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Archana R. Vikraman, India

Who is ‘right’ here? Who is ‘quiet’ here?

By Archana R. Vikraman, India

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Introduction

Using Nancy Fraser’s theory of social justice, this essay examines the actors involved in movements relating to the Sabarimala Temple Entry Judgment of 2018 by the Supreme Court of India which removed the ban on women of 10-50 years of age from entering the temple. Analysing the inability of these movements to address Kerala’s covert patriarchy, I highlight the role movements and discourses play in challenging the patriarchal structure that polices and codifies bodies, interactions, and access to spaces – sacred or not. Firstly I lay out the religious and cultural background behind menstruation in Kerala India. Secondly, I examine the paradox of compliance of these menstrual restrictions. Finally, I conclude by teasing out the contradictions in the current government’s response and the responses of movements in addressing the covert patriarchy in Kerala.

To menstruate, or not to menstruate: Understanding movements preserving culture

Sabarimala is a temple dedicated to Lord Ayyappa and it is located in Pathanamthitta District of Kerala, India. As the child of two major gods in Hindu Mythology, Shiva and Vishnu (who took the female form of Mohini), he was destined to kill the demoness Mahishi who wreaks havoc on the world by destroying fertility and reproduction. After killing the demoness, Ayyappa was adopted by a childless mortal king who built Sabarimala to honour his endeavour (Vadakinniyil, 2019; Joseph, 2019). People of all religions, class, and caste are allowed entry to the temple. A unique instance of religious harmony is the shrine that lies east of Sabarimala and honours Vavar, a muslim warrior who helped Ayyappa. When Ayyappa manifests in the form of Lord Shashtha, people of all genders are allowed to enter his temples. There are restrictions in temples where he takes the form of a celibate ascetic, but women are allowed to enter, except in the case of Sabarimala. On the surface, it is a space of liminality and communitas (Vadakinniyil, 2019), but one learns that it is a space of contradictions that ignites strong emotions. Dominant brahman traditions and knowledge claim that visits to Shastha temples activate different energies in your body. One of six Shashta temples, Sabarimala, activates the Ajna chakra (located between eyebrows and activating the hypothalamus and pituitary glands) raising a person’s creative energy. By withholding bodily fluids associated with creation(i.e. celibacy), one can harness the energy of the Ajna chakra to attain spiritual liberation (Joseph, 2019). Devotees emulating Lord Ayyappa (a “brahmachari”/celibate ascetic) can thus attain spiritual liberation. They wear black, blue, or saffron clothing; walk barefoot; sleep on the floor; address themselves as “swami” (ascetic); let their hair grow out; bathe and visit temple twice a day; control their diet by abstaining from meat and alcohol; and avoid touching menstruating women, luxury and attending funerals. They remain celibate throughout this period (Asianet, 2018). Younger boys and girls, and older women who do not menstruate also do this to prepare for the pilgrimage. Devotees don’t follow all the rules of the pilgrimage, but they will not be denied entry because of their distinguishable characteristics. Thus, they emulate an alternative to their daily life through devotion to achieve spiritual liberation. Oldenburg (1990) cites Romila Thapar's perspective on Hindu ascetics to highlight this alternative which rejects the householder stage of a man’s role in society:

“To this extent such movements may be regarded as movements of dissent. But the element of protest was muted by the wish, not to change society radically, but to stand aside and create an alternative system” (Thapar, 1978 quoted in Oldenburg 1978, p. 277). When women of reproductive age are excluded from participation in the pilgrimage, this imposes an ideal of purity via celibacy which again reinforces patriarchal power and the pollution framework that exists within dominant brahmin tradition. Joseph and Vadakinniyil (2019) assign protective exclusionary value to the ban of women as it might hurt their reproductive ability. In the Supreme Court proceeding, the lawyers defending the ban claimed that the deity is a brahmachari and the ban was assigned negative exclusionary value to protect the deity’s celibate energy which may be reduced due to the presence of menstrual bodies (Venkatesan, 2018; Krishnan, 2006). The ban was not even a norm across history, as visits from the queen of the royal family of Travancore have been recorded and the rule regarding menstruation got instituted in 1965 and legalised by 1990 (Kumari, 2019). Therefore, certain women received conditional access based on caste and privilege after receiving pious approval before the 1990.

