I feel uneasy everytime I see a South Asian couple announce the birth of their first born daughter. A family friend of my parents comes to mind – their daughter was called a ‘miracle’ after they tried for years. A few years later they had a son. This young girl would take the role of mediator for arguments, a “second mother” to her brother while holding the weight of her family’s issues. Yet, it would be their son to carry their name down and carry their “legacy”. I particularly had the same experience, raising my little brother was expected of me. Packing his lunches, cleaning his mess, cooking what he wants and tolerating his behaviour while my parents defend him. I always knew there was a discrepancy between how my parents raised my younger brother and I differently. I believed it was just their way of parenting. This belief slowly wore off as I got older and realised there was a particular experience as a desi daughter, and how misogyny is rooted in our community.
From an insider’s perspective, the rampant misogyny is something that I’ve been exposed to since a child. As a person born female, from an early age you are told what your place is as a woman. You will marry a man who your parents choose, tossed like an object from father to husband. Your name is never your own: you are born and you take your fathers name, and when you are married you take your husband’s name. You don’t smile in your wedding photos. You are expected to live with your in-laws, who will exploit you for house chores and work. You have no choice but to bring children into the world. You never get what you want or need and your purpose is to make your family happy.
Hearing stories like this made me realise that the “traditional” way of a woman’s life designates them to gendered roles. They only amount to marriage and motherhood. In today’s world, South Asian women are empowered to have an education and work, but there are still misogynistic elements and ideas in the South Asian community. Every ethnic group faces misogyny, but I knew there was something different in the South Asian community.
Colonialism has had an impact on how the South Asian community views women. An outcome that is most mentioned is the way saris were worn without a blouse due to the heat. The British upheld their modest and christian values, and thus the sari blouse was enforced upon women. This sexualised women in an institutional way and was a form of control and subordination. The transgender community, named Hijras, were also victims of the British. The Hijras have existed in South Asia for thousands of years, but their identity did not conform to their oppressor’s values. The British described them as a “breach of public indecency” and placed anti-Hijra laws. The laws enforced by colonial power nullified expression of women, and ultimately became the new norm in our society. In an inability to resist a foreign regime, the community’s values have changed their views about women and gender. This in return impacts misogyny to even a familial standard. It is more oppressing if you’re a trans woman in a South Asian family, as colonial powers have also vilified transgender people.
Many ancient murals and sculptures of Hindu deities show nude caricatures, both men and women. Many Hindu gods are depicted as powerful and feminine presenting. Kali Ma – the goddess of time, change, creation, power, destruction and death – has a garland of heads and a carries a scimitar. She is known as a divine protector and the one who bestows liberation. Hindu goddesses represent an equal energy with their male counterparts and have a rich backstory. Our culture is, and always has been, rooted in misogyny. Yet, the portrayal of hindu goddesses I can’t help but feel like ancestors were more open minded.
Misogyny is an inevitable experience. It impacts us institutionally, and compromises our safety and way of living. There is a very distinct type of misogyny in the South Asian community, stemming from the ideologies of a colonial power. They have controlled us, have impacted our own values and the way our own community views us. My experience as a South Asian daughter is common for all South Asians who were raised as a daughter. These values will keep being passed down as generational trauma, unless we change the way our community’s view of women-aligned people.
