The censor within

The controversy over the film 'Gadar', is the latest example of 'censorship by mob', which has become a regular feature of cultural life. While both street censorship of this kind and official censorship by the state generate some public concern and censure, many more insidious forms of censorship that stifle creativity often escape attention. Several are rooted in gender. On the eve of a national colloquium which begins in Hyderabad later this week, AMMU JOSEPH reports on gender-based censorship as experienced by women writers in a wide range of Indian languages.

"Love is an agent of censorship."

THIS pithy statement by a participant in a workshop for women writers in Malayalam was echoed and endorsed by her colleagues across the country as they discussed the who, what, when, where, why, and how of creative writing by Indian women in a series of 10 informal, language-specific workshops spread over the past two years.

The approximately 150 writers who participated in the workshops represented a cross-section of generations, communities, social and cultural backgrounds, ideological perspectives, literary genres and, of course, languages (Bengali, English, Gujarati, Hindi, Kannada, Malayalam, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu and Urdu). Many of them were renowned writers, well-known within their respective literatures, if not on the national (or international) stage. The three-day residential workshops were designed to enable participants to reflect on their lives as women and as creative persons, on the intersections between their various identities and the impact of these on their writing.

As they shared their experiences, thoughts and feelings with each other, it became clear that censorship was an ever-present reality in their lives - even if they were not always conscious of it. Few of the participating writers had experienced censorship as it is commonly defined: the silencing of writers by official censors, jailers or assassins. But most of them were obviously aware of other, more subtle but equally effective restrictions on their self-expression and creativity. "We of the older generation of writers have been wearing the veil of censorship like a nine-yard sari," mused a seasoned Kannada poet.

Most of the writers also seemed to have an instinctive understanding of the links between gender and censorship - even if they had never consciously thought or talked about it before. "A woman's life is censored from start to finish and if not censored then severely edited," said a Hindi writer. As they ruminated on their lives as women and as writers, they clearly affirmed the concept of gender-based censorship, which many women writers across the world consider a real and potent threat to women's right to freedom of expression. [See Box]

According to a senior Hindi writer, the censorship experienced by women writers manifests itself in at least four forms: political, cultural, familial and internal. These are obviously inter- connected and mutually reinforcing but, in her view, cultural censorship is the most insidious and powerful of them all because it pervades every aspect of society and percolates into every social institution, including families and political formations.

Internalised constraints

Self-censorship emerged as one of the most widely experienced forms of censorship operating on women writers. As one Kannada writer put it, "What is most interesting for me is the censorship within us, the cultural policeman who is inside us."

The Malayalam writer's observation that "love is an agent of censorship" turned into a virtual chorus as writers across the country spoke of the restraints they routinely placed on their writing, primarily to avoid hurting loved ones and rocking the family boat. An English poet confessed that she found herself switching from the first to the third person in poems written after marriage in a possibly subconscious effort to protect her husband from unintended distress. A Kannada writer was forthright about the self-censorship she exercises. "I might have become a far better writer if I did not subject my writing to such censorship," she said. "But I like family life and don't want to upset the balance of my relationships."

Evidently, however, self-censorship was not always a matter of personal choice. External factors clearly influenced the decision of many writers to avoid writing about certain subjects and even, in a few cases, to stop writing altogether or, at least, for extended periods - sometimes as long as 15 and 18 years!

Apart from apprehensions about the possible repercussions of delving into personal experiences or divulging family secrets through their writing, many women were admittedly inhibited by what one of them described as "the good girl syndrome." The term became another catch-phrase as writers talked about the pressure they felt - from within and without - to be and appear to be the good daughter, wife and mother, the dutiful, respectable middle class woman: in other words, to live up to social expectations, preserve personal reputation and uphold family honour.

Quoting from one of her poems, a Hindi poet spoke eloquently about the "needle and thread" syndrome in women's lives that kept their lips properly sealed and made them observe a stern "aesthetics of silence":

Scissors to cut with,

a needle and thread to sew my lips with.

If I write my subconscious,

The earth will be covered with paper.

The issues involved in self-censorship became particularly evident during extended discussions in several workshops on the difficulties of autobiographical writing, the differences between autobiographies by men and women, and the different ways in which these were perceived and received by the public as well as the literary establishment. "When I write a short story, it is ultimately perceived as fiction," explained a Marathi writer. "But when I sit down to write my autobiography, that can never be somebody else's experience. Then I have to strip myself naked. And can I do that? The truth is that there are just so many levels of censorship that halt my hand and curb my writing."

