“Micro-inequities are ways in which people are ignored, disrespected, undermined, or somehow treated in a different (negative) way because of their gender or race (or some other intrinsic characteristic). A micro-inequity can be very micro. It can involve an action or words or even a tone of voice or a gesture. The inequity can be a deliberate attempt to harm someone or it can be unintentional, rooted in a person’s perceptions about others. Whatever the source and however minor each separate event, over the years the cumulative effect of these little incidents, words, and gestures on an individual and on various segments of society (academia, business, even within families) is not so micro.”

You are correct that the change has to happen at the ground level, individual and societal. A small step is better than rigid mindset on any issue. Those who stand for nothing fall for anything. Its good atleast UN has taken a stand and we are spreading words about it.

Hmmm, thanks for the interesting bit about Akkamahadevi. So now I’m curious enough to hunt up translations.

>>First, a couple of flippant observations:
Indian scientists — ……. I wonder if it’s any different with women scientists?!

A separate post over the weekend to try to answer the above

>>and how she was able to reconcile her beliefs with the religious texts that she played and taught on the veena.

We partition our brains I guess, look at Bharatnatyam, Kuchipudi, the first pose –‘arai mandi’ is the most graphic frontal pose ever, every muscle, sinew is exhibited unapologetically, in celebration of the symmetry and beauty of the individual parts and the whole. Why do middleclass UC families encourage this art form? When from the age of two, it is drilled into the head of a little girl “sit properly” meaning be conscious of the lower anatomy and don’t draw attention to it. n number of voices take it upon themselves to enforce rigidity in our limbs and behave like it almost never exists. The child partitions quite ably these two contrasting information systems.

It is a carnal art from the lower castes/classes, appropriated in this century up the upper caste mainly Brahmins, who’ve though monopolized it are yet to produce one artist (in my opinion) who can emulate the grace of the body of say a Balasaraswathi (of all the performers that I’ve seen, it is only Ileana Citaristi’s body movements that comes close to the temple depictions.) So, when body art that was gracefully fluid with the devidasi, changed hands into a rigid brahmin woman, the art took on the brick like movements that one sees in it now. Though it is moving full circle LC-UC-LC women learning these arts, the body has become less accepting of the original comfort levels with it, in these art forms.

The notion of body from one class/caste thus filters into the popular. Similarly with poetry, the depictions of body in muddlapalani vs other Brahmin women poets are a testament to this. Akkamahadevi, however is a very complex person, in apparently simple ‘sayings’ she will describe and deconstruct the body, male and female. With desire too, she will acknowledge and then trash it. The fact she uses her own body as the metaphor for all her quests, makes her an irresistible source of insight of body and its impact on the mind.

Caste-Class:
In none of the books I’ve read is Akkamahadevi’s caste ever mentioned, not simply as a honor to the anti-caste times and stance she has held, it is quite possible that she was not a Brahmin, for if she was, rest assured she would have been claimed. Her association with the royal class was as a citizen who attracted the attentions of a powerful king to her beauty. Though it is contested whether she agreed to a conditional marriage or not, her tussle with a powerful male and her rejection of the marriage/proposition is never refuted. She walked way from class comforts in the most symbolic manner by discarding every possession including her clothes (a beautiful, highly intelligent woman in her late teens to early twenties!!). She is a model that will not fall in what you’d call ‘perpetuating male brahmincal/elite world view’. She cannot be caged into a high/low caste, high/low class, courtesan or housewife. She is a free spirit in the truest sense of the phrase.

Will get to the rest of your comment a little later.

Please translate Jayaprabha’s poetry and consider Pavada to post it.

First, a couple of flippant observations:
Indian scientists — biologists, physicists, etc. — are very often devoutly religious and don’t seem to suffer from any sense of contradiction! Given that the Hindu religion is essentially phallocentric, I wonder if it’s any different with women scientists?!

I’ve learned classical Carnatic music since I was a child, both vocal and veena. And I still enjoy it thoroughly. How am I able to enjoy music whose Sahitya I have no respect for? Is there a contradiction here? Actually, I’m aware that it’s only the Swara I respond to, not the Sahitya. I have often wondered about my music teacher, though – atheist and with affiliations to the Revolutionary Writer’s Association, VIRASAM — and how she was able to reconcile her beliefs with the religious texts that she played and taught on the veena.

(BTW: Have you read Thomas Laqueur’s Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud? A fascinating (Western) account of how notions of masculinity and femininity have influenced even what are supposed to be objective, scientific observations.)

I understand the historical perspective you’re taking. When I look back on the literature of my own language: the earliest women writers were either Brahmin or of the royal families and acquired learning because of the support of fathers/husbands. (Leelavati 11th cen, Timmakka, 12th cen, Gangadevi 13th …) An exception in one sense was Atukuri Molla (16th cen) who belonged to the Kummari (potters) caste and yet was a scholar of Sanskrit & Telugu and rewrote the Ramayana in Telugu. Essentially these women were respected because they perpetuated the male Brahminical, Sanskritized literary tradition. One respects them of course for holding their own in what was and still is a male bastion. Muddupalani stands out because she was a courtesan, a concubine, and therefore beyond the pale of this tradition. I think right up to the 20th century women’s education came from sources different from men’s – home, household, childcare, folklore. And there is little record of their thoughts other than in folksongs or stories mothers to this day bring their children up on.

No, regrettably I cannot work on Muddupalani. If I did translate it would be a modern feminist poet like Jayaprabha; existing English translations of her work are by men . . .

(Apologies for the long comment.)

Muddupalan’i is very much on my list of poetry to explore the body question, chronologically there are a few more between akkamahadevi and her, at least 4-5 centuries separate the two, and the body has gone through several different forms…. and poets, actually why don’t you do a piece on her for pavada? i am stuck on this linear walking down, you could give us your insight about the female body in Radhika’s work straight away. please consider

Does this kind of poetry help you understand how the Indian woman perceives her body? For me whether it’s godliness/spirituality the fact that it’s devotion to a male god is off-putting. Consider instead, works like Muddupalani’s Radhika Santwanam . . . ?

Are we there yet, what’s keeping them so long…? :- )

Crazyfinger