Opinion Truth about women’s abuse in Malayalam cinema is out. Does anyone really care?

The Hema Committee (HC) report commissioned by the Chief Minister of Kerala to examine the issues at the workplace faced by women in the Malayalam film industry came out amidst massive media and public furore on August 19. The committee was set up at the behest of the Women in Cinema Collective (WCC), a first-of-its-kind movement that works towards creating equal spaces and equal opportunities for women in the film industry. It took seven years, four months and two days of the WCC members’ activism — and being cast out in varied ways — for this report to come out. We congratulated each other, but immediately came a gnawing sense of what would follow. I am not referring to the incessant follow-ups from various quarters on what we at the WCC are going to do next, but a familiar noise, conveying apathy, that has followed.

This familiar noise is of sensationalism, rather than engagement with the gravity of the issue. Sexual harassment overshadowing structural and social inequities has become the key narrative. The committee’s findings are damning not just because of the serious sexual-harassment crimes it notes, but also the constitutional, labour and human-rights violations. The committee identified at least 17 forms of exploitation experienced by women working in 30 different categories within the industry. Some of these violations have been recorded as taking place across genders, although women are the most vulnerable.

This familiar noise is of taking the issue back to the women in order to find a resolution. How insensitivite is it to ask women to file cases and relive the demons they fought in order to share their truth in front of a committee? All this, while knowing well that legal recourse will amount to nothing as there wouldn’t be sufficient evidence to stand the test of judicial enquiry. This is apart from the harrowing mental agony and time that this process would take.

This familiar noise is of pitting one woman’s account and experience against another so that divergent experiences in an unorganised industry like cinema are invalidated. “She said this does not happen” is placed against “she said all is ok” until this she-said tussle becomes the mainstream conversation and sidelines the issue that really needs to be addressed.

This familiar noise is of universalising an issue instead of feeling responsible to find solutions. A film association member remarked, “Don’t these issues exist in other industries, why only blame us?” Apart from the morally corrupt nature of this statement, it is appalling that a peculiarly-structured unorganised sector like cinema, with 70-plus trade occupations engaged with no accountability loop, should be compared to any other industry.

The familiar noise is also of the bystander —- the sense of apathy here is shaped by the assumption that someone else is better positioned to handle the situation and hence they themselves need not have any sense of accountability and agency. Bystanders, please note, the problem of apathy is broken when you speak up.

The familiar noise is also of those feigning ignorance by stating that they haven’t read the report. This is especially shocking coming from government officials who have been sitting on the report for the past four years. To their credit, the Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan-led Left government did set new standards in conversations around gender inclusion by initiating some key measures, including setting up the Hema Commission. But thereafter, its actions have not lived up to its initial enthusiasm. A case in point is the years of silence and non-publication of the Hema Committee report, until a court order mandated its release in the public domain. When it comes to sexism, misogyny and violence against women, there is an underlying layer of human nature that is sinister – apathy. Media spotlight and legal recourse are important in spotlighting issues and bringing about grievance redressal. But I wonder what it will take for us to be able to care for them.

In 1991, Kerala became the first Indian state to be recognised as a completely literate state. A big reason for this accomplishment is seeded in the cultural revolution led by social reformers and the then Left government in 1957. Decades later, the state is at a similar juncture.

At a time when the burden of any reform for pushing gender inclusion and safety in cinema rests on the shoulders of the state government, the question is this: Will it remain apathetic or stand up and do what is right? Will it move beyond brand-building exercises, spending precious public money in organising mega conclaves for a public show of concern for the HC report? Or, will it demonstrate the political will to do what is needed? For, on this depends not only the future of the many women and men who aspire to tell stories that shape Kerala society. The Kerala government’s actions will be indispensable for other state governments to chart a roadmap and create gender-inclusive spaces through their film policies.

The writer is a National Award-winning film actor, dancer and public policy researcher. She is a member of the Women in Cinema Collective