Organised and systematic rape as reprisal for her community’s cries for justice or simply as an expression of caste arrogance and custom; sexual humiliation and molestation at the workplace, be it on the agricultural fields of a landlord or the construction site by the contractor and his middlemen; less than equal wages for her work that includes dehumanised jobs like manual scavenging and garbage picking; severe controls and violence in the domestic and social sphere inflicted by the men folk of family and community; the ultimate annapurna for her children, a role that conditions her into under-nourishing herself and her girl child; and, finally, what compels her, in the face of clawing hunger and thirst into lifelong indebtedness — even prostitution.

The Dalit woman.

She constitutes 49.96 per cent of the total 200 million Indian Dalit population, 16.3 per cent of the total Indian female population, 18 per cent of the Indian rural female population and 12 per cent of the urban female population. (1)

Living as she does at the beginning of the twenty–first century, she experiences a relentless cycle of oppression often made worse by the reluctance of the male Dalit leadership to frontally tackle these issues.

For non–Dalit India, the genteel and sophisticated discourse that deliberates on India’s deepening poverty line, shameful and increasing levels of malnutrition and illiteracy (370 million illiterates, say UNESCO figures of three years ago), continued denial of adequate and safe drinking water (2), there is a discreet but distinct reluctance to link this socio-economic and political reality, starkly, with the continued existence in a rigid and stratified form of caste. The perpetuation of class inequalities and indignities through caste, and therefore the connections between caste and class, the triple oppression experienced by the woman among Dalits, therefore the links between caste and gender and between class and gender are similarly denied.

Sensational accounts of gruesome violence (a Dalit woman being gang raped inside the precincts of a temple; another victim–survivor stripped, paraded and humiliated through village streets; Dhamma a Dalit girl blinded in Karnataka for daring to defy the untouchability system; Sanjay, a Dalit boy in Gujarat also losing an eye for similar reasons) are increasingly making it to the newspapers and television channels.

But few accounts link these incidents to the chilling cycle of want, hunger, deprivation, segregation, humiliation and violence, bondage and slavery that a particular section of our people and within that section, their women, suffer for generation after generation, without justice and reparation.

Globalisation and structural adjustment — especially the privatisation of natural resources — are also having an adverse impact on the rural poor in general, but on Dalit and adivasi women in particular, making their condition, unenviable as it is, worse under present economic conditions.

The very notion of sexual purity of the woman is intrinsic to understanding caste. Female sexuality presents a threat to caste hierarchy and stratification because of the male vision that views only the woman’s body as both property and carrier of caste lineage. Bodies of women of ‘lower’ castes may be abused because of the less than animal status accorded to a whole people but also the body and sexuality of women of their own, ‘upper’ castes are similarly subject to rigid control and abuse.

Patriarchal caste thinking (epitomised in Manu Smruti) emphasises that the danger of low quality blood exists only in the woman; raping a low caste woman by ‘upper’ caste man though committed regularly by men is condoned, arrogantly and hypocritically as his privilege. Public discourse sanctions this vile notion; but much worse, at times, even the Indian judiciary has condoned it.

Dubious decisions by the courts of this country reflect blatant and shabby ‘upper’ caste biases against Dalits and the oppressed castes in general but against women of the oppressed castes in particular.

In the mid–sixties, eminent constitutional expert, Nani Palkhiwala had made a staunch defence of caste Hindus, who were preventing entry of Dalits into the garbhagriha of temples in Tamil Nadu, saying that this was in keeping with their religious freedom (Article 25). It was an argument that the apex court in its ultimate wisdom had upheld.

On November 15, 1995, a district sessions judge in Rajasthan, while deliberating on the gang rape of a Dalit woman social worker, battling the evils of child marriage, ruled against the victim–survivor: "Since the offenders were ‘upper’ caste men and included a Brahmin, the rape could not have taken place because she (Bhanwari Devi) was from a ‘lower’ caste."

The judge in this case reflects the rank hypocrisy of the system of caste that perpetuates untouch-ability when it comes to access to water and sharing of food but violates it every time a landlord or a priest, a IAS officer or policeman, sexually abuses a Dalit woman. "We are untouch-able by day and touchable by night", a stark and challenging slogan of the Dalit woman’s movement of the nineties had declared.

Oppressed, abused and denied a voice, both within the caste–based Dalit movement and also by the wider, Indian women’s movement, the Dalit woman has begun to create her own space and dictate the discourse both within and outside her community. Ironically for the Dalit leadership, before and after Ambedkar, tackling the patriarchial base of caste by drawing women into active participation and leadership was critical (see page 14 ). For the present male-dominated Dalit political leadrership, this critical element of women’s empowerment and participation in the struggle, seems unimportant. Taking inspiration from Ambedkar and thousands of Dalit women who sacrificed much to make their articulations collectively, modern Dalit women have in recent decades been organising themselves into independent organisations.

The birth of the All India Progressive Women’s Organisation, Nagpur (1973), Women’s Voice, Bangalore (1987), Andhra Pradesh Vyavsaya Coolielu Samakhya, a federation of unions and organisations working with agricultural labourers, the Maharashtra Dalit Mahasang in Pune (1992) culminating in the birth of the National Federation for Dalit Women (NFDW) on August 11, 1995, reflected this articulation of Dalit women to command their own space and articulate their own issues within the wider Dalit movement and women’s movement, nationally.

"If the Dalit movement and women’s movement are ever to join hands, the Dalit movement needs to become more pro–women and the women’s movement more pro–Dalit", Dr Gabrielle Deitrich, president, Pennurimai Iyyakkam, Madurai has commented. In her analysis on the reasons behind the inability of Indian women’s groups to respond to Dalit women’s issues, Deitrich has pointed to the failure of ‘upper’ caste women to grapple with the system of caste itself, understand it, and thereafter admit how even they as women of the ‘‘upper’ castes’ are discriminated and subjugated by it.

Within the Dalit community, oppressed, segregated, ghettoised and subjected to a hidden apartheid (see CC, April 2001 and May 2000), it is the reluctance to tackle the issue of gender driven oppression directly, or to explain it away as simply an extension of the oppression that the Dalit man has been for centuries subjected to which is responsible for the sharpened and distinct Dalit women’s articulation that is increasingly responsible for these separate articulations.