Several women spoke of their frustrated desire to write their autobiographies; a number of them had begun writing them only to abandon the project because of their own fears or the objections of family members. Others said they kept their personal, autobiographical writing strictly to themselves. According to one Kannada writer, if she ever managed to write the autobiographical novel she had been thinking about for some time, she would want it to be published only after her death.

Familial restraints

Many writers' evident nervousness about autobiographical work obviously emanated from the attitudes of family members towards their writing. In fact, censorship by families emerged as a major obstacle in the way of many a woman writer's freedom of expression and creativity. If emotional pressure was at one end of the spectrum of family-imposed censorship, violence was at the other.

Two Tamil writers spoke of physical assaults by their husbands on account of their writing. Despite the powerful post she occupies in her full-time career, one of them said she was beaten every time she was published; even after she finally left the violent marriage, her former husband continued to threaten her whenever anything by or about her appeared in print. The other writer's right wrist was broken by her ex-husband for daring to write a poem about their divorce. "My hand hurts now even while mixing tamarind juice," she said as she broke down during the workshop.

A number of writers talked about the destruction of their creative work by family members, most often husbands. According to a Telugu writer, her husband used to routinely tear up her poems during the early years of their marriage. Frustrated by his behaviour, she stopped writing for 10 years. Later, after she resumed her literary efforts, he burnt the letters she received from fellow writers, which were especially precious because she was not allowed to meet anyone from the literary world. A Gujarati writer lost a number of manuscripts because her husband, who read everything she wrote "not to appreciate but to censor," tore them up before she could make copies. "At such times I feel so suffocated that I think I'll never be able to write again," she said. "But then I pick myself up and go on..."

For other women, censorship came in less dramatic forms and from other members of their families, both natal and marital. Although many women traced their interest in literature to the environment in which they were brought up, the literary interests and pursuits of other members of their families, and/or the encouragement they received from various relatives, a significant number also talked about the obstacles placed in their way by family members, often in response to social pressures. Several writers had been prevented from writing by their fathers, fathers-in-law, brothers or sons. Others had behavioural or literary lakshman-rekhas drawn for them by their mothers or mothers-in-law.

An Urdu writer tore up 15 of her short stories after the publication of her first one, when her mother remarked that it would be difficult to get her married if she continued to write such stories. Another Urdu writer was until recently prevented by her husband from using the feminine gender in her poems; even now, she is not allowed to publish the few poems she has begun to write in the feminine voice.

Two Telugu writers had to contend with negative reactions from family members to references to menstruation in their writing. "Although the social criticism in my writing was very mild, even that was considered too radical by my family," said one of them. A Bengali writer revealed that before she set out for the workshop a relative had warned her against washing dirty linen in public.

As a Gujarati writer put it, "We are expected to follow the rajmarg (path prescribed by the powerful) and be involved in sewa (selfless service), dharma (duty), kutumb bhavana (family feelings) or write children's stories and beautiful songs about the sunset." According to her, when women writers follow these unwritten rules, families tend to be proud of their "artistic" achievements; it is when they venture onto roads less travelled that censorship begins. Similarly, in many cases, family resentment and opposition seemed to grow in direct proportion to the writers' success and confidence.

Many writers across the country decried the widespread tendency among readers - including family members and literary critics - to identify them with the characters in their works and to assume that the experiences, thoughts and feelings described in their writing were their own. "People look for personal elements in whatever women write," said a Malayalam writer. This rarely happened in the case of male writers, she and others pointed out. According to them, this unfortunate tendency nurtured and reinforced censorship by the self as well as the family.

Women's prescribed roles within families and households were identified as yet another, albeit indirect, source of censorship. "Life as a traditional housewife is one of the greatest curbs on a writer's creativity," said a Marathi poet and short story writer. Her sentiments were echoed by a Malayalam poet who said she could write good poetry only when she was able to get out of the "home-bound housewife" frame.

Lack of time and space for writing was obviously a huge stumbling block for an overwhelming majority of writers. Perhaps the most eloquent expression of the limits on creativity imposed by the inescapable daily routine of domestic duties came from a Marathi writer when she said: "For me, creativity is like a raincoat. When I enter my house I hang the raincoat outside the front door. I long for the day when that raincoat becomes my skin. But it has not happened yet..."

