How the system breaks women

It’s hard not to see wrestler Vinesh Phogat’s defeat as enabled by a system. Pic/AFP

I know I am not alone in the disappointment around wrestler Vinesh Phogat's disqualification from the Olympic tournament, after making it to the finals. The message she posted announcing her retirement feels gutting, because her frustration is so real and palpable. The truth is, while most other athletes around the world were busy practising, Phogat, along with Sakshi Malik and Bajrang Punia, was raising her fists against the administrators of the Wrestling Federation of India, then led by long-term president and BJP MP Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh, who had allegedly been functioning with a sense of impunity and entitlement that had gone unchecked.

It's hard not to see her defeat as enabled by a system. Reports said that Phogat had been forced to compete in the 50 kg category, because a player had already been decided for the more suitable 53 kg category. The sense of defeat that permeates her message about retirement feels devastating because it is obvious that she feels broken by the system. This is what living in a toxic, patriarchal environment does to brilliant women, it fails us consistently and unsparingly. It pushes us to spend as much as is humanly possible of our own bodily resources until there is nothing left, until the last drop of blood or sweat has been drawn out and we collapse because we are dehydrated.

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Living away from home, I keep thinking about the brilliance of the average Indian woman, the intelligence with which they live their lives and the resilience they are forced to manifest. What wonders we could achieve if we had systems that actually enabled and empowered us, instead of bogging us down? What if we could genuinely be allowed to be the rulers of our own fates, the purveyors of our own destinies? If we didn't have to bow down to parental forces that are invested in seeing us settle down and be domesticated? If we could walk the streets without fear, our heads held high and defiant, without having to cower down to the male gaze or live under the constant threat of being sexually abused or exploited? We would be unstoppable. And unlike men, we would take our communities ahead with us, we would mobilise and share our agency with others, not keep the privileges for ourselves.

Instead, what we must contend with is a system that privileges a few and undermines the many. Standing up against your own oppression often shaves years off your career. You are punished for it, either directly or indirectly. This is a fact so many women who were vocal during the #MeToo movement can attest to. The powers that be kept tabs on who was silent, and who was foaming at the mouth. I experienced this first-hand in the Indian art world, a microcosm that reflects the larger contemporary Indian reality. I have in mind also the scholars who recently died in the basement of an IAS coaching centre, sites that exist to feed the insatiable appetite young Indians have towards bettering the circumstances of their lives. The flouting of building regulations is another way in which we fail ourselves regularly, because it reflects how cheaply we see our own lives and our disregard for wanting to better our own lot. I have in mind Dalit scholars, many of whom are so brilliant, they could outshine their peers at international universities, but they never get a chance to test their mettle because they have to constantly come up against systems that are designed to repress their ambition and kill their spirit.

This is what patriarchy does, especially Brahmanical patriarchy. It allows only those with certain forms of social and caste capital and currency to enjoy privilege. All the rest must survive on the merit of their own resilience, without any edge. We are told it is up to us to work hard, so that if we do not succeed, we do not question the system but internalise the blame. If we are successful, our success story is also taken away from us, instrumentalised by the state and its systems who happily take responsibility. But if we fail, then it is us alone who must be held accountable. Reading the statement that was released on Wednesday by the Indian Olympic Association, I felt like once again a female athlete was being thrown under the bus, because their message conveniently relayed only the fact of her not ‘making weight', saying nothing about the systemic failure that compelled her to compete in a category that wasn't perhaps best suited to her bodily conditions. As if to say Vinesh Phogat is solely responsible for her failure, when in fact, she has been wronged all along.

I want to tell her how proud I am of her, and that if she chooses to retire at this moment, I fully support her decision to prioritise herself, to opt out of fighting the system. India has done nothing to deserve her, but Indian women are blessed to have her as an idol.

Deliberating on the life and times of every woman, Rosalyn D'Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx
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