Increasingly, Dalit women activists and groups are creating their own distinct spaces to identify and articulate the sources of what they see as distinct patriarchal biases within the men of their own community even while standing side by side with Dalit men when it comes to demanding that the world recognise caste crimes against Dalits as a crime against humanity and caste itself as an organised system of hidden apartheid.

"This Dalit man who has received education thanks to reservation and is conscious of his ‘Dalit’ and ‘untouchable’ identity and discriminations perpetuated because of it, follows Manuvad when it comes to women’s issues," says veteran Dalit woman leader, Kumudtai Pawde, who founded the All Indian Progressive Woman’s Organisation in 1973 in Nagpur. She has herself crossed the laxman rekha of caste by marrying, against stiff opposition, an ‘upper’ caste man, the only son of an influential family in the forties.

"There is a denial of basic autonomy and independence for Dalit girls by her father and brother and severe restrictions on her movement later by her husband; severe alcoholism leading to acute levels of domestic violence and battering are a common source of oppression and violence for our women," she adds. "I have to face criticism and abuse for saying what I am saying; I am even criticised for being influenced by Brahmanical notions for articulating gender issues and conducting shibirs (camps) among Dalit women in small hamlets where the pressures and taboos of caste are far more difficult to surmount."

Of late, the organisation has also been conducting camps and meetings with Dalit men. Young Dalits have shown an encouraging openness to discuss gender–related issues.

"Rape, violence, indignity and humiliation are being experienced by Dalit women every day. But forty years after the Dalit movement and three decades after the women’s movement took shape, hamari bhagyadari kya hai? (what’s our share?)," asks Vimal Thorat, an academic at Indira Gandhi Open University (IGNOU – see box).

While Valjibhai Patel of the Centre for Social Justice, Ahmedabad and Sumedh Jadhav, a young Dalit activist of the Manaviya Hakk Abhiyan, Mumbai, are in complete agreement with Kumudtai, Martin Macwan of Navsarjan in Gujarat has a slightly different view.

"As compared to the ‘higher’ castes and richer classes equality between men and women among Dalits is greater. There is much pain to share as also many responsibilities. So while I accept that there is a significant level of violence against women, women do not necessarily take the abuse in silence. They exercise greater freedom in giving it back (hurling verbal abuse back).

Dalits, both men and women suffer extreme violence, extreme abuse, and extreme poverty. Within this scenario, women do suffer more than men. However, this is not because of the man-woman equation or relationship alone but because of caste–driven oppression which is the primary cause."

"The first Dalit is a woman, Brahmin or Bhangi, as Babasaheb Ambedkar had said and she suffers the combined indignity of caste-based oppression outside and triple burdens of running the family and feeding children daily. Often her husband is irresponsible, and is also, sometimes an alcoholic," Valjibhai Patel told CC.

Despite the official prohibition policy, Dalit bastis are rife with the problem of alcoholism combined with extreme poverty. "The Dalit woman’s work, like garbage picking in the dark hours before dawn, make her vulnerable to physical violence, too."

In the first week of May (2001) alone, three seemingly isolated incidents of Dalit garbage picker women having their ears chopped off in Ahmedabad, because of the small amount of gold they wore as earrings, have added another kind of crime to the long list that Dalit women have especially to endure.

"It is Dalit men who conduct annual meetings to celebrate Ambedkar jayanti who are not serious about genuinely carrying the principles of empowerment in to their own homes and families," affirms Sumedh Jadhav. "It is patriarchy and patriarchy alone that is causing this. Look, in Maharashtra, what is our excuse? We have historically enjoyed the leadership given by Savitribai Phule, Ahilyabai Holkar, Jijabai. But centuries later we are still reluctant to accept that our sisters, our daughters, our wives make independent articulations in social and political life".

Jadhav adds: "There are so many issues that only Dalit women can take up because they live through the hardships. The issue of safe drinking water in rural areas (villages) and urban slums, the issue of ration cards and the two-child norm being imposed by present governments, health issues and the issue of shelter. But somehow the Dalit male is reluctant to abandon his patriarchal notions of control. I am convinced that these issues, deserving as they are, will only get raised if women, Dalit women, come and take command and leadership of the movement."

Congress MP from Gujarat, Praveen Rashtrapal quoted a saying in Gujarati that sums up the attitude towards women in general and which has been internalised by the Dalit community as well. ‘Jar, jameenne, jorhu, Prane kajyancha choru’ (‘Money, land and women are the root of all divisions.’) Gujarat has 23 sub-castes among the Dalits. Except for the lowest among these, the bhangis, the social system is heavily dominated and controlled by the male Dalit.

"Do you know that at most locations where the meetings of the panchayat take place, there will be a khatlo (cot) where only men sit and women will in most cases sit on the floor! Despite entry into the panchayati raj system nearly a decade ago, it is only one or two out of ten Dalit women who manage at the end of the day to articulate their issues, Dalit women’s concerns, at the level of the panchayat’s priorities. The others are simply representatives of their husbands. Among the 22 other sub-castes, it is the paragnawad, a men’s group from the sub–caste who decide every issue from marriage to divorce and other matters."

At a recent public hearing of Dalit women organised by Sahrwaru-Sanchetana, Ahmedabad, in April 2001, many of these issues received attention with a sharp gender focus for the first time in Gujarat.

Worse than any other, it is the focus on gender–related violence against Dalit women at the hands of caste Hindu males (a phenomenon that in the past few decades even Muslim women have had to endure) that is singularly absent among the articulations of the wider Dalit movement. Worse still, it has been virtually ignored by the rest of the Indian women’s movement.

The Dalit woman sarpanch of a village in Gurgaon, Sheeladidi, has had to bear the loss of two sons in their prime (one was picked up by the ‘upper’ castes last year and has ‘disappeared’ since, the other was burnt to death in early 2001) simply because she ‘dared’ to enter the political arena and contest panchayat elections. Gurgaon is an hour’s drive from Delhi but the incident has received no support or solidarity from either a woman’s organisation or political parties who articulate Dalit interests.

Other Dalit women sarpanchs who have battled the barriers of family, community and caste to contest elections on the 33 per cent constitutional reservation for Dalit women have to suffer humiliations by ‘upper’ caste men for daring to hoist the national flag!