Compliance of Menstruation: Reconciling Paradoxes

After visiting a Shashtha temple, Joseph (2019) reflected on the dangerous effect the temple’s energy had on women, making her forget their material responsibilities and devote themselves to a life of prayer. However, why is one body given choice and access while another is deprived of the same? Why is one body allowed entry into a space and another banned? Foucault questioned the legitimacy of established practices and the accepted ‘truth’ by linking these practices and knowledge to power imbalances (Mills, 2003). Gender is reduced to biological sex via menstruation which ignores that gender, according to Foucault, is historically constructed (Mills, 2003, pp 72). The notion of equal participation is discredited by these forms of knowledge proposed by dominant groups. Paternal explanations of protection are the reason why the effect of recognition for women via the supreme court judgement is necessary to counter the lack of choice they receive in order to participate equally in spaces (Fraser, 1998). This narrative protects dominant group’s positions of social and economic privilege (Krishnan, 2006). The participatory parity (Fraser 1998) that is offered to women via the judgement of 2018 gives women a choice that falls outside the assigned roles available to them in this narrative. Reconciling contradictions within my evolving beliefs of feminism and privileged experience of traditions in my family which cherish women, is confusing. When a girl starts menstruating they are gifted presents and are celebrated. However, while menstruating, one has to stay away from spaces of prayer. In the case of my brahmin friends, they are not allowed to enter the kitchen. This exclusion is also considered restorative. Thus, there are different variations of menstrual practices and frameworks of understanding. Cohen (2020) elaborates on

"other schools point to menstrual restrictions as indicative of menstruation’s auspicious and powerful nature, demonstrating the diversity of approaches to menstruation beyond of framework of restrictions even within what is perceived as a singular religion[...]Sangam literature (100–500 CE) offers one such example[...]In her analysis of Sangam poetry, Dianne Jenett notes parallels between menarchal girls, menstruants, and goddesses. She argues that menstrual taboos and practices ‘recognize the sacred power of the female and were instituted for reciprocal protection;’ they allow a woman to access and use the ‘sacred power,’ especially potent during menstruation and after childbirth, to her community’s benefit through appropriate self-restraint and separation (2005, 186), " (Cohen 2020, pp. 121-122)

These contradictions create a paradox of compliance towards restrictive practices for menstruaters which can be attributed to what Cohen (2020) noted about menstrual practices across Judaism and Hinduism playing an integral role in

“determining, communicating, and maintaining identities, hierarchies, and culture itself...

Given that in both Hinduism and Judaism intercourse with a menstruant results in a cursed or defiled state of being for a child should one be conceived, this motivation can be read as a patriarchal desire to ensure progeny of a specific identity and thus the assurance of a continued, bounded community. At the same time, since intercourse with a menstruant communicates impurity to a male partner in both contexts, it can be read as a tactic to prevent transmitting impurity through threatening the status of a child should one be conceived.

Avishai’s work shows how, regardless of how this underlying motivation is interpreted, observance of menstrual laws on an individual level can also communicate something about one’s idea to a larger community (religious vs. secular identity)” (Cohen, 2020 p. 124).

The force behind the movements in defence of the ban – led by stout devotees, rightwing fundamentalists and left intellectuals –was mainly fuelled by their need to defend their identity. On the other hand, those who supported leftist politics were divided into believers who considered the ban as discriminatory and others who did not. “Ready to Wait”, an online campaign led by female and male devotees, used a choice-based framework to articulate their decision to wait. Members of the statutory Travancore Devaswom board charged with the administration of the temple filed Public Interest Litigations under the Right to Religion (Article 25) guaranteed by the Indian Constitution to protest against the ban. (Kumari 2020) The right-wing parties and devotees’ organisations organised intimidation campaigns and physically barred women from entering the temple. Even though the reasons are contextualised, one can’t ignore the danger in their explanations of the logic of the ban. Through misrecognition (Fraser 1998) of menstrual bodies there are effects of deprivation that echoes hypocritical practices present in a state renowned for being exceptionally literate and developed. Preserving the patriarchy by limiting access and participation to significant spaces sets a precedent that is practiced everywhere in the country.

Feminism: An obstacle, remedy or both?

As a Keralite, my understanding of the protests happening under the western-feminist lens conflicted with the space it was coming from. A Leftist communist government complicit in modern patriarchy and privileged feminists who are essentialising voices of women and invalidating decisions they disagreed which were articulated using the same pro-choice and rights framework they were utilising. The women’s wall was a spectacle of 385 women joining to form a human chain to protest against the entry ban. If we look at the Supreme Court judgment, the ‘Happy to Bleed’ and ‘Right to Pray’ campaigns (Kumari, 2019) were very successful. The implementation of the law resulted in violence. The government gave protection to women who wanted to enter the temple and devotees’ organizations along with right-wing Hindu fundamentalist organizations used force to stop them. Arrests were made and police forces were deployed in Sabarimala. The government response was not only to protect women but to curb the growing fundamentalism in Kerala just before the elections where the current central government wanted to gain voters for their nationalist cause. The participation of women in stopping entry challenged the legitimacy of the government and the feminists in being the only voice for women. Kerala’s government primarily looks at addressing gender justice through the distributive framework of economics and ensured women receive adequate health facilities and education. Fraser (1998) contends one framework is not enough to fix the status injury 115

that happens through misrecognition. Even though the protests and the law allowing women entry into the temple makes an important change to culture, it isn’t complete without addressing the modern forms of patriarchy that continue to exist in Kerala in more structural and covert forms. If judged by the development and distribution indicators, Kerala is an exceptional state but if there is a qualitative analysis of the same, we see cracks in the qualityof-life women enjoy.

