NEW DELHI – I did not even know I was holding my breath until my phone screen flashed the message “Priya Ramani has been acquitted”. And then my Twitter timeline exploded of happiness, tears and hope – of women I know, women I do not know. But we were bound by a joy that felt deeply personal in a country where women are accustomed to daily defeats and disappointments.
What happened on Wednesday afternoon was that an Indian court acquitted journalist Priya Ramani in a case of criminal libel filed by a former government minister against her. In 2018, during a #MeToo wave in the country, Ramani claimed in a social media report that she was sexually harassed in 1993 by MJ Akbar, then a top newspaper editor, when he called her to a hotel in Mumbai has for work. maintenance. Following her allegations, more than 20 other women have come forward to make allegations of sexual misconduct against Akbar – who was then a minister in Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s cabinet.
The allegations led Akbar to resign as minister, but not before imposing a criminal libel – using an archaic law from the colonial era – against Ramani. For the past two years, we have all been watching the case with nervous anticipation as the future of the #MeToo movement in India as well as the campaign for safer workplaces for women in the country depends on the outcome of this case. If she is silenced, we will all be silent. Following the slander, many voices have already been silenced and the #MeToo movement has taken off.
In 2018, Ramani told a court in Delhi that ‘it is important for women in the workplace to talk about sexual harassment. Many of us are raised to believe that silence is a virtue. ‘But even for those who did not believe that silence was a virtue, our patriarchal system has always succeeded in silencing them.
I was 26, when I moved to India after three years working in the British media and picking up work as a correspondent in the Calcutta bureau of an Indian daily newspaper. One and a half years in my job I had to quit due to sexual harassment by the office staff. I went with my complaints to the highest authority in that newspaper. People were mostly unbelievable that I was talking about sexual harassment. You were supposed to grin and bear it, and not file a complaint against a “man of prestige. For even if the allegations were true, I somehow “led him for sure.” There was then no social media, no legislation against sexual harassment.
The incident killed my career while my harasser went from strength to strength in the organization, including praise singing, after contracting a terminal illness a few years ago. My complaint was never acknowledged. It’s a scar I’ve been getting for over 16 years now. I’m still bitter – I still do not trust the system.
And I’m not alone. An annual review earlier this month by the Women’s Indian Chamber of Commerce and Industry – India’s first national chamber of commerce for women – found that nearly 69 per cent of victims of sexual harassment keep it quiet due to a lack of confidence in the system. , fear of retaliation. , and concern about their careers, and a belief that there would be no consequences for their harasser. A Federation of Indian Chamber of Commerce and Industry found that only 31 per cent of the companies he investigated set up internal committees to investigate sexual misconduct.
Back in Calcutta, many women later came to me and confidentially told me that they had also been harassed by this man. But no one would go on record. If I knew what was happening to me, I might not have gone on the record either. For the next few years, no other media organization in the city will hire me, no matter what references I make.
And as I fight for righteousness, they come to me from different places. One male editor sitting in Chennai gave my harasser a character reference; he did not even know me. Female colleagues remained silent, or made unsolicited comments on my character to the human resource manager. My only ally was my fiancé and my colleague – now my husband – who stood by me, but we were already engaged and his testimony did not carry much weight. A good friend who witnessed the harassment also complained about his career. He did well in life and reached the highest management level in various news organizations, while my career was cut short. The chair of the group – a woman – did not even bother to acknowledge my email.
But it was 2004. The Supreme Court formulated the Vishaka guidelines on sexual harassment back in 1997, but there was little awareness — I certainly did not know. The guidelines would be the basis for the Sexual Harassment of Women in the Workplace Act (Prevention, Prohibition and Correction) in 2013, in which organizations are required to have internal committees to investigate complaints of sexual harassment.
After months of these onslaughts, I stagger to the brink of a nervous breakdown. My confidence has waned; I began to doubt the truth I had been going through for months before filing a formal complaint. I stopped seeking justice and instead tried to resurrect what was left of my career in the city, but without much success – and about five years later when I had the opportunity to move on to another to pull city and start anew, I seized it. I managed to revive my career, but the harassment and attack on my dignity remained a deep scar that never completely healed.
But when I read through the court ruling – a ruling that recognizes that ‘even a man with social status can be a sexual harasser’ and that ‘sexual abuse takes away dignity and confidence’ and emphasizes that ‘the right to reputation not protected at the expense of the right to dignity ”and most importantly that“ women have the right to state their grievances even after decades ”- I felt a justification that was my own.
And I was not alone, from activists to the average woman in the street, everyone was hoping that this would be a turning point in the history of women’s movements in India. Gender activist Kavita Krishnan says this victory is important because ‘it will be a deterrent to the next man who thinks he’s just a slanderous case to silence a woman.’
Rituparna Chatterjee, a safe champion in the workplace, agrees. “In a country where the simple act of being a woman feels like a woman every day, it’s great, even though it’s in the sense that we celebrate the fact that a woman has not been punished for her truth,” she said. . say.
The ruling in Akbar’s defamation will set a ‘good precedent for existing affairs’, says Ranjana Kumari, director of the Center for Social Research in Delhi, a non-profit organization working to empower women. “It is so important that the court recognizes that the dignity of a woman is more important than the reputation of a man,” she said.
Kumari, who is part of more than 30 sexual harassment committees, says the ruling will revive India’s #MeToo movement and encourage more women to get legal redress. In 2004, I did not go to court because I was discouraged by almost everyone who said it would only mean constant harassment for me. While I was waiting for the judge to rule in the case, there was a hole in my stomach and my fingers were tightly crossed. Because like I told my husband, ‘you never know.’
“There are a few days that trust in the system needs to be reinstated,” said Pallavi Pareek, founder and CEO of Ungender, a Delhi consulting firm working to improve diversity and inclusion in the workplace, focusing on sexuality. harassment and maternity discrimination, in accordance with existing laws. ‘This judgment will trust millions of women out there who are considering every day, whether they are talking or not. Women who doubt whether anyone will believe them. ”
Yes, that is one verdict and perhaps not enough to set up a system designed to act against women – but if the verdict had gone against Ramani on Wednesday, the consequences would have been serious. At the very least, it would have institutionalized harassment in the workplace for women.
So let’s win in Ramani’s victory – tomorrow we will fight again.