Films like ‘Queen’, ‘English Vinglish’, ‘NH10’ and ‘Mary Kom’ are a part of the current upsurge of discussions regarding different feminisms in Bollywood. But mere representation cannot be the ideal for feminism, says Soumabrata Chatterjee.
If Bollywood had its own chic version of Marx lurking behind all the glitz, he would have climbed a roof by now and proclaimed in a loud shrill voice that the spectre of feminism is haunting his abode. The Indian film industry has had a strange relationship with the subject and politics of feminism, but it has never before showcased unabashed love and support for the movement. It has always resembled a cat-and-mouse sequence, with the thrill of the chase undermining the instincts for cohabitation.
Suddenly, however, there has been an upsurge of discussions regarding different feminisms in Bollywood and the culture industry that accompanies it. Be it Parineeti Chopra scolding a 24-year-old male journalist for knowing nothing about the menstrual cycle, or Shenaz Treasurywala’s sinfully boring rant of a letter to “the most powerful and influential MEN in our country”, or ghoulish literature and Shobhaa Dé novels passing off as symbols of female sexual liberation, or Rekha’s bizarre outburst over the derelict treatment of the country’s “super naanis”, or the row over one shot of Deepika Padukone’s cleavage when so many others already exist on the Internet, everything seems to have become ‘feminism-ed’.
In the midst of all this, MensXP comes out with a list with the following introduction: “What’s the first thing you notice in a woman? Okay, there’s nobody around, you can say it out loud. B-r-e-a-s-t-s, yes! MensXP brings to you the best racks in Bollywood, ‘hand-picked’ by us!” I love the ‘meta’ element in this statement. It is awesomely self-referential in the manner that an online article claims the “nobody-is-around” situation. Because whatever our private desires might be, we must be good feminists in public.
When Roadies has a female contestant among its final five, people just applaud the fact that she is there for the sake of representation, right before she is eliminated and the final task is between two guys.
Just consider how Deepika Padukone has refashioned herself as a leading female icon. She tweets against angled-photo discrimination, features in the ‘My Choice’ video dressed in black with hair flowing like some Sunsilk-approved desi Rapunzel, acts in films that have credible female roles where she actually has something to do rather than dance around in the shadow of her male co-stars.
Don’t get me wrong. Bollywood has consistently delivered female-centric films in the last five years. There is Queen, English Vinglish, Mary Kom, and the more recent NH10. But count me as one of the dissidents, because wherever I look, be it television shows and films, there seems to be a discursive formation of a certain kind of “female power.” When Roadies has a female contestant among its final five, people just applaud the fact that she is there for the sake of representation, right before she is eliminated and the final task is between two guys. It seems that these symbols of feminism function as captive figures in a much larger neo-capitalist economy.
Representation is a primary issue in the late capitalist political economy, but it should not be given predominance over every form of action. Mere representation cannot be the ideal for feminism. Action coupled with representation can usher in a dawn of equality. Anything less and what we have is just less pretty-looking simulation, one which catches the urge for rebellion in its self-image of implosion.
Representation is a primary issue in the late capitalist political economy, but it should not be given predominance over every form of action.
There is a politics of conformation and understanding, but it doesn’t work unless the parties involved have some kind of equal footing. Feminism, at least its Bollywood version, needs to understand that it cannot support the patriarchal structure by producing a barrage of mindless films with hapless, haphazard women in them and suddenly redeem itself with a few films where the woman has a story to tell and her actions define the narrative. It is just playing into the hands of the Foucaultian ‘governmentality’, which allows some dissident discourses to seep through its otherwise patriarchal netting, just to keep the lamp flickering in the whirlwind.
