If Indian Women Want Freedom From Violence, Make Every Rape A Flashpoint

Twelve years after the Jyoti Singh gang rape in the capital, the nation has woken up again to the murder and likely gang rape of a doctor in Kolkata. We were angry enough to protest in 2018 too, when eight-year-old Asifa was kidnapped, drugged, held captive in a temple, raped repeatedly for a week, then strangled and murdered with a stone. And who can forget Hathras four years ago. A teenager was going about her daily work in the fields when four upper caste men had her in a chokehold as they dragged her by her dupatta and raped her. The mother said two of the perpetrators had harassed her for months.

Mostly though, we just stew in silence at the violence against women, or angrily write it down as an inevitable part of the Indian experience. In this rape culture, only some of the most extreme cases that involve broken spines, charred bodies and shredded vaginas grab the nation’s attention.

Between these flashpoint cases lie the souls of thousands of forgotten raped and murdered women, their remains scattered across the country. Forget the northern lights, go look for the women whose cause of death was sexual violence—they are hovering in the air above the towns where they were murdered. If National Crime Records Bureau data is anything to go by, the best sightings are likely over the streets of Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Maharashtra and Uttar Pradesh. There’s a greater chance of spotting them now because they are out in full force, watching us as we march on the streets to #ReclaimTheNight. You can hear them heaving a collective ‘here we go again’ sigh.

A quick search for recent rape cases in India will give you tens of stomach-churning headlines that are not about the Kolkata rape. In Uttar Pradesh, a government official raped a six-year-old Dalit girl when he chanced upon her playing in the courtyard of her own home with a neighbour, no adult in sight. In Rajasthan, a 11-year-old speech and hearing impaired girl was raped and set on fire. She died after 11 days in hospital. In Maharashtra, a school teacher repeatedly raped his 14-year-old student in private tuitions. A Class 9 student raped a 3-year-old in Mumbai. In Kalaburagi, a 13-year-old girl, raped for several months, died in hospital. I’m sorry I will have to stop here, I can’t read any more.

And there’s an extra special Indian experience awaiting you if you survive the rape. One rape survivor was told she couldn’t sit for her exams as it would vitiate the atmosphere. Another was shot at and stabbed by one of her perpetrators and his accomplices. When a Spanish tourist was raped in Jharkhand, the court was worried it would bring “adverse publicity” and “tarnish the image” of this great country. When a 13-year old went to the police station to report she had been gang raped, a police officer raped her. We spoke up for the Unnao rape survivor in 2017 and couldn’t believe it when, two years later, she was beaten, stabbed and burnt by five men. She was headed to court for a hearing in her rape case. She walked for about a kilometre before she found help, gave her statement—and died. She was 23.

Indian farmers came out in the thousands and sat on our roads for months to protest three laws. That’s the bare minimum we need to do if we care about violence against women. If we want things to change, we will have to rise after every rape. That’s roughly 86 times a day that we know of. We will have to speak up multiple times every day—not once every few years—until the state understands that we mean business. We will have to build our own databases and find innovative ways to lobby for policy and attitude change. We need to crowdsource the best ideas and organise ourselves into a neverending river of energy to execute them.

If we do this, I promise you it won’t be long before our government stands up to say what the Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese was forced to say in May: Violence against women is a “national crisis”. “We need to change the culture. We need to change attitudes. We need to change the legal system,” he said. “We need to change the approach by all governments because it’s not enough to support victims. We need to focus on the perpetrators and focus on prevention.”

The Australian government works with young people to help them navigate The Algorithm of Disrespect, an interactive tool that educates them about the hidden disrespect and attitudes that support violence against women online. In 2022, the country released a 10-year plan to end violence against women and children. The pressure is continuously on them to do better.

If we want to be taken seriously, we will have to protest seriously too.

Priya Ramani is a Bengaluru-based journalist and is on the editorial board of Article-14.com.

The views expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of NDTV Profit or its editorial team.