Reading is power: But what happens if you are a girl?

Much of the literature for children being published in our part of the world comprises moral stories, textbooks and folktales. However, what is generally on offer for a girl who wants to read is not particularly promising or inspiring, writes SANDHYA RAO.

THIS is an adaptation of a paper presented at a regional seminar entitled "Health, Power, Media and Rights: from Gender Perspectives" at the Rose Garden Hotel in Bangkok, Thailand, from February 15-23. Organised by the Swedish institutions CENTEK, FOJO, the Karolinska Institute and the Raoul Wallenburg Institute, and sponsored by SIDA, it brought together 40 Asian women - from Thailand, Vietnam, China, the Philippines, Mongolia, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Laos, Malaysia, Nepal and India - in a practical applications oriented workshop to identify areas in health, management, media and human rights that need greatest attention and to exchange ideas on what actually could be done to act upon them.

At the workshop, the paper was peppered with readings, notably from Suniti Namjoshi's Aditi And The One-Eyed Monkey and Ambai's short story "Clear Sky" published in a collection called One World (both published by Tulika, Chennai). "Clear Sky" is a culturally story. It talks about caste, apart from gender, there are language specific references, and so on. Yet, the response to it from a mixed ethnic audience with little or no exposure to India and things Indian, was remarkable in terms of level of understanding, curiosity about issues, feelings of similarity, feeling for linguistic and semantic nuances - which only goes to show what a good, well-written piece of writing can do for a reader.

There are two issues suggested by the title of this piece, one leading to the other.

Let us start by assuming a few things:

1. Literacy is a must for all people, young and old, across the board, in all countries.

2. Many of the problems we face with respect to literacy are common to many of our countries.

3. Literacy means competence in reading and writing and not simply the ability to recognise bus numbers and sign your name. We are talking here of reading literacy.

4. Defined in this way, we find that literacy levels in several developed countries too are cause for concern, especially in an electronic age where the printed word often battles weakly against the vim and vigour of television, computers, video and other multimedia platforms.

5. This brings us to what I consider the most important feature: the pro-active role of reading in the lives of all those who can read.

From my experience as a journalist, editor of children's books and reader, I see how important it is to engender a generation of reading children who will grow into reading adults. Only then can we focus specifically on women and reading. The concern here, therefore, is not just "Are children reading?" but "What are they reading?"

Maybe an example from our experience with working with children will explain the difference. Some months ago, my colleague and I visited a middle level school in Chennai to do a story reading with 10-11 year olds as part of a reading promotion programme. We asked the children what books they read, who their favourite authors were, and so on. All our questions were met with silence. We thought maybe they were shy so we gently prodded them, offered suggestions - still, silence. After about 10 minutes of this, one tentative voice said something. Another echoed this. A few heads nodded. They were talking about a lesson in their English Reader, which they had managed to identify as being their favourite story. That was the extent of their reading. The English Reader only because they had to pass exams. That was it.

On a visit once to villages in Tamil Nadu, I met a dalit child, Vedamirtham, about 12 years old. Surprised and curious by her admission that her favourite subject was English, I managed to persuade her to read from her textbook. All that emerged was a babble of sounds.

Now, Vedamirtham is a first generation learner and we know there are many issues in play here. But in essence, both these experiences, the urban one and the rural one, point to one thing: reading illiteracy.

Going to a third example: an eight-year-old had to talk about the Indian flag at his school's Independence Day celebrations, a two to three minute affair. The child worked on the speech and learnt it off by heart. It was easy then to come up to the mike and talk. It sounded quite natural. But someone later asked the child if he like to read. "Yes", he said. "It shows," she replied.

It was actually quite simple. Lots of children made speeches that day and many sounded as though they had mugged up their lines without understanding any of it. This child sounded as though he understood what he was saying.

What was it this child had that the other children did not? Not just the ability to read, but the power of reading. This intangible power is what makes a tangible difference to the lives of children and adults. Because reading empowers. The place of reading in making the world's illiterate literate cannot be overstated. We realise that it is not merely a question of going to school. There are too many who cannot read in a way that will enrich and empower them. They read, but without meaning, comprehension, discrimination.

