Less Than Perfect, More Than Women’s Month

On my shelf, seven bottles signify a seven step skincare routine. Or, as companies call it: my evening self-care ritual. Most nights, I’m too tired to wash my face. Applying serums, lotions in the right order feels like self-torture. In a year when women, most of all, suffer job losses, take on multiple side hustles, are locked in with toxic families, aren’t all of us, undeniably, exhausted?

NOT A GOOD WOMAN

I’m not a good woman, nor a great feminist. Almost 40-years-old, I’ve no desire for children, a well-kept boho-chic country home, or a partner who is coordinated with me and our white, rustic surroundings. Nor do I burn with passion for a fierce, rising career path. I’m neither well-behaved, nor making history. Many days, I’ve rested on to pillow-soft buns of McDonald’s Fillets-of-Fish – eaten using just-masturbated-with hands. I’ve consumed more wine and sexist television shows than well-being podcasts and feminist literature.

You get it: I’m not a model woman. None of us is. How can we be? Just look at the expectations stacked on us. Tropes such as wife, homemaker, cook, bahu (daughter-in-law), a mother are being called out for being outdated.

Today’s woman is the boss bitch, the chic CEO, and the one with impossibly untextured skin. Now, a complete woman wakes up before the sun, meditates, exercises, journals, downs homemade kale and chia smoothie, takes care of a gazillion house plants, enjoys continued success in her chosen career, all without sweating away her perfectly contoured no-make-up make-up look.

THE BOSS BITCH TRAP

The concept of a Blair-like boss girl is attractive, but the underlying standards remain, as before, unreal. This is one-dimensional feminism marketed in a swankier package. The tagline for this new PR-friendly version – Women just want FUN-damental rights – isn’t as fun or straightforward as it’s made out to be. Perfection feminism is like an Instagram filter. Sure, it’ll make you look good for a photo or 15 seconds long video. But, it distorts reality.

Women’s fundamental rights don’t stop at being allowed to work in a male-dominated field or getting equal pay for equal work. We, and our ancestors, didn’t fight for 200 years for the right to glass skin or endless energy. Nobody marched for the right to be impeccable.

You may also enjoy: Dior’s Faux Feminism

THE REALITY

Globally, we are still 50 years away from equitable pay. India, a champion for Beti Padao, has yet to even table an Equal Pay law. We haven’t even ended period tax when one out of four girls drop out of school once she starts menstruating. That is our actuality. These fundamental rights, which are neither sexy nor fun, are what feminism is still demanding.

And then, there’s a pandemic. Women frontline health workers were left unpaid for months. More women than men lost jobs. Transgender women, Dalit and Bahujan women saw levels of violence and disrespect that most of us cannot dare to imagine. PR-friendly feminism addresses none of these issues. Not just because such problems are complex and have no single answers, but because they’re not profitable and not pretty.

You may also enjoy: Double Burlesque

BEYOND WOMEN’S MONTH

Tomorrow, there will be numerous stories of women who did it all and have it all. Magazines and newspapers will be splashed with pictures of women – from our past and our present – enjoying wholesome, successful lives. Photos of pearly white teeth, eco-friendly stylised clothes, and determined expressions that imply: “If she can do it, so can you.” They’ll parade out feminism’s greatest hits in listicles and short profiles. We will recognise most of the names and faces, if not all. These role models of past and present that fought and won their battles. And, even those of us who brandish our tee-shirts saying “Women don’t owe you perfect/pretty/nice” will wonder: if she was able to do it, why haven’t I?

Fuck that.

Women have to work twice as hard as men to get the same pay, promotions, respect and prominence. As one such specimen of this gender, I gotta admit, again: I am fatigued with just this much weight on my back. There’s no place for a cape and no time or the inclination to be a superwoman.

I imagine you feel similarly.

LIVED TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY

Let’s not celebrate superwomen this month. Instead, use March (really, all year, every year) to enjoy and uplift ordinary women. Commend women who’ve been rejected from a million job openings and are barely holding ourselves together. Applaud the everyday woman still figuring out her place in the world – be she 18-years-old or 40. Rejoice in her survival. She lives to fight another day.