A couple of days back, I was on a plane from London to the U.S. and I had the opportunity to sit back, relax, and watch movies. I ended up watching the Kiera Knightley flick, The Duchess - and I was definitely not expecting what I saw. If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s a tragic tale of Georgiana Spencer, who is married off to the Duke of Devonshire at age 17. Unfortunately, she soon realizes that her marriage will be loveless and that entire purpose of life is now to produce a male heir for her husband. She continues to disappoint the Duke on this end, provoking his anger and indifference over the years as she has two daughters. On top of this, her husband is not a man of faith, and he openly has affairs with countless women in their own house.

But she’s stuck in this loveless, painful, abusive relationship because of social convention and the constraints on women at the time. The double standard is stark - her husband is allowed to continue his unfaithful ways while she is required to pose as the picture perfect wife. People talk, they feel bad for her, but beneath all this, there is implicit societal acceptance of this double standard.

In much of North America and Europe the status quo has clearly changed since the 1700s. But the movie truly saddened me as I was reminded that my counterparts in much of the developing world are still stuck in lives governed by Victorian-era (or worse) social conventions. I’m from India, and I know that while the middle and upper classes there are becoming more liberal, the stigma of divorce is still unbearable. I’m not condoning divorce, but I am saying that in India - especially amongst the lower classes - this stigma coupled with arranged marriages, the practice of dowry, and the pressure to produce male children is still debilitating for many women. While women in the middle class are increasingly gaining employment and financial freedom, women in the lower class remain just as constrained as ever.

The situation seems to be similar in Pakistan, as an anecdote from a recent New York Times article alludes to. When Saima Muhammad, a woman living in the slums of Lahore, had two daughters, she experienced domestic violence and shame from even her close relatives:

“My husband beat me up. My brother-in-law beat me up. I had an awful life.” … Then when Saima’s second child was born and turned out to be a girl as well,her mother-in-law, a harsh, blunt woman named Sharifa Bibi, raised the stakes.

“She’s not going to have a son,” Sharifa told Saima’s husband, in front of her. “So you should marry again. Take a second wife.” Saima was shattered and ran off sobbing. Another wife would leave even less money to feed and educate the children. And Saima herself would be marginalized in the household, cast off like an old sock.

As you can see, the situation is desperate. I often regard myself as immensely lucky to have had the chance to grow up in the United States, where I have financial freedom and most of all - choice in how I lead my life. Many poor women in countries like India and Pakistan, among many others, are simply denied these choices. I could have just as easily been in their place.

The good news is that change seems to be abuzz in the air. Muhammad Yunus‘ groundbreaking Grameen Bank model focuses solely on women — and similar microcredit organizations are popping up everywhere, providing new hope for many women. Of course, microfinance has it’s critics and its effectiveness may not be known yet. It’s also not a panacea to all the world’s problems. But I still think it’s a good step in the right direction - ensuring financial independence for women. When women become the holders of the purse strings, they channel more of a family’s money towards the kids, and they gain bargaining power in the household. It’s common sense - but with microfinance, there’s a new way to concretely improve women’s financial freedom.

But beyond this, I think part of the next step is really reaching the next generation of men, and reaching them young. If we want to truly change the future, we have to create a society-wide shift in consciousness. We have to ensure that young children are taught to value their female counterparts, and that young men grow up with a different mindset than previous generations. We have to ensure that men themselves are strong proponents of women’s rights. My mother always tells me how her father, in the 1960s and 1970s in India, always insisted on his three daughters - along with his son - gaining the maximum education possible. Without my grandfather’s belief in his daughters, I certainly wouldn’t be where I am now.

A very good example of this is the project of Ashoka Fellow Magdy Aziz in Egypt. Aziz is working to promote gender equity in Egypt by teaching children about their rights and empowering them to exercise these rights. He is working to provide boys and girls avenues to freely express themselves while exploring gender-related themes in school. The program lays “the groundwork for long-term changes in social attitudes toward women inside and outside school walls.” By reaching kids when they are young and educating them in the language of tolerance, I really believe programs like this have the right vision for the future.

Strangely, even though this blog talks a lot about human rights, I haven’t once written about women’s rights or domestic violence issues. I guess it’s because I somehow feel like it’s already a movement in it’s own right, and I don’t need to bring attention it here. True, we have all heard of the issues. But just because there’s awareness does not mean there is sufficient effective action. There is ample room for innovation and change, but the best thing is - I think it’s happening right now, before our very eyes.

Photo credit: here
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