Opinion Priya Ramani’s letter to the wrestlers: Whenever you feel overwhelmed, tell yourself better me than other women who can’t speak up
Speaking up is a privilege in a country where sharing what happened to you can mean certain death
Wrestlers Vinesh Phogat, Bajrang Punia and Sakshi Malik during a protest at Jantar Mantar. (Express file photo by Gajendra Yadav) Vinesh, I’m remembering how you defeated reigning European champion Emma Malmgren 8-0 last year. By then, you were already a veteran member of that elite “first Indian woman to…” club. Sakshi, you entered that club at 23. Now both of you, along with your colleagues, are fighting for a different kind of “first” in the history of Indian sport.
Sometimes the weight of such fights that we undertake can feel too much to carry. Expectations of our strength and resilience; women’s unspoken “counting on yous” and tightly-crossed fingers that hide their hope that we will be able to get justice in a way that we haven’t before can be overwhelming. Drink lots of water.
The backlash when you undertake such fights is instant, brutal. As you know by now, Indian social media sees everything through the black-and-white lens of pro-Bharatiya Janata Party or anti-BJP. Outing a Member of Parliament is seen as a direct attack on the government.
I know this because it happened to me. When a Union minister — also my first boss in journalism — filed a criminal defamation suit against me in 2018 after I called him out during the #MeToo movement, it changed my relationships, my life and my Google history.
Many women, most of whom I had never met, spoke up alongside me. Ghazala Wahab said she hadn’t planned to tell her story but something snapped in her when she read other women’s accounts. So one night, she wrote hers and signed her name. “Everything has changed since I wrote it,” she said.
Even though the experiences we shared occurred long before the man in question even looked in the direction of the political party in power, our “motives” were probed. Others said that companies would think twice before hiring women after #MeToo. Some successful, smart women said they disbelieved us. Key voices such as M C Mary Kom and P T Usha have let you down similarly.
People said we had unleashed a social media “mob” against respectable men; that our stories were not legitimate because we had not spoken up when the incidents occurred. When I won the defamation case in 2021, albeit as an accused, the judge set right the record on the last point: “The woman has a right to put her grievance at any platform of her choice and even after decades.”
Dear wrestlers, I’ve tracked your historic protest since day one, and I can see it’s at a stage where you’re unsure what will happen next. Those who wield power could easily ensure that your sporting careers are over. I’m sure you’ve considered the possibility that you may not make it to the Paris Olympics in July 2024. By now you’ve gotten a proper taste of the cost of speaking up.
It’s great to see that you are being supported by your male colleagues who grew up in one of India’s most patriarchal states — men across the country are getting a new lesson in masculinity thanks to them. Most men have no idea how to deal with the collective rage of women and who has the time to spoon-feed them the recipe? We are too busy healing each other.
With the stress of outing someone comes the burden of silence. People will call you and offer support privately, but say nothing out loud. Some will stop responding when you reach out to them. Others will support those you are speaking up against.
Many mainstream newspapers and television channels will ignore or distort your fight. By the end of it you’ll have a list in your head of “friends” who didn’t “show up” when you needed them the most.
I can’t imagine what you’re going through. You’ve already faced an avalanche of fake news; your training is in shambles; you have been manhandled by the police, and lost access to a space where people have dissented publicly since 1993. There are more challenges coming your way.
Remember, not everyone can speak up as loudly and clearly as you. Some survivors may backtrack because of family pressure or the inability to complete this endurance test. It’s okay, don’t judge them.
Whenever you feel overwhelmed, tell yourself this: “Better me than other women who aren’t as well-placed in their careers and lives.” You’ll feel a frisson of relief when you think of it like this. Speaking up is a privilege in a country where sharing what happened to you can mean certain death. You’re a target of course, but a tougher one than most Indian women.
This country knows you live for sport and you have devoted your entire life to it. It knows that there will be no personal gain for you in this fight — in fact you could lose everything. It knows that you were going about minding your own business, until it became too much.
A good lawyer, one who understands what you are up against and puts your interests first, will help you carry this weight. If you have someone you trust on your side, like I did my lawyer Rebecca John, redirect all well-meaning advice and advisors to her. Don’t listen to anyone. Have a core group you can trust.
I know you’ve been using social media to share your story directly, but don’t read your Twitter mentions, especially on key days of your protest. It’s soul-sapping to see how everyone is an expert on what will happen to you next.
#MeToo laid bare the extent and prevalence of sexual harassment in every industry across the world. You’ve already lined up an impactful group of allies who have spoken up alongside you. I wish the country’s biggest sports stars would pull their weight in this fight too. They need to do more than just tweet. I’m still hoping some of them will stand alongside you as you demand justice.
The writer is a Bengaluru-based writer and co-founder of India Love Project on Instagram