The existence and perpetuation of the Devdasi system in different villages of Karnataka and Maharashtra is only a ritualistic stamp for sanctioned prostitution. Detailed documentation of their struggle, collected by the NFDW (to be published soon) records the human rights’ violations of Dalit women because of the perpetuation of this practice as also the widespread protests among Dalit women against the continuation of the practice.

"Thousands of Dalit women from poor and landless peasant families or Devdasis (female ‘servants of god’) have been traced in brothels of Mumbai. The Jogini system in Telangana areas, the Basivi system in Karnataka, the Moti system in Maharashtra are part of the Devdasi system where young girls are dedicated to a female deity like Yellamma," the NFDW manuscript documents.

"Dalit girls thus dedicated to the goddess are sexually abused by priests and visitors to the temples. While the dedication ceremony differs from place to place, often the ‘upper’ caste patron of the ceremony has the privilege of spending the first night with the girl. This system of patronage and sexual exploitation has given way to rank commercialised prostitution. Many Devdasis have been protesting against this system vociferously".

"Most of the Dalits from the village of Yellampura get full employment for only three months of the year (February to April) … Daughters and young women from such families are forced into prostitution. The traditional Devdasi system has given way to the commercialisation of the cult. Of the 84 Devdasis of Yellampura village, 34 were found in urban brothels. Dalit families choose to send the best looking daughter. A beautiful daughter was equivalent to three acres of land." (Jogan Shankar, Devdasi Cult, 1990).

Janki, an elderly Dalit woman forced into prostitution, who had deposed at the early public hearing of the NFDW had astutely remarked, "Nothing can stop prostitution, not police raids, no check-posts on borders, no protective homes like Nari Niketan, not even pensions for widows. Buy freedom for our men; give us land, only land. It is this land, these green fields, which will contain our girls. Nothing else can."

"Rape and molestation are new dimensions of a caste war, used as weapons of reprisal and to crush the morale of a section of the people," Justice PN Bhagwati, former chief justice of the Supreme Court, had stated while addressing the Maharashtra state women’s council. Recent rounds of communal violence in Surat (December 1992) and Bombay (1993), apart from historical accounts of Partition-related gender violence against women of different communities are indicators how gender driven violence has not stopped at Dalit women who alone have borne this humiliation in the past.

The past few years have seen communal violence join, if not replace in intensity, caste driven atrocities against Dalits, men women and children. It is not a coincidence that the Hindutva ideology that fuels communalism is rooted in a Brahmanical and ‘upper’ caste exclusion of India’s religious minorities. Muslim women especially in Surat and Bombay suffered similar kinds of gender violence when their communities were targeted.

This coupled with the designs of Hindutva forces to diffuse caste divisions by making assertions of an ‘all Hindu’ unity against the ‘enemy outsider’ (read Muslims and Christians) have also resulted in some sections of the Dalit community getting communalised.

Muslim women are also subjected to isolation by communal forces who have picked the issue of Muslim personal law reform — especially banning of triple talaaq and polygamy — as sticks to beat the Muslim leadership with.

On both issues of communalism and caste, the Indian women’s movement has revealed sharp schisms reflecting a diffidence to tackle the issues directly. It is within these developments that the growing articulations of Dalit women have found their roots.

Some have gone a step farther to forge an alliance between Dalit women and women of India’s minorities. This is following the realisation that under the specificities of violence and marginalisation of women, all these sections would be subjected to increasing levels of gender–driven violence, targeting and marginalisation. For example, Ruth Manorama who was pivotal in forming Women’s Voice, an organisation of slum dwellers and a domestic worker’s union apart from launching NFDW, has also played an important role in launching the National Alliance of Women (NAWO), an alliance between minority and Dalit women.

The story of Dalit women is the story of a longer history of starvation, of oppression, of gender violence from ‘upper’ caste men. Dalit women’s voices raise life and death concerns like water, food, wages, electricity, education and work. Of denials and continued segregation and oppression within the family by Dalit men. The socio-economic condition of a majority of Muslim women reflects varying but similar predicaments. Bread and butter issues, education for themselves and their girls, security to lives and persons.

Groaning under the burden of triple oppression, rooted in their caste and community realities, sustained articulations from the most marginalised among Indian women could well throw up more challenging issues and approaches for the Indian women’s movement as a whole.

(1) 1991 census data, taken from "Database on Scheduled Caste Literacy in India", Indian Social Institute, New Delhi, 1999.

(2) Fifty–three years after Independence, the deprivation of a long and healthy life (people not expected to survive beyond 40), high levels of adult illiteracy, deprivation in economic provisioning by the percentage of people lacking access to health services and safe water, and social inclusion (employment is one indicator) has put India at a low rank (128 out of 174) in the United Nations Human Development Report, 2000.

Archived from Communalism Combat, May 2001 Year 8  No. 69, Cover Story 1

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We have now two generations of articulate, committed Dalit women professionals who are lecturers, professors, activists. But their articulation threatens the Dalit male leadership. They will find no place on their committees! Their presence itself will be a threat to their articulations that refuse to articulate the issue of brutal violence against Dalit women, gender violence and nuts and bolts issues like the right to water and a life of dignity. Forty years after the Dalit movement, where is the women’s share? (Hamari bhagyadari kahan hai?) 

Dalit identity politics articulates caste identity sharply but resists, deliberately, understanding and articulating the gender dimensions of caste itself (that sees all women not just Dalit women) in a certain light. Worse, it completely shuts out patriarchal attitudes of Dalit men vis–à–vis their women. This patriarchal attitude sideline women from forums and especially from decision–making bodies. The Dalit movement has thrown up so many women but articulate women are not invited by Dalit forums, especially the political parties. Why? This betrayal of Dalit women’s issues by the Dalit movement is matched by the utter disregard and tokenism with which Dalit women’s issues are taken up by the women’s movement.

What are we talking about here? Issues that Dalit women grapple with span the area of brute caste violence, caste driven gender violence, political articulation and participation in the public arena, and even caste enforced prostitution.  Within the plight of the girl child in India, the malnutrition and lack of educational opportunities experienced by a Dalit and adivasi girl is worse hunger and even more restricting conditions and no access to schools. So it is not simply gender inequalities that we are talking about but inequalities within inequalities. It is the Dalit woman who is on the frontline, suffering hunger, deprivation, indignity, sexual violence. How can her voice be silenced?

