
inequities. It opens up opportunities. A true reader has
understanding, perspective, and the ability to examine, evaluate,
weigh and judge, draw conclusions. With all these abilities, we learn
how to participate actively and meaningfully in real democracy.
Reading, therefore, is an important tool of political
participation.
The
Zimbabwean writer Chiedza Musengezi said to me once, "People don't mind
buying beautiful clothes for their children but will not spare a
thought to buy books. It's time people worried about their children's
intellect. Because reading puts words at the command of
children."
Words
at our command. Such a powerful tool. The positive reinforcement it promises can be had
only if we take the trouble to read and enable others to read too. As
Chiedza went on to say, "Reading makes for better citizens
because it makes it difficult to manipulate them."
Citizenship, then, needs
readers and good citizenship, good readers, a point made with great
force by writer/critic Victor Watson: "The
connection between reading and citizenship does not often press itself
on our attention. A nation can for years delude itself with the idea
that fiction is an entrepreneurial sideshow of the publishing
industry; then a single work unexpectedly assumes an international
significance and reminds us of the powers of fiction to win allegiance
or influence hatred, to set racial or religious communities against
one another, and provoke street demonstrations, book burning and
threats of violence." This is the power we are talking about. And
it happens because reading is an intense, private exercise. It cannot
be dictated because it happens
in your own mind. What you read may be monitored but not how you read. That is the
source of our empowerment.
Reading helps break down barriers and
stereotypes because it helps us imagine the lives of others. We see
people through books as individuals, with flaws and idiosyncrasies, so much like ourselves,
and once we do this we reach beyond stereotypes and are in
a position to break down barriers. Reading connects us and helps us know each other.
One
question we might ask is: aren't literacy programmes run by
governments and non-government organisations already doing this? Yes
and no, because their programmes are simply too huge to negotiate the
intangible thing we are talking about. It is for
people like us, through books and writing about books and reading, to
shoulder that responsibility.
With that
thought, to get on to the second question: What happens if you are a girl?
Have
you noticed how when a boy or a man is reading, the elders in the
house make out like he's doing something of great consequence? But if a girl or a
woman is reading, she is wasting her time. Have you noticed? This is
the theme of a poem by feminist/activist Kamla Bhasin called, You're
a Girl: Why Must You Read? (translated from the original Hindi):
Father
to Daughter: Read? You? What do you want to read for?
It's
enough if my sons read, why on earth must you, a girl?
Daughter
to Father: Well, since you ask, listen.
Because
I am a girl
I
must read
Because
I am not allowed to, I must read
I
feel, so I must read
My
dreams stretch out to me, so I must read
Because
I am a girl
I
must read
I
must not lose my way wandering, so I must read
I
must stand on my feet, so I must read
I
must fight my fears, so I must read
Because
I am a girl
I
must read
I
must oppose exploitation, so I must read
Change
laws, make new religions
Turn
everything around
Because
I am a girl
I
must read
Learn
from the wise
Sing
the songs of Mira
Write
my own melodies
This
is not the age of the illiterate, the unlettered
Because
I am a girl
I
must read
So
then, what happens if you are a girl? The bicycle revolution of
Pudukottai would set things in perspective. More than 85 per cent of those who
lived in Pudukottai district, chronically drought-prone, were abysmally poor. Stone quarrying
was the main source of
livelihood and mostly women work dreadful hours and worse conditions
in the 450 quarries there. A total literacy campaign
covering nearly 2 lakh women in the district was launched there a few
years ago. In 1991, when contractors did not bid above the minimum
price set by the government to quarry there, the district collector
decided to lease the quarries to over 4000 women. They rose to the
challenge because the literacy programme had not only helped them
acquire basic educational skills, they had also in the process come to
grips with leadership, decision making, management and business
organisation. As a symbol of their 'liberation', they learned to ride
bicycles. It made a wonderful picture in the newspapers, these women
in their saris riding their bicycles because they had found a way to
break free of exploitation. And
yes, the district collector was a woman.
Over
the years, what have women and girls seen of themselves in the stories
they have heard? Take the Panchatantra, the oldest extant body of
literature for children and which is believed to have travelled to
many parts of the globe. Still invigorating, still popular: yet,
talking of the Panchatantra in an article published in the newsletter
of the Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children (AWIC),
writer Swapna Dutta says, "The Panchatantra and
Hitopadesa
give an extremely unfair, prejudiced, unbalanced and lopsided
portrayal of women. Whenever and wherever women are mentioned, they
are either betrayers, cheats, untruthful, unscrupulous, blindly
passionate and in the arms of someone they shouldn't be. Wherever
there are men and women, it is always lust, liaison and betrayal and
that too by women. When a woman is mentioned singly, she is described
as one who has no right to exist on her own and who lives just for a
man's pleasure. That she should be under her father when young, under
her husband thereafter and finally under her son because she is
incapable of existing on her own."
