This year I rejected the Ms. Pleasant title in my neighbourhood. When I moved into my current home three years ago, it felt like a more accepting space compared to my older neighbourhood where we had lived for almost thirty years. Other than the odd wedding or Holi party, folks in my old colony kept mostly to themselves. We were courteous to each other, but not close by any standard. This new colony, on the other hand, seemed tightly knit. Folks dropped in to say hello after we moved in, stopped in the street to chat, and festivals were celebrated with aplomb in the common park. Things looked great till the time we realised that there is often a cost to social connection and acceptance in areas where people see each other a lot. This cost can be higher for those who tend to live differently than most.
My son often tells me that I have raised him to stand his ground, and I am proud of that. He is opinionated, doesn’t mince words while expressing his feelings and often challenges the adults around him. I have raised him to give respect where it is returned and to follow our values of inclusion, especially when it comes to friendships. I’ve never had a problem with my son having female friends, hanging out with them and his male friends in the house (within the reasonable boundaries that apply to children) or meeting them outside the house as long as I am aware of where they are. This was not socially acceptable when we were children. There have been a few learning curves but as my son has grown older, authenticity and communication have replaced teen tendencies to hide, push boundaries and take unnecessary risks. We have grown together as mother and child, consistently including conversations and learning around sexuality, friendships, consent, health and abuse in our interactions. But time and again we have been reminded that there’s something wrong with living like this.
Enter my new neighbourhood where some folks, especially the elderly couple and their two sons next door, took it upon themselves to “teach” my son good manners, who to meet and who to avoid, to follow conservative social codes where mingling with girls means you’re ruining the atmosphere of the colony aka “mahaul kharab karna.” My son and I took it lightly at first since they seemed to mean well and made an effort to befriend us. But things got out of hand when they saw my son sitting and chatting in the park with three friends one evening about a month ago. Two of the kids were girls. They were sitting in a well-lit area, near the entrance of the park, clearly not involved in any ‘objectionable’ activities. My neighbours took photos of the kids on their phone and circulated them in the colony WhatsApp group claiming that the kids had been ‘caught’ in a compromising position. All you could see in the photos was their backs and arms, sitting in a circle with space between them. My neighbours demanded that no ‘outside’ people be allowed in the park, and claimed that letting teenage boys and girls mingle was setting a bad example for the younger kids in the colony. I protested strongly, raising questions about the rights of young adults, moral policing, their insinuating public sexual conduct where there was only friendship, and their circulating pictures of the youngsters (without their consent) with intent to shame them and their families.
Over the years, I’ve had to advocate and argue for the values of CSE that I practise in my parenting methods. It has been uncomfortable at times but there has been tremendous growth in the understanding of healthy friendships, mingling and even things like dating, in my family. There have also been many blow-ups along the way, at home and in school, when my son chose a different path (like questioning why girls are not encouraged to play cricket in school, protesting about bullying and refusing “to offer the other cheek”) than those my family, or even I, was used to in childhood. But I have never felt moral censure and shaming as strongly as I did after the episode with my neighbours. Something as basic as the rights of young adults to meet, share and develop healthy bonds was thrown in the gutter.
If I were to be honest, had the same thing happened to me when I was a child, my parents would probably have acquiesced to the neighbours. But now, thanks to their capacity and my persistence about revising concepts that harm children more than help them, my parents stood with me. CSE as a lived practice where children have ownership over their bodies and minds, and allowed the space to learn what is safe or harmful for them, has helped us all grow into a unit where freedom comes with responsibility and care. We were able to stand our ground and talk to the other families in the colony about how wrong our neighbours’ actions were. In a way these conversations helped all of us understand how to respect the natural needs of children of all ages to meet and interact. We agreed that sometimes our kids may need guidance but they could certainly do without unnecessary vigilance and fear mongering.
The whole episode narrated above is a small symptom of larger cultural/social apprehension and downright angst about behaviours that seem ‘too modern’ or seem like a threat to those who believe they are protecting children by segregating them based on gender or sex. Fear, more than a concern for the mental, social and physical health and wellbeing of children, seems to drive how we encourage and limit our growing children. I wouldn’t say that CSE-affirming ecosystems that help build healthy attitudes to sexuality and relationships don’t exist. But these ecosystems in most North Indian cities exist at the level of either just families or schools, and nothing beyond that. In some areas, families and schools may be working together to support children but I have not experienced that in my city, at least not in an organised manner.
Schools tend to focus on areas of CSE that pertain to safety; child sexual abuse awareness (CSA) programmes. In the last decade, I have been part of many such programmes in my city. Recently, the Rotary Club of Agra led by school Principal Namrata Panicker, ran a powerful campaign to bring interactive sessions on CSA awareness to many schools. While the sessions were powerful and addressed hundreds of children, they were not continuous or relational in nature where dialogues, workshops and information could be ongoing and not just a one-shot wonder. Additionally, fear is often the selected idiom to open discussions around child abuse in school settings. For anyone connected to and aware of how CSE influences awareness and behaviour, we know that this is just as limiting as talking about saving the earth through energy conservation without planting trees or watering those that exist. In my limited work in the city, my focus has always been to initiate discussions with emphasis on bodily awareness and ownership. It has often been an uphill task given that social education increasingly operates on principles that divide people into categories of victims and perpetrators, us and them, good and bad.
When I shared these concerns with Namrata, she validated them and responded that often what limits educators most is the mindset of parents and communities. It can take years for schools to convince parents that CSE is more than just abuse-awareness. Fear is what makes them agree to even one or two sessions on CSA while the rest are considered either “too much” or irrelevant. Educators have to be content with what they can squeeze into busy school calendars with the parents’ permission. This gap between what CSE can be – a comprehensive, evolving dialogue about all things life and living for children, and what it often is in reality – one or two targeted sessions, shows up as episodes like the one that happened in my neighbourhood.
When I acknowledge this, there is a sense of disappointment and failure that sets in. How does one go about giving our children a window to the world that is not restrictive or fear-based? Especially in Tier 2 and 3 cities where CSE is barely present, what do affirmative ecosystems look like? Do they even exist? The answer to this might lie in the strength that can be and is present in individuals who dare to think differently. I am reminded of a series of intimate, workshops I conducted with a group of twelve children and their parents a decade ago. They were all from the same neighbourhood. Two parents, who were also my friends, organised the workshops and insisted that I meet them in their homes and talk to their kids. We met over three separate sessions based on age groups and continued to remain in touch individually and on WhatsApp groups created for that purpose. The meetings didn’t look like formal CSE workshops but they turned out to be beautiful gatherings where conversations could flow freely and where parents were prepared to handle any questions or concerns the children might have later. To me, this is what affirmative ecosystems can look like: spaces led by the desire to not just protect but also educate all who connect with children, spaces led not by fear but nurtured through consistent care.
Sometimes affirmative ecosystems can also look like a lone parent standing her ground with neighbours who judge and seek to limit healthy interactions between young adults. That parent can also look angry, wilful and really stubborn; stubborn enough to take the trouble to talk about uncomfortable truths and create safety for her teen and his friends. There may be a social cost to this stubbornness and that is okay. Sometimes, this stubbornness is all that is available and it is certainly better than nothing.
Cover image by Maria Picassó i Piquer for IPPF x Fine Acts on The Greats
