Fighting harassment on India's streets

In cities like Mumbai, Chennai, and Bangalore, women's self-defense classes have grown increasingly popular, with upper and middle-class women wait-listed for courses in karate and the Israeli martial art krav maga.

But for all the efforts being made to safeguard women against harassment, even the major statutes against sexual harassment in India have proven troublesome. Activists have been quick to point out that the laws against attacking the "modesty" of women do more to regulate women's behavior than safeguard their rights.

Pratiksha Baxi, an assistant professor at Jawaharlal Nehru University and one of India's foremost experts on sexual harassment, remains skeptical of the ordinances. "The provisions aim at regulating women's sexuality rather than protecting their autonomy or their right to be in public spaces without being harassed or raped," Ms. Baxi says.

For those who speak out against sexual harassment on India's streets, there is the knowledge that the consequences of protest have occasionally been deadly. Last year, the wife of a prominent Lucknow politician was shot when she tried to stop a group of men from harassing her daughter-in-law. In 2003, a Kolkata (Calcutta) police officer was beaten to death when he tried to stop five colleagues from harassing a woman who was riding a motorcycle.

And in spite of the increasing efforts to combat "eve-teasing," the onus is still largely on Indian women to restrict their own movement to avoid harassment. "I don't step out of the house alone after 9:30 [p.m.], if I can help it," says Suparna Kudesia, a 20-year-old education student from New Delhi, citing countless incidents of being flashed or groped.

"Even when there's no harassment, women are prepared for it," she says. "Having to be constantly on alert takes its toll."

Efforts of groups like the Blank Noise Project and Jagori are highlighting "eve-teasing's" pervasiveness. If public spaces are slowly growing less intimidating 60 years after independence, harassment remains a frustrating fact of life for Indian women.

"Things have gotten better and worse at the same time," says Ritambhara Mehta, a gregarious 20-year-old political science student from New Delhi. Since her early teens, even a short ride has meant dealing with unwanted advances or comments.

"Sometimes it's easier to say something," she says, recalling the times when she's protested, "but sometimes, words don't come out." Despite some bad experiences, however, Ms. Mehta has resolved not to let herself be intimidated.

"For me," she adds, "not going out can't be the solution – if we all get scared and sit at home, nothing will change."

Page: 1 | 2