To
sample something of what she is talking about, here are a couple of
examples from from
Arthur W Ryder's translations. From the story Merchant Strong Tooth:
The
logs will glut the hungry fire
The
rivers glut the sea's desire
And
death with life be glutted, when
The
flirt has had enough of men.
No
chance, no corner dark
No
man to woo
Then,
holy sage, you find
A
woman true.
In
another story called The Weaver's Wife, the lines go like this:
Behold
the faults with woman born
Impurity,
and heartless scorn
Untruth,
and folly, reckless heat
Excessive
greediness, deceit.
Be
not enslaved by women's charm
Nor
wish them growth in power to harm
Their
slaves, of manly feeling stripped
Are
tame, pet crows whose wings are clipped.
Honey
in a woman's words
Poison
in her breast
So
although you taste her lip
Drub
her in the chest.
Usually these kinds of stories are left
out of Panchatantra anthologies for children. It was a shock,
therefore, to find a rather objectionable tale, typically, of a woman
who thinks she has "cuckolded" her "brahmin"
husband, in a recently published illustrated anthology. The story ends
with the lines:."The
clever brahmin caught hold of the lover, gave him a good thrashing and
kicked out his unfaithful wife." Even if the story the story was
included "by mistake", there is no excuse for its sexist,
stereotypical, cliche-ridden, politically completely incorrect thrust.
What
stories like these show is that if you are a girl you lie outside the
experience of reading. It is almost as if women simply do not exist and
therefore it does not matter what you say about them. If we believe
that we read books in order to find ourselves (or we find ourselves in
the books we read, whichever is more appropriate) and since we don't
exist in the Panchatantra-type tales, where else can a girl look to
find her voice? In school textbooks? And what does she find there?
It
is generally accepted that gender stereotyping is, in principle, to be
avoided. The reality is often inconsistent with this ruling. In a
study quoted by the Public Report on Basic Education in India (PROBE)
Oxford University Press (OUP), 1999 report, a class three Hindi textbook, for instance, had 49 pictures of men or boys doing
things like being a scientist, a soldier, a doctor, a teacher, a king,
a poet. In contrast there were 14 girls, invariably doing standard
female roles such as tying a
rakhi to her brother, fanning a king and so on.
What
happens in the folktales? In male-centred tales, women are no more
than pawns or prizes or helpers in a man's life. Women-centred
tales generally have women saving, rescuing, or reviving a man, often
solving riddles on his behalf. Often in retellings, the patriarchal
approach takes over and the intrinsic strength or integrity of the
women characters is watered down. Thai researcher Boonsri Cheevakumjorn,
writing in the international children's journal, Bookbird, talked
about a study she had done of Thai books for children. She found that gender-specific roles
were typical of Thai folktales. Female figures were often more
inclined to compromise than male characters. They forgave their rivals
or asked forgiveness to save the villains' lives. They were also far
less inclined toward confrontation. Females were under-represented in incidents
involving pro-social behaviour.
Just look at
collections of folktales and the argument will become clear. See how
women are depicted. Watch out for how stories are resolved.
Much
of the literature for children being published in our part of the
world comprises moral stories, textbooks, stories from the oral
tradition, and folktales. We have seen what is on offer for a girl who
wants to read and none of it is particularly promising or inspiring. Of course,
given a good storyteller, these same themes
can be transformed to reflect the times and subvert old, outdated,
offensive mindsets. There are ways in which this can be done but,
unfortunately, it is the exception rather than the rule.
Yet,
because the stories we read can transform us by helping us imagine
beyond ourselves, we have to continue to search for good stories and
storytellers and pass them on to our readers. For instance, in a
Tulika book called Aditi and the One-Eyed Monkey, author Suniti Namjoshi shows how a young girl quite naturally sets out on a
perilous journey to find and slay a dragon. Her friends on this
journey are an elephant, a monkey and an ant (the only male in the
group). Nothing in the story is overstated – not the plot, not the
characterisation, not the gender roles. It is a thrilling adventure
tale, equally for girls and boys, women and men.
These are the books in which
girls find their own voices, their own images. It is not what stories
say but how they make you feel that makes the difference. Once we
discover ourselves in the books we read, we will go on to find
ourselves in our literature, our poetry, our history, our struggles
and our songs. And then we will write our own literature, our own poetry,
our own history, our own struggles and our own songs. That is what
reading does.
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