Equally well, at the start of the women’s movement, in the late seventies and eighties, we tried to work within the women’s movement but repeatedly found the reluctance to tackle head on either Dalit women’s issues or for that matter Muslim women’s issues. To a marginal extent, Muslim women’s issues have been reflected as a result of their programme to take on communalism but caste still presents a threatening barrier.

This failure to reflect Dalit women’s issues stems from a reluctance to grapple with caste. Like the rest of the left movement, caste gets subsumed in class inequality. They also have an allergy to study Ambedkar! 
Nevertheless, the Dalit women’s articulations are growing. After the formation of the NFDW in 1995, there have been two conferences in Dhule and in Mumbai, 1997 (that was opposed by the Shiv Sena), three in Delhi and two in Chennai. Our ranks are swelling. There is great enthusiasm for the movement.

We believe that only after these distinct articulations are made and space created for our voices and issues that a broader alliance will get forged again. We have been kept out, left behind, denied by our own movement (the Dalit movement) and also by the women’s movement. 
Both are cynically quiet when Dalit women, who enter the political space at the panchayat level, are compelled to face acts of brutal humiliation, violation and violence. Why? 

In Haryana and Rajasthan, Dalit women are not allowed to lift their ghunghat. In Sonipat, Haryana the elected sarpanch who is a Dalit woman has been forcibly denied entry by caste bullies. She will pollute the panchayat office if she enters, they say! What is the Dalit political leadership, the rest of the political leadership and the women’s movement, doing about this? No one has even raised the issue let alone supporting it. 

In Gujarat this year, a Dalit mahila sarpanch was prohibited from hoisting the flag on August 15 last year. What kind of ‘nationalism’ are we talking about? Two years back, in a similar incident in Madhya Pradesh, an elected Dalit woman sarpanch was stripped and paraded around the village for daring to hoist the Indian flag. Civil liberties organisations took up the issue but where were the RPI, the BSP, the women’s movement then? 

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The story of women’s participation in the Untouchable movement is an interesting one. To trace the early activ
 ism of Untouchable women one has to go back to the beginning of the twentieth century. In the following decades women’s activities developed from mere participation as beneficiaries, or as audience, to the shouldering of significant responsibility in various fields of activity in the Ambedkar movement.

In the first decade of the twentieth century we find Shivram Janaba Kamble taking up the mission of removing the stigma of prostitution from the face of the Untouchables. In 1908, through his magazine Somvanshi Mitra, he wrote articles asking his community to accept in marriage the hands of women who had been thrown into the degrading profession of prostitution through the practice of giving girls to Hindu temples as devadasis (slaves of the God).

Besides writing articles, Kamble conducted various meetings to awaken and enlighten people and appealed to them to abandon the practice of offering girls to the god and goddess of Jejuri known as Khandoba and Yellamama.
Kamble’s efforts yielded positive results. One devadasi named Shivubai responded to the call and wrote a very long letter explaining the miserable life of the wretched women and offering herself in marriage to any willing person. In response to her call, published by Kamble in his magazine, one of his associates, Ganpatrao Hanmantrao Gaikwad, agreed to marry Shivubai. Accordingly the marriage was solemnised and was given wide publicity. 

Not only did Kamble encourage such marriages but he also saw to it that these women got respect and dignity in society. His propaganda against the devadasi system was so effective that in the year 1909 not a single girl was offered to Khandoba as a devadasi. It was also found that other slave girls of the God (prostitutes) were accepted by the young boys of the Untouchable community as their wives.

The early movement of Untouchables in Maharashtra also led to increasing participation by women in conferences. A Nagpur woman, a nurse, described her experiences of untouchability to the All India women’s conference of 1920. Other women were brought before audiences either to welcome the guest speakers in conferences or to sing the welcome songs in  meetings.

The movement begun by Dr. Ambedkar generated an even more enthusiastic participation. Dr. Ambedkar organised several conferences of the Untouchables. He saw to it that women’s conferences were held simultaneously with those for men. By 1930 women had become so conscious that they started conducting their own meetings and conferences independently.

In Mahad in 1927, during the historic satyagraha movement to claim the right of Untouchables to take water from the public tank, Dalit women not only participated in the procession with Dr. Ambedkar but also participated in the deliberations of the subject committee meetings in passing resolutions about the claim for equal human rights.
In the Nashik satyagraha, started by Ambedkar in 1930 for the right of Untouchables to enter Hindu temples, several hundred women conducted sit–in agitations in front of the temple and courted arrest. Every batch of volunteers consisted of some women. Some of the women still alive have been interviewed during this research. This satyagraha was carried on until 1935, when, on October 13, Dr. Ambedkar declared at Yeola (near Nashik) that he had been born a Hindu but would not die a Hindu. In the Yeola conference Dr. Ambedkar announced that this satyagraha was terminated as the heart of the Hindu was not likely to change. He also said that his objective was to organise and to awaken the Untouchables themselves.

During this period, women conducted meetings to support separate electorates for the Untouchables and passed resolutions accordingly. In May 1936 the women held an independent conference along with one for women in Bombay to support Dr. Ambedkar’s declaration of intent to convert to a non–Hindu religion. The speeches of women, reported exhaustively in Janata weekly, show that women were very frank in stating that they wanted a religion that would recognise their freedom, dignity and equal status with men. They expressed confidence that Dr. Ambedkar would not drag them into a religion where women would have to wear the burkha or live in purdah.

The resolutions passed by women in various conferences demanded:
1)  Free and compulsory education for girls;
2)  Women’s representation in state legislative assemblies, local bodies etc … ;
3)  Training for self-protection of Untouchable women, such as wielding of sticks or karate;
4)  Starting a women’s wing in the Samta  Sainik Dal (Equality Volunteer Corps);
5)  Prohibiting child marriages. 

Efforts were made by all Ambedkarite workers to encourage women’s education. The research revealed that the first girl’s school in the Untouchable community was srtarted by Kalicharan Nanda-gawali, who later became the Untouchable representative from Gondia to the Central Provinces legislative council during the 1920s. Similar schools were started in the Konkan region and at a few other places. In 1924 in Nagpur the first woman to start a girls school was Jaibai Chaudhari, who herself secured an education against heavy odds and against the wishes of her husband. She was encouraged and helped in her work by a Christian nun. Other women social workers started independent hostels exclusively for girls during the 1930s.

