India is an extremely socially conservative nation: This cannot be emphasized enough. Men and women are taught from childhood (probably birth) to stay clear of the opposite sex. People don't "date" as most marriages are arranged, although the definition of "arranged" varies widely. Still, the opposite genders are really not supposed to interact, for example:
- PDA is almost unheard of;
- A man and a woman (especially if they are unmarried) will not spend time alone together publicly or privately;
- It's very common to see straight women AND men holding hands with someone of the same gender in public, whereas it's almost uncommon to see a man and a woman holding hands in public;
- A woman's reputation rests almost primarily on her modesty with the opposite sex;
- Women dress very conservatively, i.e. especially in terms of covering one's legs and chest; and
- Because teenagers can't spend time together alone, such as on a date, you can frequently find very secretive-looking duo's at large gathering places, such as the gardens, discretely chatting and getting to know each other.
In light of this, I had a very interesting experience on Sunday.
First of all, let me begin this by noting that as a white female, everyone looks at me. Everyone. All the time. I can be wearing traditional Indian clothing and dressing modestly (salwaar, korta, and dupatta), and I still get stares. As one peer put it: "It feels like we're...royalty." People stare that much and that often. You don't go anywhere without having several sets of eyes following you at all times. You feel like you're on parade as a representative of the Western world, and there are a lot of pressures and stresses that come with that.
But I digress.
On Saturday, a female student who I spent time with wore a calf-length skirt, nice t-shirt, and dupatta (scarf) when we were out-and-about. She seemed to received normally, or as normally as we expect to be received, and so on Sunday I decided to wear a skirt in Lucknow for the first time. It was a skirt that hits below my kneecap, and I wore a nice t-shirt and a dupatta with it, and I went to the mall in this outfit, an outfit that's not scandalous or outrageous in any sense of the word. (Remember: The United Colors of Benetton in the mall is selling miniskirts and shorts.)
I haven't received that much attention is such a long time. I sat in Barista at Sahara Ganj with two classmates who were dressed in Indian apparel (more gals came later), and there would be men who would literally stand outside the coffeeshop's glass windows and stare. Others would make slow down their walking significantly. One set of younger guys was talking to me THROUGH THE WINDOW, and I sat in the coffeeshop shaking my head trying to ignore them.
I was in a fishbowl.
I didn't take it too personally--as I am neither a stud nor a prostitute--but it's an interesting situation that the American woman finds herself in when she steps foot into India. The media portrays a very flirty, loose version of the American female to the world, and when the American woman finds herself in a very socially conservative place, the onlooker automatically assumes that she is (I.) a slut, (II.) easy, and (III.) open to sexual experimentation. These are verdicts that I myself have not necessarily had the experience to justify, but they are verdicts that harmoniously emerge from the monologues American women tell of their time in this country.
It's an interesting predicament the Western woman finds herself in in India when she is more liberal than the average woman in terms of her relationships with other men but not in any way an sexually promiscuous woman.
There is no middle ground here for the Western woman: You are or you aren't, and it's already been decided for you by the media and the cultural powers that be that you ARE.
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