Sex is sex, not a game of power
Like thousands of others, I read the comments of Mukesh Singh, the driver of the bus in which Nirbhaya was raped, with shock bordering on dismay. While little better is expected from the man who was part of one of the most diabolical crimes in recent memory, one had still hoped for a modicum of penitence. That the lawyer representing him endorsed Mukesh's remarks makes the situation all the more saddening. Even as the conversation on rape since that grim December 16 night has moved forward several notches, we still come across the large-scale prevalence of rape narratives that put the onus on the girl, and question a girl's right to live and work freely in this country. Of course, women's rights operate within a larger framework than just safety and security in India because of the enduring misogyny of our social practices. From female feticide to dowry, we continue to inhabit the dark ages.
It might be tempting to say that this is a class issue, an argument that may hold some merit given the social background of Nirbhaya's rapists. But there is no proven correlation between class and attitudes towards women. Even anecdotal evidence suggests no such link. Several poor people raise their girls with fondness and vigour, while several middle class families discriminate against the girl child. How do we as a society move beyond this oppressive narrative? Education in school is important, as are government-sponsored schemes, areas where the Modi government has shown welcome alacrity. Yet, women's rights continue to be marred by dominant social thinking which is unhelpful to women's freedom at best and condemns it at worst. While education can certainly help, social norms are surprisingly hard to overcome, and only generational shifts may bring about substantive change.
What is our first understanding of gender as a society? We grow up hearing of sex as a power play in which the man's role is of the victor and the woman's of the vanquished. This is reflected in the most casual of our conversations. When we want to make fun of someone we subject them to expletives which derive from the Hindi terms for the vagina. Words such as "c**tiya" and "bh**sadi" are thrown about to indicate to the recipient that he has lost even when the context is not sexual.
This linguistic technique extends to the act of sex. "Usne meri le li" which indicates loss of virginity is meant to convey defeat. But the sexual position of the defeated party here is of the submissive partner. "Maine paper phod diya", for example, indicates doing well on the exam but refers unabashedly to the act of f*cking. These highly objectionable words echo the deep-rooted beliefs that we as a culture do nothing to negate.
To a gay man, this dichotomy can be especially jarring. Gay men's understanding of sex and gender roles is so different from the off-the-cuff misogyny surrounding us that we can often feel as if we were living among aliens. This is not merely, as might be imagined, a function of our sexual preferences. It affects our sexual choices too. My decision to bottom in bed (get f*cked) was a culmination of what I had always seen myself as. It was one of the most tender moments of my coming out process. It was beautiful, and it brought me closer to my female friends. I could finally see what "that" was all about.
But of course, the world around me was telling me different. Men f*ck, right? Only sissies take it up the bum. No matter. I wanted to be a sissy. I wanted to own that word and whatever came with it. And I did. I happily and gloriously did and that has defined me ever since.
To make a rather delicate analogy, I adopted the woman's position in bed. But I have never felt insecure about my safety on that account. To even imagine so would be hilarious. Being an Indian is so strange. I don't know whether I should consider myself unlucky because of Section 377 or lucky because my being a man gives me the tools to do what I want with my body even if the pleasure I seek is "feminine". I have often wondered if a sort of shock therapy needs to be administered to the debate on gender equality. Turn the tables on the head, as it were. If everything about the woman's role in sex is jeered in this country, why not go out and celebrate that submission? Why not positively demand it?
Maybe that is the way to go about it. For men to go out hammer and tongs and claim their right to be f*cked. To show that sex is sex, not a game of power. That it is the most beautiful expression of the intimacy between two people, not who puts what where and how. By having a national debate on Section 377, and by stressing our right to be f*cked however we deem fit, there is a possibility that sex might be taken beyond the gender binary and the concomitant role plays it supposedly fosters.
Gay rights then are women's rights. Indian society affords us men so many privileges just for having a dick that the act of getting f*cked can be subversive and potentially ideology-shifting. We need to rid the act of the social and linguistic stigma it presently carries. We need to have this conversation now.