From the extremist CK Raut’s offensive reference to Nepal as a “witch” and a shameless “whore” to Nepal magazine columnist Saurav’s less confrontational but nonetheless subjugating notions of a Nepali lady, epitomised for him by ex-princess Himani and former queen Komal, misogynistic freedom of expression was in freefall this month in Nepal.

We could pass off these expressions as rash gabble, but the popularity of these figures requires a sustained critique. Without some acquiescence from society at large, such views would not exist. In fact, last year, a smiling photo of Himani went viral on social media, being ‘liked’ for the very reasons Saurav considers her a role model for women. Hence, these men provide valuable glimpses into how a culture of misogyny is created and sustained.

“How much these women talk! How much they complain! Of petty things like having to sleep half-starved, of the troubles and abuses they get,” Saurav writes in ‘Dui Nari’ (September 26, Nepal magazine). He questions why women don’t simply emulate Himani and Komal, who, apparently, harboured neither ambition nor engaged in unnecessary activism like social work, but instead, wore a smile like an asset, even in the midst of adversity.

Saurav then becomes a fashion guru, who finds Nepali women wearing something as simple as pants threatening. Apparently, we, unlike western women, have endomorphic bodies that are not suitable for pants. As if Saurav would wear a sari because he is squat. Our feet are also apparently not made for sports shoes, unless we want to look like elephants wearing mufflers. The writer has obviously lost the plot, but he keeps arguing that the issue is not about attire but about the psychological direction it gives to society.

Normalising misogyny

Men’s views on our pahiran are never really about that, but about the psychological ways of subjugating women. It is not that I do not admire a smile or fashion; neither am I advocating that we should walk around with dour faces, perpetually whining. The issue is when these matters are not left up to individual choices but are applied as norms only to women. Even more problematic, as statistics overwhelmingly show, is that women suffer mental and physical violence because of these very norms. Saurav and others like him might not be abusers and I too would have let what he wrote pass as offensive but harmless freedom of expression, if only we did not have women beaten, raped, and abused for wearing the wrong types of clothes, for talking too much, and for not behaving the way they are expected to.

Forty-eight percent of Nepali women in the Mid- and Far-West regions think that a husband is justified in beating his wife for different reasons, including if she argues with her husband. Globally too, Unicef finds that nearly half of all adolescent girls think a husband is justified in hitting his partner. So, “How much they talk?” can quickly change into “I beat her because she was talking too much”. Amnesty International finds that 26 percent of their respondents, even in a developed country like the UK, believe that if a woman is wearing provocative or sexy clothing, she is totally or partially responsible for being raped.

Expecting women to behave a certain way might look harmless but it can feed into entrenched patriarchal prejudices by normalising misogynist attitudes, which can then lead to violence. The problem is not necessarily with acting like a lady but with the potential consequences when a woman does not. By constantly reminding us how to dress, how to think, and how to respect men, misogynists imprison our minds, bodies, and hearts. There is simply nothing offensive about pants, no matter what prism you look at it through.

The problem is also not that if we are dressed properly and remain mute and lady-like, we will not be attacked. Girls are killed even before they are born. Some months ago, Rihanna Sheikh was burnt alive for not bringing in enough dowry, and recently two women, Puja and Hem Kumari, were burnt alive in Banke. Perhaps Saurav would want them to pose with a smile, wear their scars as an asset, and emulate Himani as the ideal graceful lady, rather than speak out. As I argued in my previous article (‘Not just wives and daughters’, April 14, Page 6), behind the adulation for smiling Himani is a subliminal message, asking her to stick to an abusive marital relationship. Staying in her marriage is Himani’s personal choice, unfortunate as it is, and while I sympathise immensely with her, she is anything but a role model.

Gendered nationalism

Silence is not necessarily a virtue, but this does not mean freedom of expression has no limits.

CK Raut tested the limits of his freedom by saying, “Nepal is not our aama. It is a witch that sucks our blood. Nepal is a shameless whore that boasts about its virginity.” In Nepal, verity of expression dramatically increases if anyone with a doctorate degree utters them, even if the degree (robotics, in this case) is totally irrelevant to the issue being discussed. A Cambridge education appears to have kept Raut’s patriarchal prejudices intact, so much so that the quote looks more like a dialogue from a low-grade Bollywood B-movie, where the sole purpose of rape scenes is pure entertainment. But his expression shows how even nationalism can be gendered.

During this year’s Annual Kathmandu Conference on Nepal and the Himalaya, social scientist Seira Tamang made an interesting commentary on how nationalism and nationalist movements rely on patriarchal ideas of masculinity and femininity for their success. When nations are victorious, a masculine symbol, ‘bir’, is used to qualify them. But when a region is conquered, it is referred to as being raped. Raut’s use of the terms, ‘witch’ and ‘whore’, is embedded in this deeply patriarchal mindset, but is all the more offensive because Raut degrades the idea of nationality by choosing the worst gender-based gali he can think of. Remember, women get routinely abused, even fed faeces, in Nepal on charges of being witches. Recently, women were thrashed in Palpa and Rajbiraj for the same reason. As a mother’s forehead was smashed against a tree and she was stripped naked, spectators remained mute. The word, ‘witch’, therefore, is not an abstract term, and comparing anything to it has consequences.

We deserve better

Such attitudes run deep in society. They play a role in exacerbating gender-based violence during national and communal conflicts. That rape and victimisation of women is routinely used during conflicts by opposing forces is well documented. As communal tensions rise in Nepal, we should be very wary of these attitudes because seemingly benevolent symbols of nationalism, such as a mother, can very quickly turn into cunning and wily witches and whores.

An excerpt from a poem by Binod Bikram KC gets it right: “Timi harulai swasni ra malai beshya banaune system eutai ho, sansar eutai ho, shastraharu unai hun, jairi ho,haami yasbhanda dherai layak thiyou” (It’s the same world, same system, same forces that made you a wife and me a prostitute. We deserved better.)

Khadka writes on international development, social policy, and child rights