“The state has some of the highest rates of violent crime in the nation and violence against women is widespread. Kerala’s suicide rates are two times the national average, and Kerala leads all other states in India in the number of family murder/suicides. Women are vastly underrepresented in politics. Although women are educated, the female workforce participation rate is one of the lowest in India. There is evidence to suggest that educated, nonworking women are using their education toward securing a better marriage match rather than for employment or empowerment” (Thomas, 2019 p. 254). Cultural and social barriers placed on women limit their mobility and access to opportunities. Dr J. Devika (year) expands on an understanding of why the protests and judgment didn’t fully align with the covert patriarchy present in Kerala: "The ‘women’s wall’ (whatever unintended consequences it may yield) was built by modern patriarchy against pre-modern forms of patriarchal power. The revival of the renaissance discourse served this end by setting the renaissance as untainted by patriarchy and by masking the insidious presence of modern patriarchy in all institutions in Kerala, including the mainstream Left. I am, therefore, unable to join in the celebration over the success of the women’s wall" (as cited in Thomas, 2019 p. 259). Kumari (2019) clearly underlines that the aspects of religion that are perceived as unjust which intentionally exclude the equal participation of actors is based on a feminist and rights lens. Both essentialise women into passive subjects and fail to account for complicity of not only women but also the institutions which use these lenses. They ignore the power dynamics of caste and patriarchy. The women who participated in the ‘Right to Pray’ and ‘Happy to Bleed’ movements were all articulating their choices as ‘right’ and the women behind the ‘Ready to Wait’ counter campaigns as ‘wrong’ using the rights framework. The exercise of choice needs to be contextualised and respected.

“Saba Mahmood speaks for the women’s religious participation in Egypt and points out that the ‘assumption of human agency especially located in the political and moral autonomy of the subject 65 constitutes a barrier to the exploration of alternative ways of thinking about agency... While progressives dismiss these remarks about women’s willing participation in patriarchal religious observances by calling them misguided or having a ‘falseconsciousness’, Mahmood’s formulation of agency in this religious piety of women in these instances are helpful. She suggests that the concept of agency be ‘delinked from the goals of progressive politics, a tethering that has often led to the incarceration of the notion of agency within the trope of resistance against oppression of power’, and that it be understood in the forms of ‘one’s capacity to realises one’s interests against the weight of custom, tradition, transcendental will or other obstacles” (Kumari, 2019, p. 299). Contextualising menstrual practices may be the key to understand and create lasting change within communities. The social movements generated by Sabarimala, demonstrate that justice is hard to arrive at when multiple actors have different interpretations and perceptions. Voices dissenting against the status quo in Kerala can likely bring about change to resist an increasingly fundamental tendency across India. Thus, tensions generated by women crossing borders (Kumari, 2019) that are placed on their menstruating bodies because of this judgment is one of many significant battles that will be fought to create more lasting change in India.

References

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Approach,’ in Bobel, C., Winkler, I.T., Fahs, B., Hasson, K.A, Kissling, E.A. and Roberts,

T. (eds.) The Palgrave Handbook of Critical Menstrual Studies. Singapore: Palgrave

Macmillan, pp.115–129. Fraser, N. (1998) Social Justice in the age of identity politics: redistribution, recognition, participation. Working Paper. Joseph, S. (2019). Women and Sabarimala: The science behind restrictions. Chennai,

India: Notion Press. Krishnan, K. (2006). Sacred Spaces, Secular Norms and Women’s Rights. Economic and Political Weekly, 41(27), pp. 2969–2971. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/4418425 (Accessed: 9 January 2022). Mills, S. (2003). ‘Power/Knowledge,’ in Michael Foucault (1st ed.). London: Routledge, pp.67–79. https://doi-org.eur.idm.oclc.org/10.4324/9780203380437 Oldenburg, V.T. (1990). Lifestyle as Resistance: The Case of the Courtesans of Lucknow,

India, Feminist Studies, Speaking for Others/Speaking for Self: Women of Color, 16(2), pp. 259–287. https://doi.org/10.2307/3177850 Thomas, S. (2019). The Women’s Wall in Kerala, India, and Brahmanical Patriarchy.

Feminist Studies, 45(1), p.253. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.15767/feministstudies.45.1.0253 (Accessed: 9 January 2022). Vadkinniyil, D. (2019). Mahishi’s Rage Communitas and Protests at Sabarimala.

Anthropology Today, 35(5), pp.16–20. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8322.12529 Venkatesan, J. (2018). 41-day penance indirect way to debar women from visiting

Sabarimala: SC. Deccan Chronicle. Available at: https://www.deccanchronicle.com/nation/current-affairs/190718/41-day- penanceindirect-way-of-stopping-women-visit-sabarimala-temple.html (Accessed: 4 January 2022).

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