5 min readJan 3, 2023 12:39 PM IST
First published on: Jan 1, 2023 at 01:02 PM IST
In 2023, I wish Indian movies and TV shows start acknowledging that getting into bed with as many people as they want is not sexual liberation for women. It is merely the first step towards that.
There’s a reason I have arrived at this extremely specific wish — I was at a New Year’s Eve party where the restaurant played the song Tumhi ho Bandhu from Cocktail. This led to a discussion about Veronica, the party-gurrl-turned-sad-girl Deepika Padukone played in the movie. We agreed Veronica had been disappointing, tried to think of the “right” kind of liberated girl, and came up short.
In the over 10 years since Cocktail, the on-screen liberated girl still dresses sexily, smokes and swears, and has lots of sex. While that is all very well, it is also incomplete, and narrow. Our TV and movie screens are still equating sexual agency with sexual availability, and it is time we grow up and grow beyond it.
This is not to say that there is anything wrong with being sexually available. In a patriarchal society, choosing who they sleep with is one of the loudest proclamations of defiance women can make. But freedom does not always equal emancipation. True emancipation lies in the agency and control you display in bed, in how you handle the morning-after, and if you are absolutely clear about why you got into bed in the first place. None of these is adequately discussed.
The idea that women deserve sexual freedom, that women’s sexuality should be delinked from shame, gained what little acceptance it has after a long struggle. But the popular version it has been reduced to today is not very empowering.
Look at the tropes on screen: Boyfriend dumped you? Have sex. Rebelling against your family? Have sex. Metamorphosing from shy small-town girl to cool big-city girl? You got it — have sex. The problem here is that getting into bed is shown as an end in itself. Was that sex pleasurable for the woman? Was she able to lay down what she likes and doesn’t, and was that respected? The next morning, who decided if they text each other again and what the future dynamics of the relationship will be like? These questions are not often taken up on screen.
If the #MeToo movement taught us anything, it is that consent is apparently still a very difficult concept to understand. In 2019, an ad campaign by condom brand Durex claimed that nearly 70 per cent of women in India don’t orgasm every time during sex. The two facts are interlinked.
Women’s sexual liberation has been, at least in parts, hijacked by patriarchy. Thus, movies and TV shows have agreed that “casual sex” is great and cool, and in fact, a woman who doesn’t think so is a prude. But on whose terms is that casual sex being had?
We are yet to see on-screen couples have honest and non-titillating conversations about women’s pleasure. The two big orgasm scenes we saw on screen – in Veere Di Wedding and Lust Stories – were of women pleasuring themselves, and it was then immediately linked to shame.
I want to watch a movie where a woman thinks long and clearly about why she has sex. Is it only because it is pleasurable and makes her feel good? Or do other factors influence the decision – peer pressure, the feeling of “I let him come this far, how do I say no now?”, or the desperate hope that sex may turn into love later?
The freedom of choice is great, but informed choice is greater. Mass media has the responsibility to spark important conversations, pull out what has been brushed under the carpet, dust it, display it, and discuss it. Sexual liberation is complete when a woman has figured out exactly what she wants in bed, how to get it, and to not settle for anything less. When she gets into bed purely because she wants the experience, and not to fit in any bracket of “cool” or “badass”. When her sexual history is just another part of her life, neither blot of shame nor badge of honour.
This woman on screen would be Bollywood’s new year gift to us.
yashee.s@indianexpress.com