Twinn Swan

Is this who I truly am, I wonder each time I find myself dressed in traditional Indian attire. The snake sheds its old skin when it realises that it no longer needs it. And yet, here I am, embracing the beauty of tradition for the first time in my life. There is something wondrously beautiful about these clothes that I cannot put into words. I am smitten by their embroideries and by the hues and patterns that convey a depth of meaning.

I’m not entirely sure what inspired this Renaissance in me. I just know that in embracing modernity with all its myriad of options, something precious was lost. It was lost because no one thought to hand it down. It was lost because mother never thought to hand it down. It was lost because for a mother, a daughter was never a priority the way her sons and her husband were.

A mother in ages past may have loved her daughters, but they were not a priority in her life. This is the sad truth that I feel I must stomach as I poured over the lives of women in many cultures. At the same time, I know that the strength with which a matriarch could run a large household could easily fill volumes and volumes of leadership books. But few of these books have been written, let alone read.

And yet, when I hark back to the times of my foremothers, I am overwhelmed by what can be described as a great sense of sadness.

It is not for me to judge the choices that people made under the circumstances that they made them. And yet, we find ourselves making judgments all the time. I find myself questioning the validity and the value of orthodoxy when I live in a world that is increasingly ‘modern’, over sexualised and more image conscious than ever before.

Must I be that thin, that picturesque and that unblemished to be considered beautiful?

What is this great sadness I feel? I feel it because the greatest and sole goal and aim in the life of my foremothers was to get married, have children and run a household. Her life centred around an intricate pattern of difficult relationships that took tremendous willpower and sensitivity to navigate. The housewife was a leader. Have no doubt. She, too, could rule with an iron fist and completely fail to own up to a single one of her shortcomings.

Theirs was a world of severe restrictions, back-breaking responsibilities, undying selflessness and a preference for male children over their female children. Read any prayer book and you will hear time and again how the mothers of old prayed for sons. Your true mother, in a sense, was not the mother you had when you were born, but the infamous and notorious Mother-in-Law figure that is a staple in all soapies around the world.

My era is one where I am–like many others–seeing the rampant over sexualisation that is not only normalised but also celebrated and glorified. This is the Kool-Aid that my generation has grown up with. Be repressed and oppressed no more! Celebrate your sexuality! Reveal it to the world! Be yourself! Discover yourself!

On the other end of the spectrum is orthodoxy and modesty. It hasn’t vanished. It still exists. Within it, a woman’s role remains one that is mostly hidden. A woman’s role remains one that is unseen and unheard, except by those in your small circle with whom you are ‘permitted’ to have relationships with. A woman’s role is one of smiles on the surface and a stab in the back behind-the-scenes.

Abuse, neglect and exploitation are realities when a group of people are forced into obscurity. These are the hard truths for women who are not permitted to be seen and heard. Abuse continues, neglect continues, exploitation continues… I mentioned earlier that it is not for me to judge the validity of orthodoxy for to me it does not seem to be a worthwhile choice. That, however, is only my view.

And yet, for the women who have made that choice, it seems to provide them with a sense that they are exactly who they are meant to be. It is this very rigidity, this very unwillingness to change, this very need to be puritanical that has given them what can even be described as a sense of superiority over others. Women who embrace orthodoxy tend to be religious. It is not always the case, but an overall trend that I have noticed. In my assessment, this inherited tendency is more cultural than it is spiritual.

The number and the amount of restrictions that they put upon themselves is astounding. I have, firsthand, experienced the number of psychological barriers that stand between ‘them’ and the world beyond ‘them’. It is not an embracive lifestyle. It does not compromise. It does not accommodate. It does not validate any lifestyle other than the one they have chosen for themselves. Except they don’t see it as a choice they’ve made. They see it as doing what is right and doing what is expected of them.

My heart feels heavy as I write this. It feels heavy because I realise how burdensome it all must be. It is not easy to stand apart–nay, be left behind–from the general direction in which the majority seems to be moving. It is, also, undoubtedly a source of fascination for many as to why a group of people would choose to remain as they are in spite of ‘progress’, ‘strides’ and so on. It all boils down and stems down to an unwillingness to change.

And yet, I feel that the person who imposes such heavy rules and regulations upon themselves will ultimately impose those same rules on everyone around them. Will everyone fall into line? That depends on whether or not they have a choice. It depends on whether or not they can release the conditioning that they received from their own mothers.

It depends entirely on whether they can see that they, too, are a priority.