The political movement begun by Dr. Ambedkar brought forth the political ambition of Untouchable women. Women conducted conferences and passed resolutions to support the Independent Labour Party and later the Scheduled Castes Federation programmes. 

Describing the 1942 conference of women in Nagpur, held at the same time as the meeting of the Scheduled Castes Federation, Dr. Ambedkar said, “The presence of women at the conference in their thousands was a sight for the gods to witness. Their dress, their cleanliness and the confidence brought delight to my heart”. Similar conferences of women of great magnitude were organised at Kanpur (1944), Bombay (1945) and Calcutta (1946).
At all these conferences, women leaders, viz. Minambal Shivraj from Madras, Sulochana Dongre of Amravati, Shantabai Dani and several other women addressed the meetings. Radhabai Kamble, a worker in a cotton mill, had come up as a labour leader in the Ambedkarite movement in the 1920s. She gave evidence before the Royal Commission of Labour in 1929. The Untouchable women also joined political agitations courted arrest and underwent jailed during the Scheduled Castes Federation’s 1946 satyagraha in the state assemblies. From all this it will be clear that women had made great strides in achieving political consciousness.

The research shows that women were also interested in reforming the marriage system. Untouchable society already permitted divorce, remarriage and widow marriage, but the women in the movement brought several further reforms to the marriage system. They opposed child marriage. They tried to eliminate unnecessary rituals in marriage. They even adopted marriages through advertisement, which was not acceptable then, even among higher classes. Even marriages among different Untouchable sub-castes were welcomed. Such reforms were often ahead of the higher castes. 

The research has also documented the change that has occurred among women since the great conversion to Buddhism in 1956. Normally it is believed that women are mostly conservative in cultural matters and not amenable to change, but Dalit women accepted the progressive religion. They have given up old customs, rites and rituals, visits to Hindu pilgrimage sites, fasting on various Hindu festivals, etc. The women have also adopted the Buddhist form of worship and way of life which is based on morality, wisdom and compassion. 
The conversion has changed their outlook about caste so much that the new generation of Buddhists hardly knows its sub–caste, and many inter–caste marriages have been welcomed in the Buddhist faith. Formerly girls were given contemptuous names which indicated their low position and caste. Now the Buddhist women name their daughters after great women in Buddhist history.

A Note on the Research Process. The research on this project included locating and reviewing various newspapers published within the Untouchable community during the last hundred years. These include Dhnyan-prakash, Bahishkrit Bharat, Janata, Somvanshi Mitra, etc. In addition to these, some scholarly publications by eminent writers, census and other relevant reports, rare booklets, leaflets and similar material have been explored.

The major portion of the research involved interviews of approximately sixty women who were connected with the Ambedkarite movement. Some information has been obtained from the relatives of deceased participants in the movement. This information was collected from various places in Maharashtra and also from Delhi. The research as a whole throws a flood of light on various activities of women which were hitherto unknown. As far as we know, nobody  so far has dealt with this subject. We interviewed women participants in the Ambedkar movement in order to understand what role they played in the movement; what sort of experiences they had in the field as well as in the family, as mother, wife and daughter; what was the effect on their lives, of Ambedkar’s movement and speeches; what difference was there was between a common housewife and a Dalit woman social worker; how far these women are aware of continuing atrocities on women and similar issues.

We travelled throughout Maharashtra and contacted women workers in Bombay, Pune, Satara, Nagpur, and Nasik and some in the countryside. We also visited Delhi. Sometimes we could give them advance notice, but most of the time we had to take them by surprise. Several times we had to remain without food and water, but when we reached somebody’s house we were showered with warm hospitality and love.

At some places we were told that a particular woman was an active worker, but on verification or after a personal meeting the woman would be frank in saying that she was not the woman we wanted. Another thing we noticed was their willingness to help us learn about other women. Thus, by lighting one candle from another, the picture of the Ambedkarite movement became clearer and clearer.

Most of the women we met are illiterate, but some are teachers, some are writers, and three or four are Buddhist nuns. A couple of these women are legislators and some are in local bodies. Most of these women are poor, but some have attained financial security. Most of the women active in the movement were born in social workers’ families, or were given in marriage into such families. Some lived in neighbourhoods where social activities were going on and became involved.

For all of them, Dr. Ambedkar’s words and movement had an inspiring effect on their minds. Even the participants in the movement who were illiterate subscribed to Ambedkar’s journals, e.g., Mooknayak, Bahishkrit Bharat, Janata, Prabuddha Bharat, to keep these publications alive. It was heartening to see that women contributed even from their own meagre income to almost every activity that was going on in the movement. They paid four annas or eight annas when their daily wages were hardly a rupee. (There are sixteen annas in a rupee). These contributions were very significant in the movement.

While joining the processions, satyagrahas, etc., these women had to entrust their children and family responsibilities to a neighbour or to a close relatives like a mother or daughter. Occasionally some of them had co–operation from their husbands, but some of them had to face brutal beatings at their husband’s hands. Some women courted arrest along with men in satyagrahas. At such times, some of them took their infant babies with them to jail and some carried all their belongings, including chickens. Those who left their nursing babies at home complained of breast pains in jail. In order to facilitate social work a few women underwent family planning operations while a few brought home a second wife for the husband.

We have noticed that these women who were once meek and shy are now self – reliant and dare–devil. Taking into consideration the extremely backward social atmosphere, the achievements of these women were most commendable. Schools, hostels and orphanages for girls were started by women like Jaibai Chaudhari and Deshbhratar in the Nagpur area. Radhabai Kamble shouldered leadership in the labour movement. Sakhubai Mohite and Suman Bandisode were among several women who led organisations and participated in movements such as the struggle to rename Marathwada University, extend (affirmative action) reservations to Buddhists and provide land to landless labourers.

Women also continue to be interested in political work. The Republican Party, founded by Ambedkar in 1958, was split into several groups after his death. The women we met are working through these groups but are not happy with these divisions. They believe that the whole Dalit leadership should unite and work as a whole and take the chariot of Ambedkar’s work ahead. 