What is so empowering about reading anyway? Well, for one, it is a fundamental right. It enables us to improve the status and quality of our lives. A person who can read has more in her grasp and this leads to a sense of well-being. It also leads to social justice, especially with respect to gender discrimination. It gives a chance not only to equality but also to fight injustices and inequities. It opens up opportunities. A true reader has understanding, perspective, and the ability to examine, evaluate, weigh and judge, draw conclusions. With all these, we learn how to participate actively and meaningfully in real democracy. Reading, therefore, is an important tool of political participation.

The Zimbabwean writer Chedza Musengezi said to me once, "People do not mind buying beautiful clothes for their children but will not spare a thought to buy books. It is time people worried about their children's intellect. Because reading puts words at the command of children."

Words at our command. Such a powerful tool. The positive reinforcement it promises can be had only if we take the trouble to read and enable others to read too. As Chiedza went on to say. "Reading makes for better citizens because it makes it difficult to manipulate them."

Citizenship, then, needs readers and good citizenship, good readers, a point made with great force by writer/critic Victor Watson. This is the power we are talking about and it happens because reading is an intense, private exercise. It cannot be dictated because it happens in your own mind. What you read may be monitored but not how you read. That is the source of our empowerment.

Reading helps break down barriers and stereotypes because it helps us imagine the lives of others. We see people through books as individuals, with flaws and idiosyncrasies, so much like ourselves and once we do this, we reach beyond stereotypes and are in a position to break down barriers. Reading connects us and helps us know each other.

One question we might ask is: are not literacy programmes run by governments and non-government organisations already doing this? Yes and no, because their programmes are simply too huge to negotiate the intangible thing we are talking about. It is for people like us, through books and writing about books and reading, to shoulder that responsibility.

With that thought, to get on to the second question: What happens if you are a girl? Have you noticed how when a boy or a man is reading, the elders in the house make out like he is doing something of great consequence? But if a girl or a woman is reading, she is wasting her time. Have you noticed? This is the theme of a poem by feminist/activist Kamla Bhasin, called "You're a Girl: Why Must You Read?" (translated from the original Hindi):

Father to daughter: Read? You? What do you want to read for? It's enough if my sons read, why on earth must you, a girl? Daughter to father: Well, since you ask, listen. Because I am a girl I must read Because I am not allowed to, I must read I feel, so I must read My dreams stretch out to me, so I must read Because I am a girl I must read I must not lose my way wandering I must stand on my feet I must fight my fears Because I am a girl I must read I must oppose exploitation Change laws, make new religions Turn everything around Because I am a girl I must read Learn from the wise Sing the songs of Mira Write my own melodies This is not the age of the illiterate, the unlettered Because I am a girl I must read.

So then, what happens if you are a girl? The bicycle revolution of Pudukottai would set things in perspective. More than 85 per cent of those who lived in Pudukottai district, chronically drought-prone, were absmally poor. Stone quarrying was the main source of livelihood and most often women worked dreadful hours and worse conditions in the 450 quarries there. A total literacy campaign covering nearly two lakh women was launched there a few years ago.

In 1991, when contractors did not bid above the minimum price set by the government to quarry there, the district collector decided to lease the quarries to over 4,000 women. They rose to the challenge because the literacy programme had not only helped them acquire basic educational skills, they had also in the process come to grips with leadership, decision-making, management and business organisation. As a symbol of their "liberation" they learned to ride bicycles. It made a wonderful picture in the newspapers, these women in their saris riding their bicycles because they had found a way to break free of exploitation. And yes, the district collector was a woman.

Over the years, what have women and girls seen of themselves in the stories they have heard? Take the Panchatantra, the oldest extant body of literature for children and which is believed to have travelled to many parts of the globe. Still invigorating, still popular. yet, talking about the Panchatantra in an article published in the newsletter of the Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children (AWIC), writer Swapna Dutta says, "The Panchatantra and Hitopadesa give an extremely unfair, prejudiced, unbalanced and lopsided portrayal of owmen. Whenever and wherever women are mentioned, they are either betrayers, cheats, untruthful, unscrupulous, blindly passionate and in the arms of someone they should not be. Wherever there are men and women, it is always lust, liason and betrayal and that too by women. When a woman is mentioned singly, she is described as one who has no right to exist on her own and who lives just for a man's pleasure. That she should be under her father when young, under her husband thereafter and finally under her son because she is incapable of existing on her own."

