A Feminist Manifesto

 

“The knowledge of cooking does not come pre-installed in a vagina. Cooking is learned. Cooking is a life skill that men and women should both ideally have.”

These are the words of the Nigerian writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in her book “Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions”. The book was born when a friend asked Adichie for her advice on how to raise her baby girl, Chizalum, a feminist. Adichie puts together a simple list of invaluable suggestions for every woman and every girl to become more empowered and independent. She highlights some very basic choices that a woman makes in her life, some out of ignorance and some because of societal norms and pressures. Decades of conditioning has made the society assign lopsided roles for both men and women in domestic as well as workplace scenario. Adichie’s list is a gentle reminder that gender roles restrict to only biological necessities like giving birth or breastfeeding a baby and all the other duties and responsibilities are necessarily not just a woman’s.

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I can relate to several instances that she brings up in the book well as many African traditions, customs and social norms match those of Indian. While in Indian context there has been a massive change in the last couple of decades, there is still a large part of the country both in urban as well as rural areas where the subtle gender expectations still exist.

I remember some years ago, when an aunt and uncle were discussing ‘prospective’ brides for their son, they approved of girls from certain districts of Andhra Pradesh but not from certain others. The reason for disapproving girls from those areas was that girls who came from so and so district were very ‘powerful’. A little research revealed that people from these districts were landholders and were hence well educated and women usually owned properties and they were very good with financial decisions at home. Hence there was an imminent threat that they would ‘overpower’ their husbands hence making them ‘hen-pecked’. But if you ask me, these are characteristics of an excellent, skilled and talented woman who, if given an opportunity, would take care of the family successfully. The couple would raise their sons and daughters with equal status. But conditioning makes us feel uncomfortable around any woman who is strong.

I have witnessed over the years similar family conversations that surround the son ‘allowing her daughter-in-law to work’ or ‘We gave our daughter basic education. After her marriage, it is up to the husband to let her continue or not’ or ‘Oh! My son is a very busy doctor. He wants a wife who can take care of home and children’ and the like.

When we were growing up, somebody or the other in the family would advise my mother, “Don’t let your girls choose whatever they want. Some decisions are for parents to make.” Well, if it is only about choosing a school or picking which movie you want to go, it is not dangerous. But if the choice is about who you want to marry or what career you want to choose or whether you want to work or not, the choice HAS to be yours. And thankfully our parents seldom interfered in our lives.

Adichie’s manifesto throws up many such instances which are from a domestic setting and workplace, prejudices expressed through vocabulary, cultural connotations, gender manifestations etc. Her advice to her friend (and all of us with daughters and sons) ranges from personal choices women should make for themselves to the necessity of financial freedom, respecting culture and traditions selectively and teaching her daughter the importance of reading books.

Adichie’s style is very unpretentious, assertive, gentle and evocative. The language is simple and straightforward and the book opens up a series of thoughts and experiences from your own life. Her advice is simple and does not encourage, suggest or express authority or control in the name of gender but simply reminds every one that we are human beings and everyone is entitled to his/her freedom.

The Story of a Woman

“Oh God, it’s so difficult to work wearing a saree”, 20 year old Meenakshi complained to her sister-in-law. She has mopped and swept the entire house, washed the dishes, cooked and packed lunch for her husband. Meenakshi finally finds a breather to have her breakfast along with her sister-in-law who is more or less her age.

With her pregnancy advancing towards final term, she is lately finding it even more difficult to move about in a saree. She is soon drenched in sweat even after a nice cold water bath!

“I feel I should start wearing Praveen’s shirt and pant. Sometime he wears shorts which are so comfortable to move around when you are working”, Meenakshi continued, not realising her mother-in-law, Savita, was sitting right behind her reading a book.

“Hmmm, not a bad idea at all, wearing your husband’s clothes”, interrupted Savita making Meenakshi jump up with a start.

 “But why does a woman have to wear a saree and feel uncomfortable all the time when men are allowed to wear any outfit of their choice?” Savita’s daughter Revati rebelled with a little anger in her voice.

Savita dragged a chair closer to Revati and Meenakshi, as if to share a few life-truths with them.

“You know how convenient a saree is? It has many uses. You can mop your face with the pallu (the dangling end of a saree) when you are sweating; your kids can wipe their hands and face; when you  go into the drawing room to serve coffee and breakfast to your husband and father-in-law, you can wrap your pallu around your head; when the vegetable vendor comes to the front door, you can easily carry the vegetables in your pallu and bring them inside; when your 4-year-old son wants to lie down on your lap, your saree cushions him well and makes him comfortable; when you feel tired while cooking, you can spread the pallu on the floor and take a snooze too!” Savita stopped speaking to take a breath.

“You know something else? At night, you can make your husband very happy when you wear a crisp white saree”, Savita came closer to Meenakshi and whispered in her ear as if passing down a family secret to her daughter-in-law.

Meenakshi’s face blushed when she heard her mother-in-law’s last sentence. Enlightened with the conversation, she picked up the empty plates and glasses to wash them in the backyard and clean the kitchen, all the while humming a song happily under her breath.

And Meenakshi lived happily ever after…

The Story of a Wife

“I don’t know how she is going to learn to adjust in a big family”, Anasuya worried about her daughter. Her husband sighed as if in agreement, gazing at the night sky, lying on his bed.

“I heard they are very well-off. Kamala will be very happy with them. She is intelligent, humble and sings so well. Soon she will make a good impression on her in-laws”, he said finally, shrugging off his worry.  

Kamala was 14 years old when her parents decided to get her married.  She was not quite sure whether she wanted to get married or study further. She grew up watching the other girls in her village getting married at around the same age and thought that was the right thing to do. She was going to miss school though. When she was not in school, she was in the cow shed singing to the cattle or in the backyard playing with her friends. She was very fond of her parents and her village Pedapalli.

“I will miss my friends and my siblings, and the rich and frothy milk that amma gives me every morning and evening”, Kamala said aloud to her friend Andallu one evening. That was the last evening she was permitted to play with her friends before the wedding.

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“I don’t like coffee much. I always used to drink milk from my favourite cup at home,” Kamala said to her mother-in-law.

“Oh! But you are now married. Here everyone drinks coffee.”Lakshmamma said to Kamala, her voice a little stern. “You know you are the daughter-in-law of the house now. You should make the family happy, serve them what they love the most”, she added.

“Yes I know. My mother told me about it.”

“Oh that’s nice. I heard a lot about your parents. Your father is a kind man. He has a very good name in our community. He taught his children well too.”

Kamala beamed hearing her father being appreciated. She was very proud of her parents. She decided immediately that she would work hard to make her parents proud of her too.

“Do you know how to make good filter coffee?” Kamala was shaken out of her deep thoughts with Lakshmamma’s voice next to her.

“Hmm, no I don’t like the taste of coffee. In fact I hate coffee. My mother used to give me fresh milk in my favourite brass tumbler every morning before I went to school.” Kamala replied a little shy.

“Well, now that you are part of this family, you should learn how to make coffee. Your father-in-law and your husband need good coffee every morning. How will you make good coffee when you don’t know how it tastes?Tomorrow morning wake up early and I will teach you how to roast coffee beans and make good filter coffee.”

 Kamala listened intently taking in the instructions obediently nodding her head.

“And you need to stop drinking milk and start drinking coffee. Otherwise you cannot make good coffee for your family”.

And Kamala lived happily ever after…