2 days ago
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A couple of weeks ago, I was in an upmarket neighbourhood in Delhi for a photoshoot. The sun was already unforgiving, and only a handful of walkers and joggers had dared to step out in the heat. A few children, on their summer break from school, gave curious glances in our direction, but they quickly lost interest and returned to their games. Women walking by offered quick looks, but the men stared – every single one who passed us.
Then one went a step further. Mid-shoot, he walked straight up and interrupted us. At first, we smiled – out of habit, out of conditioning – thinking that he would leave. But he didn’t. Instead, his questions turned increasingly personal. From “What are you doing?” to “Do you have an Insta page?” and “Where do you stay?”, the questions grew increasingly intrusive.
He even wanted photography tips. By then, the polite smiles the photojournalist Elke Scholiers and I were wearing had faded. We were irritated, even angry – but when we told him firmly that he was interrupting our work, we still said it with a smile, albeit a strained one.
Did he get the message? No! He hung around for longer before finally, reluctantly, shuffling off. This incident got me thinking about several things.
First, Elke, a Belgian woman, and I, an Indian woman, remained unfailingly polite the whole time. But we should not have had to do so.
What we really needed to do was hold our boundaries – clearly, calmly, without guilt. Not rude, just firm. But we have been taught that even basic assertiveness in women can be too much. And it is here that the larger narrative strikes me – one that plays out across societies that raise women to be nice and polite under all circumstances.
Studies back this up. In 2022 research found that incivility is considered a masculine trait and hence women are often judged harshly for being blunt, firm or unapologetically assertive.
Furthermore, the institutional response to gender-based violence in India has mostly been to segregate women further. They want women to be confined to “safe” zones – pink carriages in the metro, pink autos, pink bus tickets, pink parks, pink toilets, separate queues.
This segregation does not make public spaces any safer or more comfortable for women – it only reinforces the idea that the public sphere belongs to men.
In the process, women are not just isolated – they are exoticised; their presence is made exceptional, even unnatural, to the point of near-erasure.
This also makes women’s relationship with public spaces purely functional – they must move from point to point with a purpose. More than 50% of women in Indian towns and cities do not leave their homes even once a day – and only 48% of women in urban India are even allowed to leave home alone. With so few women occupying public spaces, our presence continues to feel unfamiliar – something to be stared at, questioned or interrupted.
What is needed is to socialise boys and men to be more comfortable around women – as equals, not anomalies. Studies have shown that a majority of Indian boys grow up without meaningful interactions with girls or any kind of education that teaches respect, equality or consent. The idea that women belong at home, in the private sphere, is still deeply rooted.
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But at the end of it, this isn’t just about one man. It’s about the culture that raised him, and millions like him. Take for example, a recent controversy where a video surfaced online of an Indian man in Venice making inappropriate comments about a foreign woman.
His tone is condescending and lewd. This is not just misogyny; this is the discomfort of a society that believes in keeping its women at home – a society that does not believe women have the same rights to be in public spaces as men do. A society that is so violent towards its women that they prefer to stay away from shared spaces.
India’s own data backs this up. The latest report from the National Crime Records Bureau shows that 445,256 cases of crime against women were registered during 2022 – an increase of 4% over 2021. More than three-quarters of these cases were either domestic abuse, abductions, sexual assaults or rapes.
Every time I am in a public space in India, I find myself unconsciously calculating – my safety, risk, attention, tone – even when I don’t need to. And that man’s behaviour? Just another periodic reminder of why we move through public spaces with caution, not comfort.
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Nilanjana Bhowmick is a writer based in Delhi, India. She is the founder of Wednesdayonline.in, a platform dedicated to empowering women through honest, informed storytelling
