Trigger warning: Mentions of gender-based violence
When the women from Jai Bhim Nagar, a slum area in Mumbai, chose to protest against the rape and murder of a Kolkata-based doctor, everything was in disarray. The upper-class, upper-caste residents of Hiranandani, a posh locality in the city, asked them to leave the ‘Reclaim the Night’ rally, which was a call for women’s freedom to exist without the fear of patriarchy interfering in their lives.
While there was significant uproar against the gender-based violence committed against a woman from a higher economic and social stratum—especially a doctor, one of the most ‘noble’ professions—the brutal rape and mutilation of a 14-year-old Dalit girl, whose body was found in a village pond, barely made the news, let alone sparked any marches against the atrocity.
In such a scenario, her caste and gender rendered her disempowered, as Savarna feminism dominates in a country where those at the lowest rung of the caste hierarchy don’t even have the means to address these issues, their voices strangled at every turn. In 2020, a similar case occurred when a 19-year-old girl from the same caste in Hathras village in Uttar Pradesh faced a violation of her fundamental rights to live with dignity and respect. Nationwide protests erupted, yet the legal system at every turn placed obstacles for the girl’s family to seek justice—so much so that her body was cremated without their consent or knowledge. While charges were filed against the four accused under the SC/ST Prevention of Atrocities Act, three were acquitted by the district court in Hathras, while the fourth was convicted of culpable homicide not amounting to murder, instead of rape and murder. Both the defense and prosecution have appealed the verdict in the Allahabad High Court.
The truth of the matter is that women from Dalit, Adivasi, or Backward castes, who lack both economic and social capital, face the worst outcomes. They are caught in a double-edged sword where caste and gender discrimination prevent them from ever achieving equality. In a broader context, racial discrimination in other countries fostered the need for Black feminism, as white women still held power over them. This underscores the need for intersectional feminism and laws that prevent the abuse of power against the most marginalized women, with a focus on gender.
The irony lies in the case of Bhanwari Devi, a woman from Bhateri village in Rajasthan. After being gang-raped in 1992 by landlords from the Gujjar community for preventing a child marriage, her case became a catalyst for the feminist movement in India. This led to the establishment of the Vishakha Guidelines to protect women from sexual harassment in the workplace.
As we move forward, it’s not only about women who uphold the status quo but about every woman who fears for her bodily autonomy and life, regardless of caste, creed, religion, race, or ethnicity.
As the Supreme Court of India enacts laws to protect doctors in their workplaces, a humble request would be to consider intersectionality and frame stronger laws that ensure no woman ever feels dehumanized or disenfranchised. Because no woman is free until all women are free. We don’t need more Nirbhayas or Abhayas (names given by the media). We need stronger implementation of laws that prevent such crimes, not out of fear but out of allyship. Achieving true equality will require affirmative action, ensuring that all women, regardless of their societal position, can be themselves and have their rights protected. We can only wait—but for how long? Until another rape occurs? Until such violence becomes so common it’s barbaric? Until it happens to you? How long must we wait?
This article was originally published here