A Serious Post on Being a Foreign Woman in South Asia

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            I really debated about posting this on my blog, mostly because it would worry members of my family who follow it. However, I decided that the more this issue is discussed the better, so I wrote this post for the benefit of all women travelers.

            It is not okay to harass women. It is wrong. This goes for women of all ages, colors, and nationalities, and is true in all countries. I don’t usually make sweeping generalizations like this, but in this case I feel that this needs to be emphasized.

            As a woman, I have occasionally felt unsafe in Bangladesh. When I walked down the street, men might make comments like “very nice,” that were completely unsolicited and unwanted. I found that I attracted much less attention if I wore my orna over my head, like a hijab, so that they would not see my blond hair. However, the comments, stares, etc. never went beyond that.  I have just had my first real experience with sexual harassment, and it was in India, not Bangladesh.

            Before talking about the incident that encouraged me to write this post, I need to mention two things. First, as a white woman, I am automatically an 11 on the typical South Asian scale of beauty. This is regardless of how I actually look, because pale skin is the number one deciding factor here. Standing next to an Indian who has truly beautiful features, skin, hair, etc., I will still (usually, and speaking in vast generalizations) win because of my pale skin. This can be a curse, sometimes, because it can attract all of the wrong attention. I encourage female tourists to keep this in mind.

            Second, I took a self-defense class last semester that focused on both physical and mental self-defense (website: http://www.impactselfdefense.org/).  I was fully prepared for the situation that I found myself in, and quickly recognized it for what it was. This allowed me to steer it away from anything that would be truly dangerous. I encourage all women (regardless of whether they are traveling) to take a similar self-defense class. From my experience, I can say that it was incredibly empowering to know that I understood what was going on and knew how to handle it. I was in control. The rest of this post will be a description of what happened. My hope is that this will be useful to foreign women living in or visiting South Asia.

            It started as I was going to Robindra Sadan to see Hamlet, which was scheduled to be performed at the Academy. As I got down off of the metro, a well-dressed man in his mid-30s asked me in English if I knew where Nandan, the film screening center, was. I said yes, and pointed him in the right direction. He followed me, and asked for more directions. I said that I was going in that direction, and I could show him where it was.

            This was my first mistake. If the man had actually been lost, would he have chosen to ask the white girl instead of the whole platform of Bengalis? I doubt it. At this point, I assumed that he was a tourist from another part of India, but a moment after I offered this, I realized that he spoke Bengali. I continued to talk to him in Bengali for the rest of the time, and (for better or worse) the Bengali practice was the reason that I did not cut him off sooner than I did.

            He followed me out of the metro turnstile, going through on my token. First, this is illegal; second, why would a nicely dressed man need to cheat on a 4-8 rupee metro ride? Surely he’d have the money for that. As soon as that happened, I thought about talking exposing him to the guards, but thought that maybe he had just lost his token or something. He followed me up to the exit, where it was pouring down rain. I wasn’t deterred by this, because I had my umbrella. Since I was still (ostensibly) showing him where to go, he tried to squeeze under my umbrella as well. This is where the real creepiness started, because as we were walking through the pouring rain in the Rabindra Sadan grounds, he put his arm around me. I couldn’t really move away, because of the rain, but I turned away as much as possible. At this point, his actions could still have been because my umbrella was very small and we were trying to squeeze two people under it. I showed him the Nandan ticket counter, but now he wanted to go to the play I was seeing. Of course he did.

            Note to the female tourist: physical touching between people of different genders is not accepted in Bengali culture. If a man is touching you anywhere, in any way, (assuming you’re not in a crowd, where it could be accidental) than it’s absolutely unacceptable.

            I couldn’t see a way of getting rid of him (besides threatening him or finding a guard), so I decided to put up with him and just go about my business until I figured it out. At this point, I was more annoyed than anything, because I would have to be super-vigilant and aware of where he was and what he was doing, rather than being able to focus on what I had come to Rabindra Sadan to see. I went to the Academy ticket counter to buy tickets. He, of course, wanted to come to the play as well. I wanted to sit in front so that I would be able to hear; when he heard the ticket prices, he wanted to sit in the cheaper seats toward the back. But then he paid for both of the tickets.

            A cultural note: Someone else paying for tickets or otherwise being extremely generous is common in Bengali culture.  If someone offers to pay for you, it’s not necessarily a sign of ulterior motives. In this case, as you can see, it doesn’t really make sense that he would want the cheap seats and then pay for both.