Archived from Communalism Combat, May 2001 Year 8  No. 69, Cover Story 3

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Mujhe sehl ho gaieen manzilein/voh hava ke rukh bhi badal gaye
(My journey has eased/ direction of winds have changed). Lines from Majrooh Sultanpuri

For the first time, exactly a month ago, Muslim women were invited by the All  India Muslim Personal Law  Board (MPLB) to a conference on the ‘Genuine Problems of Muslim Women and their Solutions’. The venue was the engineering faculty of Jamia Millia Islamia University in New Delhi. Tension between the MPLB and various women’s groups had been brewing for a few years. This was reflected from time to time in press statements by both parties on various issues pertaining to Muslim women. Members of the MPLB were always seen by women as the orthodox face of Islam who would never permit women to own their own patch of sunlight.

Dr. Hasina Hashia, who coordinated the event on behalf of the MPLB, is one of its fifteen women members. The rest of the hundred and forty members are male. Among the audience there were women from all over the country, representing more than 40 NGOs. The hall began to fill; there were a few women in hijab, most of them were not. Half a dozen women members of the MPLB were also present. Women and men sat sharply divided, on either side of the aisle; the same division was evident on the stage. Interesting that the ‘women’s section’ was bang in front of the stage while the ‘men’s section’ was closer to the hall, but on the stage the setting was reversed. The men squarely occupied  centre–stage while the women were squeezed into the far corner. 

For me this was a much awaited and longed–for moment. As member of the National Commission for Women, I had toured the length and breadth of the country, holding Public Hearings with Muslim women in the gullies and mohallas of districts and tehsils. The findings of this survey had been published as a report on the status of Muslim women entitled Voice of the Voiceless. Having actually captured their voices as they deposed before us, there were some conclusions and recommendations which we addressed first and foremost to the Muslim Personal Law Board, then to all levels of government and finally to  civil society. This conference was the first time that the very members of the Board who we had so far only addressed through the print media, had actually sat down to listen to us.

Some ground rules were laid at the very outset by Qazi Mujahidul Islam Qasmi, chairman of the MPLB. First, that this meeting was not about codification of Muslim law, second, that this meeting was not to ban triple talaaq, and third, that this meeting was not to approve the standard Nikahnama. Two other expectations were placed on the table; first, that this was not a time for mahaaz aarai (confrontation) and second, that it was not a case of ‘who wins, who loses’ but a case of finding solutions to problems. 

Within this framework, discussions had to be held and some consensus hammered out in the next two days. Women were not fariq(opponents) they were rafiq (friends) and all problems had to be solved in the light of shariat because shariat gives women adl (justice) as well as masaavaat (equality).

The next two days were structured around sessions at which women presented the issues pertaining to nikaah, mehr, dowry, inheritance, talaaq, khula and maintenance. After each session one male member of the MPLB offered response on behalf of the Board. At the end there was an open session in the form of a Public Hearing. The conference ended with a declaration which delineated the future course of action for all parties.

What is the net result of this endeavour? This question has been raised often in the last month by different parties. Some have made public statements that it has added up to a big zero because the MPLB has ‘given’ nothing to the women. No improvement has been promised on the matter of triple talaaq or standard nikaahnama or codification of Muslim law. The feeling among some women’s groups is that they have once again been short–changed by the Board. These feelings were expressed on the floor of the conference as well as in media interviews which followed. Some groups, however, felt that there was a major breakthrough in the deadlock, a breakthrough which needs to be welcomed and put to work. On April 7 and 8, 2001 history was made by a courageous contingent of Muslim women and top ranking ulema from all over the country.

Let it be said for both sides that it is quite easy to be disgruntled and show annoyance. It takes much more to understand the other’s difficulty and help him/her overcome it. During the conference, some ulema showed very little empathy for the women who had travelled long distances to air their problems and demand solutions. Some women showed no understanding for the genuine problems of the maulanas who had taken considerable risk in calling this meeting. These hard-line postures were evident in various incidents which erupted throughout the two days.

About one thing let us be clear. It was not easy for the MPLB to have called this meeting. All shades and degrees had to be convinced before the conference was announced. But having once opened the road to dialogue there is absolutely no going back. The very fact that we all sat together for two days made the unspoken tension between women and the ulema disappear to an extent. 

As Hasina Khan of Awaaz–i-Niswan said to the media, “we felt we could talk to them even on a personal level”. Or Hasanath Mansoor of FEMWOB Bangalore who said, “The atmosphere of suspicion has reduced to some extent”. At the end of the day it was felt that strident and belligerent postures taken by either side serve no practical purpose. They best suit the political parties and not people who are genuinely concerned about solving problems. 

The women and the maulanas also discovered that they are on the same side of the issue. At the meeting they agreed that it was the ‘evils of its practice’ that were giving Islam an anti-woman image in the eyes of the world. It was this ‘evil’ which had to be killed at its root. Every one agreed that Islam was the first religion that enjoined gender equality. Surah after surah was quoted by the maulanas and the women, that spoke of women and men as equal partners. It was reiterated by all that Islam gave women property rights at a time when the girl child was killed at birth for fear of public censure. If the shariah had been properly understood and practised Islam would have been hailed by women’s groups all over the world as the ideal religion for gender rights. 

Then came the declaration.
The crux of the declaration is that there is urgent need to create awareness among Muslims on the issue. Small workshops are to be held in all parts of the country where, with the help of imams and ulema, people would be educated about their rights and duties; especially those pertaining to marriage. A concerted endeavour is to be made to eradicate the frequent and irresponsible exercise of the right to divorce which brings distress all around. Special restraint on divorce is enjoined, which would mean that people will be encouraged to seek ‘advice and intervention’ of ulema, imams and community panchayats to determine if there is a genuine need for talaaq. The practice of dowry has been declared un-Islamic by the ulema; this edict has to be strictly enforced. 

Public opinion has to be mobilised to eradicate evils like non-payment of mehr and contracting second marriages without doing justice to the first. Strictures were also placed on the ‘unhelpful’ role of a ‘number of women’ in matters of dowry demands. Finally, there was a plea to the government of India for the establishment of Darul Qaza (Islamic judicial panchayats) as well as shariah benches within the Family Court system.

With the exception of the demand for Darul Qaza, the points in the declaration attempt to cover the issues which have been most contentious for Muslim women since the Shah Bano agitation. So far as Darul Qaza is concerned, let it be understood that establishment of a parallel judiciary is not the answer. Problems of pendency plague the entire judicial system causing untold hardships, particularly to women. And who can guarantee the efficacy of Darul Qazas, the quality of the presiding judges, the efficiency of proceedings? Ulema themselves understand this conundrum; therefore it is surprising that time and again they continue to raise this issue. But so far as the other aspects of personal law that cause Muslim women untold suffering, the MPLB has tried to address them in this declaration. The maulanas have listened and reacted. The fact remains that they could have done much more. But they have chosen to tread the path with utmost care; perhaps because they wanted to keep all the factions together.

