As part of our ‘Speaking Otherwise’ translation series, we feature the work of Lovely Stephen, one of the first activist-scholars in Kerala to articulate the politics of Dalit women’s rights. Drawing on the work of the organisation she founded in 1992, the Dalit Women’s Society, Stephen discusses some of the most pressing challenges faced by the Dalit women living in colonies.
Lovely Stephen
Translation: Anjana, Aparna R.
Prefatory Note: This essay was first featured in Sanghaditha’s December 2012 issue, titled Dalit Woman and was guest-edited by Dr Rekha Raj. Lovely Stephen is one of the earliest voices in Kerala to articulate questions at the intersections of feminist and Dalit thinking and politics. In 1992, she founded the Dalit Women’s Society (DWS), Kerala’s first organisation exclusively for Dalit women, in Kottayam district. The DWS’s pathbreaking work ranged across research on Dalit women’s lives, anti-caste theatre productions, a newsletter called Sodari (Sister) where many Dalit writers shaped their voices, and welfare activities for Dalit women.1 Most recently, DWS produced a documentary, Stories from the Margins (ഓരങ്ങളിലെ വിശേഷങ്ങൾ), about its historic work. From childhood, Stephen’s politics was shaped by the community organising and resistance around her; her father, Bishop Rev. V J Stephen, led Dalit Christians in their pursuit for equality and dignity in the Church of South India (CSI), dominated by Syrian Christians.2 As a young woman in the 80s, she was involved in student activism with the Dynamic Action group. She is married to T. M. Yesudasan, also a prominent activist and thinker from Kerala who has shaped Dalit studies, whom she met as a youth organiser.
In the essay below, Lovely Stephen reflects on Dalit women’s issues, interweaving these observations with the work of DWS, moving seamlessly between broad-ranging insights and the specific circumstances of Dalit women in the locality of Kurichy, Kottayam. Stephen’s and the DWS’s work reflects the storied lineage of Dalit women’s political interventions in Kerala. The ongoing relevance of Stephen’s words in today’s Kerala reflects how the afterlives of enslavement continue to take ever-shifting forms, shaping Kerala in the late modern era.
The public non-Dalit consciousness holds certain assumptions and deep-rooted beliefs regarding Dalits and their social conditions, much like the male consciousness carries assumptions regarding women and their existence in society. Dalits and women who continue to embody these dominant beliefs and assumptions often receive societal validation. Alternatively, if Dalits and women can question and challenge these beliefs and assumptions, their struggles gain visibility, compelling society to confront these questions and seek answers. A Dalit or a woman is often accepted by society only when they conceal their lived experiences and repeat slogans that do not disturb existing structures of power. It is only when a Dalit woman either believes or pretends to believe that caste and caste discrimination no longer exist that she is allowed to occupy even a “marginal space” within mainstream women’s and political movements. However, the moment a Dalit woman starts speaking from her own social reality and articulates issues of caste oppression, most mainstream movements respond with vehement intolerance. This is exactly why most political/women’s movements in Kerala often view Dalit women’s conventions and movements as “divisive,” while simultaneously celebrating the movements of upper-caste/Christian women who venture from the domestic sphere into the public as “progressive”. This is also the reason why many “revolutionary” movements display a deep intolerance towards the demand to implement backwards-class reservations within women’s reservation policies.
There are certain moments in life where our own lived experiences help us take stock and shape our perspectives. It was during the period between 1980 and 1984 that I came to understand that many progressive movements and their activists are unable to walk completely away from the very values and ideologies they claim to oppose. These insights were shaped through my engagement and collaboration with movements operating across various levels of social activism. I also came to realise how even the most progressive savarna women, despite their grand proclamations of social change and progressiveness, often continue to carry the pride of their social location and privilege within the caste hierarchy. ‘My dear, whatever the case may be, how can I tolerate an ‘achi’ (a Nair woman) entering our household?’, said a Syrian Christian progressive woman activist, referring to her brother’s interfaith marriage. She could never have imagined my shock at hearing those words; if this was the prejudice a savarna Hindu woman faced, what would have been the plight of a Dalit woman in her place?
It was such realisations that helped me form an organisation exclusively for Dalit women in 1992, based in Kurichy. Along with my friend Resly Abraham, I started mobilising people with great hope. We became involved in several programmes and projects based on the findings of the socio-economic survey conducted among 100 Dalit families in Kurichy. We initiated numerous activities and projects, such as tuition classes for children, savings schemes for women and children, a children’s club, study programmes for university students, a nursery, gatherings for women, a Dalit women’s theatre collective, a credit union, self-employment initiatives, a newsletter, and so on. Women and students from various parts of Kerala took part in the gatherings and study programmes that we organised. Today, what began as an organisation in a rented building has grown into an entity with eleven cents of land and its own building.
