Big steps. Small room.
With the #metoo movement getting so much coverage in the US and UK, I can’t help but feel the difference between the social environments I’ve come from and Nepal. The girls and women here have a way to go before people will be listening and responding with such attention. Menuka Thapa, the founder of Raksha Nepal is a loving, badass, outspoken feminist who takes girls into her shelter and is developing programs around the country to help them and other women get back on their feet and avoid trafficking all together. She is constantly fighting this battle, and I believe it will be the influence of her and those like her that will help create a generation of women who will fight back with vigor. I am not pioneering anything, but I am thrilled to be a part of the movement created by women like Menuka Thapa, and to help move it forward by including the moving body in the process.
I have a sense from my work in the first district that this fight is still in its early days. Empowering women so they feel confident and strong enough to speak up is a long road, fighting thousands of years of cultural limitations. A week or so into my program, as the girls are beginning to open up to me more, I have become aware of the reality of their lives. These young women, all from farming families, all want to have careers – singers, dancers, fashion designers, army soldiers, police officers, social workers, business women, teachers, lawyers, nurses, doctors. Until they leave home and get a job to earn their own money, they are under their parents’ control. The next step, traditionally, would be for them to marry and then be under their husband’s control. However, seeing how married life works for women, many of these girls either are not making marriage a priority, or they flat out don’t ever want to marry.
“Married life is terrible,” I have heard. Apparently, once a woman is married, she completely loses her independence (unless she marries straight out of her parents’ house, then she never really has independence to lose). Married women are not allowed to walk or converse freely. They do not leave their property without their husbands. The discrimination between daughters and sons is extreme, with sons having all sorts of freedom, and daughters met only with limits and boundaries. Neither schooling nor learning transferable skills are prioritized for girls.
The young women in this program are very open that they do not want to live a ‘traditional’ life. They must work extra hard to become educated, pass all of their certifications and qualifications, and find a job before they will have the freedom to do, think and feel what they want. We are working to empower them in preparation for the effort it will take to reach that point successfully. Raksha Nepal has created this program so that those in pursuit of social and economic independence will not need to support themselves with prostitution or be vulnerable to trafficking. Some of the girls are still quite young – 14 or 15. In a world where the fight for independence is difficult, it will take a lot of desire and motivation for them to not become discouraged and give in to a life that they do not want.
And so imagine my fury when we arrived at the training center today and were led to a tiny room – maybe 12’ x 12’ – maybe – with a desk and benches (and a dead mouse) – for a group of 25 girls to dance in. We have been in one of two other rooms so far. One smaller than the other, but both workable. The largest room has Raksha Nepal posters and information on the walls – clearly their normal room. And yet today, despite the other (male, talking-only) training groups (about agriculture, an admittedly important skill) we were relegated to an office best suited for a 4-person sit-down meeting. This was a metaphor for the value of women’s empowerment here. Despite this program already running for 9 months, we do not have a dedicated regular space. It implies a rejection of female empowerment, and in this case, a rejection of the use of the body for expression. This is supposed to be their safe space to embrace empowerment. If they can’t have that in the training center, then where?
I know that expressing my anger in certain ways would face different consequences here (and for my host organization) than if I were in the US or UK. I also know it’s unacceptable for the girls to display this anger. Being pushed aside for men’s groups is standard practice and they are used to it. Their words said they were angry, too, although I could not see any trace of it in their bodies. I wonder if they are maybe so used to not being allowed to display anger that even when given permission to show anger in their bodies and on their faces (granted only by me, a temporary fixture in their lives from an entirely different culture), they still struggle. If you’ve spent your life suppressing signs of your true negative feelings, your body may literally not know what to do with them. After all, what can they do? This is just the way it is. What would be the use of expelling so much energy in a pointless expression of anger if no one will listen, care or take it seriously? This is where I believe learning to engage with the body in an emotionally and physically safe way is important. The road is long, and it important that these girls can recognize the feelings they have and respond appropriately and efficiently. Without recognition of their feelings, they may not respond at all; without practice engaging with their feelings, they may be overtaken by their emotions and respond unsafely or irresponsibly.
There was no way to change our current situation in the moment (a metaphor for life?). We were in a small room and needed to figure out how to dance in it as a group. We could not create a bigger room, but we could fight back against the small room. We split into groups and spent each session practicing how loud we could be – musically and verbally – and how much space we could take up with our bodies. I encouraged them to dance as full out as ever against the adversity. I had secret hopes that the noise we were making would disrupt the business going on in surrounding offices (our usual rooms are in their own buildings). We had a lot of spectators, but no complaints. At least we drew some attention. (To be clear, this was a life coaching dance session, not a therapy session. I do not allow spectators for therapy sessions).
But the point we were making was clear to us. We are here to disrupt. It’s a delicate subject, because I have been explicit that I am not here to advocate a rebellion. The way I show my anger and the words I use must be chosen so carefully. I cannot encourage they run away from their parents’ homes or disrupt their family situation in a way that would interfere with food production or the economic status of their household. Even if I felt that would be safe, I would not be here to support or guide them as they faced the consequences. And the consequences could be severe. Leaving home without sufficient skills, knowledge or money could lead them right into forced prostitution or abusive relationships. But this is the time to ‘practice’ getting angry and responding in an appropriately disruptive way, so that they do have the tools to leave when it is safe. They can hopefully begin to see where the disruptions in the dominant discourse must happen. And if they are not able to get angry themselves, whether because of their emotional capacity or their social boundaries, then they can see me be angry on their behalf. They face a very slow process, and the path to get there is long and strategic. They must acquire the skills, education and finances to make the changes in the future. And we must deliver those skills and education and keep them motivated to stay on track.
It will be no surprise to anyone who had any interaction with me during the second year of my MA degree that I feel that embodying agency is an essential part of the strategy. Using the body to help these girls develop a sense of ownership over their own bodies and feelings is a necessary step in the fight to empower women. Even in a small room.