Let women’s groups try to understand the ulema’s difficulty and with practical wisdom keep chipping away until the citadel breaks down to let the winds of change blow through. It is a fact that the maulanas have the pulpit and millions of the ummah listen, weekly, to their Jumma Khutbas. When it comes to Muslim masses, it is mostly they who can bring in the desired change. Laws have never been able to change whole scale mindsets; else we would by now have eradicated child marriage and female foeticide. Maulanas are equally chagrined at the distorted image Islam is getting all over the world. In short, they need us as much as we need them. So, let us join together, let this conference go down in history as the turning point for Muslim women. 
 

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Divorce may no longer be  such a traumatic experience for women in Bangladesh. If the country adopts  the Uniform Family code (UFC), women will have a greater say in marriage, divorce, maintenance, inheritance and child custody. The proposed uniform family code seeks to reform existing family laws to make them more humane and beneficial to women. By reforming laws to end discrimination against women in these matters, the UFC seeks to give equal rights to women belonging to all religions. 

The UFC, which is presently under consideration by the government, is the brainchild of the Bangladesh Mahila Parishad (BMP). The BMP has been working for women’s rights over the last 30 years. “We realised that women are subject to oppression and discrimination in matters relating to personal rights. They are also denied access to opportunities for development, despite the Constitution guaranteeing equality to men and women,” explains Ayesha Khanam, general secretary, BMP. 

Since they provided legal aid, BMP members were conversant with all laws, particularly those relating to women. According to Khanam, although 85 per cent of the population in the country is Muslim, the demand for a uniform family code cuts across all religions. “Although laws for women do exist, like the Cruelty to Women Ordinance, Dowry Prohibition Act, and the Family Court Ordinance, structural weaknesses limit their efficacy,” contends Khanam. It is these limitations that the UFC hopes to redress. 

In the first part, which deals with marriage and divorce, the UFC makes it mandatory for every marriage and divorce to be registered. It also lays down the minimum age of marriage for boys at 22 years and for girls at 18. “Many girls are married as soon as they reach puberty, sometimes even earlier. These are rarely, if at all, registered. So the girls are deprived of their rights if they are abandoned or divorced by their husbands. If marriages and divorces are registered, it will give women legal grounds to get what is rightfully theirs,” points out barrister–at–law Tania Amir. 

In a bid towards gender equality, the UFC gives women equal rights to property acquired during the course of the marriage. The UFC also outlines grounds for divorce for both men and women. While there are eight grounds on which men can claim divorce, women have 10. 

Besides the usual reasons like immorality, impotency, and physical and mental torture for which women can claim divorce, the UFC also puts down dowry demands as a valid ground. Inability to pay maintenance for two years or disappearing for the same period also gives women reason to demand divorce. In fact, even if the husband is addicted to drugs of any sort, divorce claims are valid. A husband can also ask for a divorce in the event of his wife being a drug addict. 

However, although the UFC gives husbands the right to seek divorce if the wife is a lesbian, it does not give women the same right if their husbands are gay. Says Khanam, “This aspect could be looked into later. We first want men and women to understand that a woman cannot be divorced merely on the whims of her husband. The reasons have to be in accordance with the laws. Women are often taken for a ride because of their ignorance.”
In the second part, the UFC provides for maintenance to become compulsory and uniform, thus transcending religious customs and traditional laws. While laying down the grounds for maintenance, it also outlines the course of action that can be taken if the maintenance amount is not paid. 

“The number of abandoned women is on the rise,” contends Farida Arif, executive director of the SERWTCI Trust, a quasi-governmental body that looks after the socio–economic development of distressed women. 
“Organisations like ours try to make women economically independent. But if maintenance becomes their right by law, their aspirations for self–sufficiency will become greater and reduce their dependency on others,” says Arif. 
The third part of the UFC deals with the appointment of guardians of minors and lays out eligibility conditions for guardians and their duties and rights. It also provides for regulating the conduct of guardians if they act against the welfare of the minor or the property they have been nominated to protect. 

The uniform law of adoption forms the fourth part of the UFC. It simplifies adoption procedures for married couples. But it has still not made a provision allowing single women or men to adopt children if they so desire. 
The most important aspect of the UFC is the uniform law of inheritance. Property rights are often the most contentious. This law lays down that women, whether married or unmarried, shall have equal rights to property. In fact, it also makes provisions for children born out of wedlock — it gives them the right to their maternal property. 

“Property rights are one of the most important tools for empowering women. This helps them control their resources and become independent,” avers Aroma Dutta, chief of the PRIP Trust, a Dhaka–based non–governmental organisation (NGO) working towards women’s empowerment. 
New dreams and aspirations are stirring within Bangladeshi women. Education is helping more women realise that they are entitled to certain rights under the Constitution. But since structural contradictions of laws still exist, reforms are imperative to make these dreams come true. 

Women’s organisations pushing for the UFC have received considerable political support, not just from the coalition parties in power but also from the Opposition led by former premier Begum Zia. Since a woman Prime Minister, Sheikh Hasina, is in the saddle at present, hopes are high that the Uniform Family Code will be adopted soon. 

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According to the teachings of Islam, marriage is a social contract between two consenting adults for which no moulvi or kaazi is essential. All that is needed are two Muslims respected by the local community, willing to be witnesses to the contract between a man and a woman to marry each other on mutually agreed terms. But because the poor Muslim does not know this (or chooses to be ignorant), he continues to be a slave of the moulvi saheb anyway.

Why blame the poor moulvi saheb alone? The moment he puts his signature on the nikaahnama (wedding document), his role is over. This is because while a Muslim male marries in an ‘Islamic’ way he divorces in a totally ‘secular’ fashion. A post-card, a telegram, now an e–mail, is all that he needs to snap the marital bond without a moment’s notice either to his wife or to any moulvi saheb. 