Anything and everything about a woman is not feminism. Even as a coherent gender category in a box, the identity of ‘woman’ is tethered to the reality round us. Just as equality for women does not mean the absence of it regarding males, every achievement by a woman needn’t be straitjacketed into that neoliberal logic of progression. I am not saying that one shouldn’t celebrate an individual choice or achievement, but to think that the success of certain women from specific caste-class identities can represent the holistic improvement of a gender is illusory. Moreover, women issues are not just limited to elements of physicality like sexual independence or the right to wear Western clothes. It extends into the psycho-sexual category whereby a woman is gendered to act in a certain way. It also extends beyond the largely cosmetic realm of city-based issues. I believe there is a dire need for the hash tag #notfeminism for everything that just takes up the final moment of triumph for a Mary Kom or a Saina Nehwal and obliterates the histories of oppression that the person has overcome to reach this point. It seems that the movement is being transformed into a corporate driven, market-oriented industry, which reduces feminism to its weakest self.
While these things are in vogue, a Madras HC judge orders a rape victim who is a minor to marry her rapist in search of a “happy conclusion”. It is not the responsibility of Bollywood and its fraternity to speak out against every form of social oppression, and neither is it mine. But what we can do is strive to be a little more sensitive to what the politics of such a feminism might be.
These feminisms don’t always form a compact structure like they do in Bollywood. If they do, that’s a sham.
What is the history of feminism talking about? What cultures of oppression and caste issues fall under its rubric? What does it entail to be a feminist? Does it allow us to judge Sunny Leone, as a leading actor once did on the couch of Karan Johar’s talk show when he was asked what would he do if he chanced upon Sunny in his bedroom and he replied, “the usual”? What is “usual” for such actors who have worked in the porn industry? What is “usual” for those feminists who are not “beautiful”? What is the benchmark for Dalit feminism? Where do we set them beside our West-borrowed Anglo-American feminism? What are the class issues of these films which form the pattern of feminist intervention? Is it ‘poor’ and ‘rich’, Dalits as a coherent category and non-Dalits, non-normative sexualities and normative ones, persons with disabilities? Can these categories be totally self-sufficient, or do they have divisions within their existence? How do we discern them?
We discern them by understanding that like every other social history out there, feminism has different, variant versions. These feminisms don’t always form a compact structure like they do in Bollywood. If they do, that’s a sham. Remember Shabana Azmi playing the witch in Makdee, or the more recent Ek Thi Daayan? Those feminisms are not attractive in the loose heteronormative sense of the term. Those are difficult, venomous avatars of what ‘good’ feminism is supposed to be.
There is a folk tale about a woman who has teeth in her vagina. Hence, she becomes a vagina dentata. In cultural usage, this folksy, mythical woman becomes that feared female who devours the phallus and leaves the man castrated. In simpler terms, she is one of the women who can annihilate the masculine potential and thus reign supreme.
Some feminisms are celebrated, marketed, even adored. Others are just not quite there yet.
However, this figure is not one which is admired. Much like the dialectic of Kali vs Durga, the good, homely fair skinned woman this comparison goes deep into the human psyche. In Rushdie’s novel Shame, the main character is decapitated on his wedding night by his wife who has metamorphosed into an animal after having psychotic episodes. This fear of being castrated, of losing the masculine pride before a feminine ideal, is what constitutes the ‘bad’ feminism.
We catch a slight glimpse of her in Kangana Ranaut’s Revolver Rani, where she toys around with her submissive boyfriend, a struggling actor. The film had to vindicate its male protagonist and his frustration by making him the person who betrays her and shoots her in the end. But nonetheless, it has that destructive feminine ideal which is not good for cohabitation, it doesn’t compromise and is violently beautiful in its despotic tendencies. However, this is different from the Mardaani version, where the feminine potential for defiance is celebrated in terms of the masculine brawn.
I understand there can’t be any strict difference between good and bad feminisms. In fact there isn’t. Rather it’s a case of some Kanganas being accepted and some other Kanganas regarded as B-grade entertainment, like her psychotic roles before these films. Some feminisms are celebrated, marketed, even adored. Others are just not quite there yet. But the spectre is here. Hopefully the haunts will follow.
