While the country was still reeling from the horrific killing of Nikki Bhati in Greater Noida, with her six-year-old son as a witness, another similar killing from Navi Mumbai, over the alleged suspicion of an affair, made headlines. This time, there was no dowry demand – just misogyny cloaked in a different form, with the couple’s seven-year-old daughter as the eye witness. The fact that many such violent incidents are not just dowry-related, but rooted in a broader hatred and disregard for women, speaks volumes. 

Marriage: A pact between men, paid for by women 

Much has been written about the dowry system. Laws have been enacted – though rarely enforced. There is widespread outcry, efforts to shame both givers and takers, awareness campaigns to reach the grassroots, textbook lessons and countless other implicit and explicit acknowledgments of this deeply regressive practice. And yet, despite all this, dowry remains a reality in India. While men often handle the ‘business’ of dowry, it is women who are treated like property, made to suffer for financial negotiations they did not choose to be a part of. The outcomes of such deals-gone-awry shapes the future, safety and quality of life for women.

It wouldn’t be unnatural or inaccurate to observe that women face heightened vulnerability after marriage. Not because they are inherently weak, but because they are structurally disadvantaged. 

A culture with questionable scruples often fails to protect its women from all pervasive violence they are subjected to – at home (natal and marital) and from their own family members. And if that's not enough, women who choose to report are endlessly exposed to social and institutional apathy and relentless scrutiny. Dismantling the structures of patriarchy also demands dismantling the flawed concepts of how someone at the receiving end of abuse decides to approach the justice system. 

The fallacy of a perfect victim 

We live in a society which invariably upholds a rigid framework on which women are deemed worthy of sympathy, especially when they have endured violence. Hinging largely on a moral litmus test, only those who embody an idealised version of purity, passivity and innocence are seen as deserving of compassion, caste and class no bar. When a young tennis player in Gurgaon was recently killed by her father, it was revealed that her community thought it was its moral duty to shame the father for ‘allowing’ his daughter to dream big. 

Saint and sinner – two cardinal categories to reinforce the dichotomy of women suffering. This not just imposes unrealistic standards on those women who survive violence but also lends a rather huge hand in enabling the perpetrators. The 2012 Delhi gang-rape case was one such mirror which exposed the society’s lens with which it viewed the victim. Questions about why she was out at night or if she was wearing ‘appropriate’ clothes, to her male company – every single inconsequential detail was up for scrutiny. 

Women, oftentimes, struggle to register complaints of violence in its nascent stage. This struggle stems from an age-old narrative that low-intensity violence must be brushed under the carpet to preserve the illusion of peace and unity, thereby protecting dangerous men. Our subtle tendencies to look past emotional abuse, manipuation, coercion, and covert threats encourages victims to suppress their pain. The everyday violence that lead to fatalities, which is pervasive in domestic violence, may be insiduous in nature but they carry devastating effects. Nikki Bhati was subjected to regular violence, the families were aware but little was done to prevent it. The male elders also held a panchayat to address the discord but it was mutually agreed that the victim had to adjust in order to keep the honour intact. 

Visible wounds, undeniable innocence, exhausted helplessness – a few of the extensive parameters a woman must adhere to for a society which reserves its empathy for its perfect victim. However, the same society wilfully neglects the several slaps, hurls of phones and other harmful objects, dragging by the limbs around the house and pushes from stairs. If this isn’t difficult enough, it is the woman who is often faced with the disturbing dilemma of how to keep her children safe, often from her abusive husband as well. 

Unfortunately, it takes a charred body, a corpse, a suicide note for us to finally heed to what a woman has always been trying to signal through the stretches of abuse she undergoes. Women, if one truly notices, hardly die of silence because they never asked for help. They die because they asked and were dismissed, because the legal system demands impossible levels of proof, because there is more stigma in leaving than enduring abuse, because friends and family scream in shocking synchronicity, “He seems like such a nice guy.” 

Shifting the blame 

With changing times and access to privileges, women have fought back, with words as well as force too, but a raging woman is seen as a threat, and if she speaks out, especially against a powerful man, she is dismissed as vindictive. The more she resists being victimised, the less believable she becomes in the public eye. This double bind is devastating. #MeToo was a pivotal movement which shed light on the experiences of women who had long been silenced. The fact that so many women were articulate, confident and unwilling to frame their experiences as victimhood made their stories even harder for some to accept. Our culture leans towards victims that fit a certain mold. This deeply ingrained sexism is exposed when women speak out, often getting the label of ‘troublemaker’.

The double edged sword of being punished not just for being abused, but also how we choose to survive, is a cruel reinforcement of injustice. It not only invalidates the harm done to us but criminalises the very instincts that keep us alive. Take, for instance, the term ‘survivor’ which was initially used to denote an individual who outlives another. It was later expanded in the 20th century to refer to an individual who has pulled through some sort of adversity. In the 70s, the term was adopted by feminists and other social activists to refer to rape victims, and then, more broadly, was applied to all individuals who experience forms of violence against women. Now the term is ubiquitous, as it refers to an individual who embodies strength and agency and typically conjures thoughts of empowerment, choice and fight. 

Cultural practices like dowry, prevalent in the Indian subcontinent, are a symptom of a much deeper systemic issue. It’s a reflection of entrenched commodification of women and social control of women. Dowry’s social legitimacy should be dismantled, not just in theory, but in practice, across all spheres of society. The first step towards achieving even a modicum of progress would be to believe the victim of such a menace. We are all complicit in dismissing, shaming and silencing the victims at the first instance. Believing victims when they first report violence doesn’t mean abandoning due process or critical thinking. It means giving the victim the dignity of being heard, taking disclosures seriously and acknowledging the failures of systems that have disappointed the survivors for decades. This alone can shift dynamics. Accountability is more powerful when it prevents harm, not just when it responds to it.

Meenakshi Jha is a passionate writer who works at a school during the day. She is currently working on a book on adolescence.

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