And once the post-card, telegram or e–mail has been served on the hapless wife, even a well–intentioned moulvi saheb is totally helpless because of his belief that though socially abhorrent, the triple talaaq practice is theologically unobjectionable. Even if he were to subsequently intervene and convince the errant male to rethink, its too late. The only way out for the summarily divorced wife is to find another man who will marry her, consummate the marriage and give her an instant talaaq. Only then can she remarry her first husband.

Make no mistake. The moulvi sahebs and the kazis who adorn the All–India Muslim Personal Law Board are no hermits who need a ‘dialogue’ with this or that group of Muslim women to become aware of the plight of Muslim women. If indeed they are concerned with Islam getting a bad name, they should ask themselves why they so obstinately continue to resist change. One has only to go through the preceding two articles to realise how far the Muslim woman in India is behind her sister even from ‘backward’ Bangladesh. 

Be it Bangladesh, Pakistan, Egypt, Morocco, Tunisia, or any other Muslim society, one thing is obvious. In each of these countries, the impetus for pro–women reforms has come from other societal or state institutions, while the bulk of the clergy remains opposed to change. How can it be otherwise in case of India?
As in all other organised religions, the Muslim clergy, too, is entirely male-dominated. And its but natural that a male-centred body — be it a ‘Men Only’ club or a religious body — will be male–oriented in thought and in deed. 

No one can deny that when Islam was born, the teachings of the Quran and the sayings of the Prophet were radically pro-women, far in advance of the then prevailing social ethos. But we are not talking here of Islam or its Prophet. We are talking instead of the male–dominated Muslim clergy that through the centuries has subverted the egalitarian thrust of the Quran in the matter of man–woman relations. The MPLB is part of that subversive tradition. 

It is not to be denied that some men of religion, who occupy important positions in the MPLB hierarchy, are genuinely concerned about the pathetic plight of Muslim women in India. But to expect such a body to be an agent for change is to ask for a miracle. To believe that the same clergy that has been the bulwark of patriarchy, orthodoxy, conservatism and worse, elsewheres in the world will through some magical process in India be the harbinger of change.

Archived from Communalism Combat, May 2001 Year 8  No. 69, Cover Story 5

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From a climate of widespread  fear, insecurity, death, ‘disappearances’ and the memories of it, women arrived in Delhi from Kashmir and the North–East last month for a two–day dialogue between them. These were women who had, directly or indirectly, been affected by the continuing conflict in these two regions and had learnt not only to reconstruct their own lives but that of others, including their own families. 

In this atmosphere, women are particularly impacted and have to cope not only with increased violence in their lives but also with increased burdens as well as the tasks of providing for the family. Yet these experiences are seldom talked about or considered at moments of decision making Women from both these regions have also played major roles as peace makers; they have helped in resolving problems and rebuilding lives as it is to them that the task of putting together the damaged fabric of society has fallen.

The objective of the meeting was to bring together from these two regions women who have faced ongoing conflict. It was hoped that through being able to share their experience and coping strategies, the women would be able to build networks, make links and quite simply, share information. 

The participants were survivors who have lived in the grip of political violence for long years, finding ways on a daily basis not only to cope with it and manage their lives but also to devise new ways to overcome the hazardous consequences of such violence….

How would they cope with the summer heat and dust of Delhi was our concern as we received them. But they were unmindful of it – relieved that the busy landscape was not dotted with men in uniform toting guns, army or paramilitary convoys bringing traffic to a sudden halt or the ever present threat of being stopped and searched….
For some of them, it was their first ever exposure to life outside where they lived. But meeting each other was a fresh and unique experience for all of them. A conflict spanning decades, it has left an indelible imprint of deep fear, trauma and suffering on generations of people including men, women and children. 

When a Naga woman activist elaborated on it, stressing that among the people who have been deeply affected are women and children, it found resonance among the Kashmiri women. A woman from the North–East pointed out poignantly that at first men used to be their protectors but now the women have had to become the protectors of men as they had to step out to take on the role of negotiating for a just and peaceful resolution of conflict. 
The stories began to flow as women spoke of their experiences. Despite the social, cultural and historical differences, a remarkable similarity emerged in what they had to narrate. Experiences of living in terrible fear and intimidation, of not knowing when they might become the targets of cordon and search operations or when their family members — men, children, young boys and sometimes even young girls – might be picked up and taken away.

The search for a missing family member, whose numbers today run into thousands might often be rendered impossible by the total abuse of human rights in both regions. Even their fundamental right to live in dignity and freedom, and without fear had been taken away. “When we step out in the morning, we are not certain we would return home to our loved ones in the evening,” said an old woman from Baramullah. She has spent ten years searching for her husband who was picked up by the security forces from his shop and has not returned since. 
“We have had to close down the shop as there is no male member left in the family. I have six daughters and I cannot risk their lives. With this only source of livelihood closed for us, I work in other people’s homes to earn a living. And when I return home, my daughters and I work on the charkha to earn a little more…. There are scores of women like me,  whose lives have suddenly been transformed.”

In many families, where men have either been killed or are missing, other than women being forced out of their homes, children have had to give up their education as they were sent out to support their families. The women shared each other’s anxiety and the burden of nurturing a new generation growing up in a hostile and violent environment, and how to protect their innocence, health and well being. 

For the women, the opportunity to speak to each other in the course of the dialogue was a valuable learning experience. Many of them felt that it had helped them realise that they were not alone in their struggle for justice and peace and in their attempt to restore hope and confidence where it had been eroded. When women from the North-East, particularly Nagaland, spoke about the strategies they had evolved and adopted to negotiate for peace in their region, the Kashmiri women articulated their concerns and constraints in doing the same. For them the fear of the bullet was a daily threat and reality which restrained them. “Even as I go out to work each day, I see myself as a wife and mother, anxious to safeguard and protect my family….”

Four days of staying together and talking to each other about their concerns had clearly established that despite the hardships they had suffered, most of the women did not perceive themselves as victims. Having crossed the threshold of their homes not only to seek livelihood but also justice, women were in fact giving rise to a new equation of relations both within their homes and outside, no matter that their role and contribution is not yet fully recognised by society.

This exchange, when it extended outside the meeting hall, saw women relate to each other in warm camaraderie as they ate together, posed for photographs with each other and sang songs. They also went out to see the city for the first time, returning with small gifts to take back for their dear ones. 

As they exchanged addresses they promised to stay in touch with each other, hoping that someday they would be able to build a network of lasting relationships and common strategies. This meeting was a first step towards this process….    

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