It is worth noting that one of our most important interventions occurred in 1995. Caste disputes were prevalent in Kurichy at the time. Conflicts between Ezhavas and Dalits were frequent. I remember with pride that during one such conflict, thousands of Dalit women participated in a public meeting and peace rally organised by us. It was a time when Dalit men could not step outside their homes for fear of getting beaten up. Anyone with dark skin was at risk of being assaulted right away. Such a terrible situation had resulted from conflicts sparked by antisocial elements within both caste groups. On January 3, 1995, we formed the Dalit Women’s Action Council and held a public gathering and peace demonstration thereafter.
Perhaps it was for the first time in its history that the village of Kurichy witnessed such a large assembly of women. “We have not been able to sleep peacefully for the past several days,” the large crowd of women who flooded the Kurichy Mandiram Kavala told the community. “We are unable to commute without fear. We are unable to go to work or the market. We are compelled to live in constant fear, despite our best efforts to remain safe.” Throughout all of these disputes, it is very clear that it was the Dalit community’s innocent members who consistently ended up as the targets of unjust violence. In the peace march, which started at Mill Kavala and travelled past the Ennaykkachira Outpost before arriving at Mandiram Kavala, women sang loud and fierce:
“We will protect, we will protect,
We, women, will protect,
The rights we won by chopping breasts
and trading our dignity,
the right to travel,
the right to freedom
We will protect, we will protect,
We, women, will protect.”
We were unable to notify or involve other organisations since all of this had taken place at short notice. The only person who was able to support us in time was Elizabeth Philip, the Kottayam-based founder of “Sahaja.” Elizabeth accompanied us to the public meetings and the rally, and also addressed the crowd. I consider our intervention, which helped end caste disputes, as evidence of the solidarity and unity of Dalit women as a collective.
However, the reality that Dalit women are increasingly getting marginalised forces us to think critically. Even more concerning is the fact that the situation of Dalits has not improved substantially in recent years. According to the Kurichy Grama Panchayat’s development report from 1997, the panchayat had nine colonies. But according to research done in 2012, the number has increased to almost twenty colonies. The results of a 1992 survey by the Dalit Women’s Society have also been included in the Panchayat development report’s chapter on “Scheduled Caste and Scheduled Tribe Welfare.” A study on violations of children’s rights in Kurichy Panchayat colonies conducted jointly by the Dalit Women’s Society and Cry India has been ongoing since 2012. The results reveal unsettling facts about the living conditions of the Dalit community.
Approximately ninety-two per cent of the residents in the surveyed colonies are Dalits. They live in single-room houses built on plots of land measuring one, two or three cents. Most of them have settled down in these areas due to extreme poverty. The majority of these colonies are either in low-lying areas or up in the higher hills. As a result, obtaining clean drinking water is a huge problem. The percentage of people with their own wells is approximately 35%. When it rains, life in the low-lying areas is quite challenging. The percentage of people without toilets is about 7% in these settlements. Nearly half of Indians, according to the 2011 Census, defecated in the open, although just 3.8% of Keralites were reported to do so. However, while entering the colonies, we discover that the percentage of people who practise open defecation is about 7%.
Life in the colonies is extremely difficult for women and girls. The girls who admitted that they had to defecate in public areas due to a lack of toilets, later ran behind the surveyors, requesting them thus: “Please do not write this down when you prepare the report; it is humiliating for us”. As a result of the lack of toilets and adequate facilities to keep themselves clean, women experience a variety of health issues. Their condition is made worse by the unhygienic surroundings and the repeated usage of the same set of clothes during menstruation. Girls are provided neither security nor privacy. The majority of the males in these colonies are alcoholics who physically abuse women and children, and it is common for them to brew and sell alcohol. However, women are reluctant to discuss these experiences in public.
The level of education is also quite low in these regions. The percentage of women who have passed the tenth standard is approximately twenty-four per cent, compared to just nineteen per cent of males. Children’s schooling is also significantly impacted by their parents’ low educational status. Children are unable to learn well due to their challenging living circumstances and lack of resources at home. The majority of them are not even proficient in reading and writing. For them, subjects like Hindi and English are particularly challenging.
Kids in these colonies suffer from rampant malnutrition. People do not receive even the benefits offered by the government’s public distribution system, as over half of the colony’s population falls under the APL (Above Poverty Line) category. Another significant problem faced by these colony-dwellers is the pervasiveness of communicable diseases. The problem is made worse by the lack of an adequate wastewater drainage system and the unavailability of clean drinking water. It is significant to note that it is women and girls who suffer the most. Mothers and daughters wait in queues at the ration store, while the males queue up at the Beverages Corporation outlet. Consequently, women end up striving tirelessly to make ends meet.
Even while facing these challenges, Dalit women do not possess a clear understanding of their rights or the structural origins of their issues. They view most of these problems as a normal and unavoidable part of life. They also fail to comprehend that it is a denial of their basic human rights and justice that has created the cruel conditions under which they are compelled to live. Therefore, it becomes our duty to guide Dalit women toward a more accurate and comprehensive awareness of their rights and challenges. We should be able to take up this challenge.