            Back under the umbrella, and I was still attempting to figure out how best to get rid of him. We walked into the art gallery, where I could get away from him, at least a little bit. I took my time looking at the art, knowing I was in a public and well-lit place. Several times he tried to stand too close to me; I moved away and faced toward him. Personal space is somewhat different here; people quite often stand closer together than they would in the US. However, what he was doing was different; he was constantly leaning toward me, far more than someone who was trying to have a conversation would. Several times he tried to put his arm around me, but I told him off.

            Then he wanted to take a picture on his phone. This is one aspect that I had definitely experienced before. Female tourists: if you can avoid it, don’t allow them to take pictures of you. It gives them an opportunity to put their arm around you. I don’t know what they use the picture for. However, it is common in Bengali culture to take pictures with (new) friends, so don’t be overly paranoid about it unless the person who is taking the picture is worrying you otherwise. I told him that I hated having my picture taken like this, because it happened to me in Bangladesh all the time (this is true).

            He also asked for my phone number, which I said I could not give to him because it was prohibited by the institute. Female tourists: people (not in this situation) often ask you’re your number; don’t give it to anyone, unless you really do want to talk to them again. If they’re insistent, I usually say that I can take their number, which I promptly erase as soon as I’m away from them.

Having finished seeing the gallery, it had stopped raining so we walked around to the theatre entrance. I had hoped that it would be open, but it wasn’t. He insisted on getting a tea while we were waiting (I think so he could walk under the umbrella again, since it had started raining.) I took him to the tea stall immediately outside the gate, and stood under the umbrella in the rain so I could stay away from him.  It was raining really hard again as we walked back, so, to get rid of him, I moved the umbrella toward me and walked slowly so he would get wet. He took the bait and ran the last twenty feet or so, which made me relieved. After this, he kept mentioning how wet we both were, and touching my soaked sleeve and bag. At this point, I just wanted to get away from him; his depravity was becoming more and more clear as time went on. I tried to give him his ticket (and was going to talk the usher into giving me a seat away from him), but he wouldn’t accept it so I just figured that we would at least be separated by an armrest. He also had mentioned that he couldn’t stay for the whole play, so I was holding onto the hope that he would, indeed, leave early. My seat ended up being on an aisle, next to another group of people, which I was happy about. The armrest was, indeed, useful, but again he leaned so far toward me that he was constantly touching me with the side of his arm.

            This is when the really sketchy stuff started. I had my bag in my lap, and he touched it and said that I should put it over the chair in front of me because it was soaked. It was soaked, but so was I so it didn’t really matter. Then he tried to tell me that all of the women in the room (except me) were ugly because of their dark skin, fat faces, and wide noses, and that I was pretty because of my lovely white skin. He also said that everyone in America looked like me, which gave me an excuse to move the conversation in a completely different direction. He didn’t like that very much, but I kept telling him how there are people in America from everywhere in the world, etc. until he got bored. I told him not to touch me again. Then when the play started I told him to shut up because I was listening to it. About five minutes into the play his phone rang and he left, telling me to call him (as if!).

            Reflecting back on this situation, I can see all of the places where I could have stopped it. I think I made some right decisions after I figured out what was going on. Sticking to my original plan for the night was a good idea, since it allowed me to stay in well-lit, public places.  I stayed aware of where he was, what he was doing and saying, at all times. When I was uncomfortable with him touching me, I told him to stop. I think, in the end, he was frustrated by the experience, while I was not at all harmed. That is the important thing. Lessons that I have learned are: as soon as someone starts to give you the creeps, or does something that doesn’t make sense with how they look, immediately get away from them. If I had told the guards in the metro station, it would have ended right then and there. Make other people talk about themselves; I wish I had done this more, because maybe he would have gotten the hint that I was onto him. I also learned where my limits are; next time, I will put a stop to this kind of thing much, much sooner.

            I hope this account of one woman’s experience of sexual harassment in Kolkata is helpful for others. I decided to post this online in order to encourage dialogue; I believe that open communication on these issues is important for changing how these situations are approached and dealt with. Men like this need to be told that they can’t use other people in this way. The only way that we can really make it safer for women is by speaking out against these kinds of actions and people, through truthful, clear dialogue about what is and is not acceptable.