Her words became a theme song as they were repeated in workshop after workshop; it was obvious that writers across various divides, including language and class, identified with her predicament. According to a Gujarati writer, "The woman writer inevitably has to combine the 'V' of vasan (vessels) with the 'V' of varta (stories). It is never an easy task and it often makes me wish I was a man." "In the midst of all our preoccupations about what to cook and how to look after the children, it is only natural that we find it difficult to concentrate on our writing," said a senior Malayalam poet.

A large number of writers obviously shouldered almost exclusive responsibility for the home and family - including childcare, healthcare and eldercare - in addition to holding full-time jobs outside the home. It was therefore not surprising that most of them said they wrote whenever they could find the time - usually early in the morning or late at night when everyone else was asleep. Few seemed able to write every day and even fewer without interruption.

An English writer's remark about the chai-pani (tea and water) interruptions that impede women's creative work and another's comment that a veteran male poet used to say that he often wrote better after an interruption sparked off a lively debate on the possibly gendered nature of interruptions as well as responses to them. As one writer put it, "The chore for which a woman is interrupted is usually connected to what is seen as her primary responsibility. With men this is usually not the case."

It turned out that paucity of time and space also influenced many writers' choice of genre. A number of them admitted that they had opted for relatively short pieces of writing at least partly because they could not dream of devoting time to longer works. "Often I feel a novel taking shape in my mind but thanks to domestic circumstances there is no continuity in my writing," explained a Gujarati writer. "Ruptured writing does not read well and so I give up the idea of writing a novel and settle for a short story instead."

"For years I have dreamt that a Marathi woman writer will publish a lengthy, humourous novel, and that that writer will be me," said the well-known woman who contributed the powerful image of creativity as a raincoat. "But I find I often cannot even write a short story. All I can write are brief, humourous pieces. I am simply tortured that I cannot write that novel." She recounted a conversation she had once overheard between two male writers; one said he was taking leave to finish a book while the other said he had rented a separate, small flat to work in - with his wife sending meals there - so that he could complete his novel undisturbed. "Where does a woman writer find the luxury of such time and space?" she asked. She herself writes in fits and starts on scraps of paper that she keeps clamped together by the gas stove.

"The spin of domesticity," as an English poet described it, clearly placed curbs on creativity in other ways, too. According to several writers, their canvas was limited because their mobility and exposure to the wider world was restricted. Acutely conscious that much of the literature women produce is often dismissed as purely personal, emotional, domestic, "kitchen literature," several writers pointed out that the traditional, patriarchal family structure, as well as the place and role of women within it, constituted a powerful means of censorship, however imperceptible it may be from the outside.

As a senior Hindi writer remarked, when so many women's freedom of movement and association were so circumscribed, how could they possibly address social and the political issues? A number of English writers, too, confessed that their choice of subject- matter was limited by their inability to fully participate in public affairs. "Many of us are middle-class women from genteel backgrounds with a glass pane separating us from the real world like a kind of of purdah," explained one. "We want to emerge from behind this glass pane and enter the real world but it is not always possible."

On the other hand, several writers questioned the tendency to assume that serious writing had to be about "wider issues." According to an English poet, she colonised her experiences in the wider world and used it to write about the domestic sphere. "I don't feel the need to be defensive about writing from a woman's point of view," she said. "I think the female experience and the private or domestic sphere are as political as anything else."

(To be concluded)

"We define censorship as any means by which ideas and works of art that express views not in accord with the dominant ideology are prevented from reaching their intended audience. Such works may be seized or banned; they may be ignored, defamed, diminished, or purposely misinterpreted, in order to silence their authors and maintain the existing order... Every society has some degree of censorship which it carries out by its normal means of social organisation and control... But gender-based censorship, as we see it, is much broader and more pervasive than official, organised suppression. It is embedded in a range of social mechanisms that mute women's voices, deny validity to their experience, and exclude them from the political discourse. Its purpose is to obscure the real conditions of women's lives and the inequity of patriarchal gender relations, and prevent women writers from breaking the silence, by targeting women who don't know their place in order to intimidate the rest."

Excerpted from:

The Power of the Word: Culture, Censorship, and Voice, Meredith

Tax et al, Women's WORLD, 1995.

Send this article to Friends by E-Mail

Section  : Features
Previous : 'Gadar' at Agra
Next     : Living in, legally