To sample something of what she is talking about, here are a couple of examples from A. W. Ryder's translations. From the story "Merchant Strong Tooth":

The logs will glut the hungry fire The rivers glut the sea's desire And death with life be glutted, when The flirt has had enough of men. No chance, no corner dark No man to woo Then, holy sage, you find A woman true. In another example from "The Weaver's Wife": Behold the faults with woman born Impurity and heartless scorn Untruth, and folly, reckless heat Excessive greediness, deceit. Honey in a woman's words Poison in her breast So although you taste her lip Drub her in the chest.

Usually, stories like these are left out of anthologies for children. It was a shock, therefore, to find a rather objectionable tale, typically, of a woman who thinks she has "cuckolded" her "brahmin" husband, in a recently published illustrated anthology. The story ends with the lines: "The clever brahmin caught hold of the lover, gave him a good thrashing and kicked out his unfaithful wife". Even if the story was included "by mistake", there is no excuse for its sexist, stereotypical, cliche-ridden, politically completely incorrect thrust.

What stories like these show is that if you are a girl, you lie outside the experience of reading. It is almost as if women simply do not exist and therefore it does not matter what you say about them. If we believe that we read books in order to find ourselves (or we find ourselves in the books we read, whichever is more appropriate) and since we do not exist in the Panchatantra-type tales, where else can a girl look to find her voice? In school textbooks? And what does she find there?

It is generally accepted that gender stereotyping is, in principle, to be avoided. The reality is often inconsistent with this ruling. In a study quoted by the Public Report on Basic Education in India, (PROBE) Oxford University Press (OUP), 1999 report, a class three Hindi textbook is shown to have 49 pictures of men or boys doing things like being a scientist, a soldier, a doctor, a teacher, a king, a poet. In contrast, there are 14 girls doing standard female roles such as tying a rakhi to her brother, fanning a king and so on.

What happens in folktales? In male-centred tales, women are no more than "pawns or prizes or helper's in a man's life. Women- centred tales generally have women saving, rescuing or reviving a man, often solving riddles on his behalf. Often in retellings, the patriarchal appraoch takes over and the intrinsic strength or integrity of the women characters are watered down. Thai researcher Boonsri Cheevakumjorn, writing in the international children's journal, Bookbird, talked about a study she had done of Thai books for children.

She found that gender-specific roles were typical of those folktales. Female figures were often more inclined to compromise than male characters. They forgave their rivals or asked forgiveness to save the villains' lives. They were also far less inclined toward confrontation. Women characters were under- represented in incidents involving pro-social behaviour.

Just look at collections of folktales and the argument will become clear. See how women are depicted. Watch out for how stories are resolved.

Much of the literature for children being published in our part of the world comprises moral stories, textbooks, stories from the oral tradition, and folktales. We have seen what is generally on offer for a girl who wants to read and none of it is particularly promising or inspiring. Of course, given a go good storyteller, these same themes can be transformed to reflect the times and subvert old, outdated, offensive mindsets. There are ways in which this can be done but, unfortunately, it is the exception rather than the rule.

Yet, because the stories we read can transform us by helping us imagine beyond ourselves, we have to continue to search for good stories and storytellers and pass them on to our readers. For instance, in a Tulika book called Aditi And The One-Eyed Monkey, author Suniti Namjoshi shows how a young girl quite naturally sets out on a perilous journey to find and slay a dragon. Her friends on this journey are an elephant, a monkey and an ant (the only male in the group). Nothing in the story is overstated - not the plot, not the characterisation, not the gender roles. It is a thrilling adventure tale, equally for girls and boys, women and men.

These are the books in which girls find their own voices, their own images. It is not what stories say but how they make you feel that is the difference. Once we discover ourselves in the books we read, we will go on to find ourselves in our literature, our poetry, our history, our struggles and our sings.

And then we will write our own literature, our own poetry, our own history, our own struggles and our own songs. That is what reading does.

The writer is Editor,

Tulika Publishers, Chennai.

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