Wednesday, March 07, 2007



The Closet Patriarch



"For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother's milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.""

-- Audre Lorde

Most of us have undoubtedly grown up in households that were in essence governed by conservative, masculine values under the umbrella of religion and social acceptance. i've observed traditional patriarchal systems closely, both at home and outside. i've lived with and revolted against patriarchy all my life. till some time ago, i used to think that i could spot a patriarch from a mile. i was wrong.

Generally speaking though, it’s easy to identify a patriarch when he's within familiar settings and is playing his part to every dismissive shrug. The dominant, need-to-be-and-quite-used-to-being-heard attitude, the compulsive need to be right and righteous, and of course the need to be accepted, respected and obeyed as the master or provider or both. The father provides for the family and by laws dictated by social norms, the household automatically subjugates itself to him. The whole i tarzan you jane; i hunt, you cook isn't just a funny bit from a book or cartoon, it's the reality of most households i've seen.

Patriarchy is innately discriminatory. I don’t even need to explain how accepting a man as your master simply because he's providing for your keep can lead to unequal and repressive power structures. Patriarchs by nature (or perhaps due to their nurture in a system that perpetuates patriarchy) are usually the men in the room trying to dominate the conversations, the one's who make the most sexist, chauvinist, and the most objectionable comments about women, by not just objectifying them but by also undermining their credibility. In most cases, he interrupts your conversation, tells you you're a twit who should be at home minding a kitchen, a husband and the kids or that in more extreme cases tells you that all the women in the world ought to be thrown in the furnace of domesticity. People such as him, are easy to handle. You know they won't pay heed to logic. You’ve learned that when logic fails them they will try to hide under the blanket of religion and society. You’ve seen them treat their wives, sisters and mothers like porcelain dolls who are meant to be admired for their aesthetic value but not credited with functionality. To be fair to them they are more or less vocal about their stance on this matter. They are easy to identify and hence easy to deal with. You know they will be difficult, you know cannot change their values simply because the higher up you are, the harder the fall, and patriarchs are at the top of the power structure and honestly who would want to let go? I meet them everyday when I walk home alone in the evenings and they stare at disbelief at the young girl strolling alone after dark without a chaperone, at weddings and functions when i make comments about politics or world affairs as they are mortified by my attempt to speak up and also at university when my voice is louder then theirs. I’ve accepted them as a part of my life and I deal with them with nothing but impersonal distance and an almost elitist disdain. I feel no shame in admitting this. but i fear, that in the present day and age, when feminism is fast spreading, liberalism or some pretense to it is omnipresent among the circles of the educated classes, religious bigotry is frowned upon and most importantly the fear of lawsuits or of becoming a social or economic pariah prevails at the very mention of 'sexual harassment' or 'gender discrimination', not to mention the onslaught and ensuing fear of ‘political incorrectness' and 'labeling' in our society. None really want to be overtly patriarchal now. Be it in a social or a business environment, everyone will always try to be politically correct. No man will openly display chauvinism or admit to misogyny. Of course they all believe in equal rights and by the same truth pigs fly. Nonetheless, patriarchs are far from becoming a dying breed. They’ve evolved into a newer, more determined group of sociopaths who are still strong proponents of a male dominated power structure. in come the neo-patriarchs, the once hiding behind a facade of liberalism and political correctness, telling you how much they respect women, shunning the shackles of religion and society and apparently embracing your voice, your intelligence and your rights, but underneath it all they're just waiting to strike that one blow, the coup de grace, that will covertly, once and for all, establish their male superiority over you.

The closet patriarch is smooth. He’s über-urban, slick, and well-educated. He is as the song goes ‘fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care’. He knows the Plaths, Greers and Lordes of the world. He can understand and can discuss misogyny and hegemony with you. He says that he feels your plight. Of course he allows the women in his life to have lives outside of the domestic realm and most importantly he treats you as an equal.

You work with them, you go to school with them, and you may even be in a relationship with these smooth operators. But then one day, like a bolt from the blue (pardon the cliché), they strike and you are taught the lesson—all animals are equal. some are more equal than others!

If you observe closely, the closet patriarch bears some intrinsic resemblance to his forefathers.

Despite the fact that he is aware of feminist theories and can quote Rich or Plath, he never admits to an understanding of their philosophies. He never champions the struggle of these women. Of course we don’t expect him to comprehend Plaths’s depression, but can he empathize with the repression she faced? He says he knows them, but he means he knows about them. He will never admire them and will always regard them with a vain condescension.

He understands ‘feminist’ theories he says. He has read articles, theories and essays on the subject. He concedes the existence of an unequal power structure. He admits that women do face discrimination. However, he never misses the chance to label an outspoken colleague as a feminist or a strong-willed female friend as bossy. Intelligent women intimidate him, though he would never admit it, even to himself. So he never fails to criticize, deride or taunt them. When it comes to put you down for your educational, professional or intellectual prowess, he will always be the one to throw the first stone. But ofcourse, he thinks that you are a 'nice' person and that you should be 'given' your rights.

His wife is probably very feminine . She too believes that women should be 'given' their rights. He loves to brag about how well she cooks and how she takes care of him, but you will never hear him praise her on performance in the professional arena. And without a doubt it is imperative that she always be a step or more behind him in the ladder to social success.

My dear friends, these are the men we need to protect ourselves against. They no longer wear long beards or tell you to go cover ourselves. They want you to be naked so that when they strike the blow you feel not just the brunt of it but also your own vulnerability. He won't tell you he's your master. He will work his way into your thoughts, your plans, your work and then your life. He will make you feel like he understands and he empathizes. But bear in mind, he understands because he inflicts and he empathizes because your misery feeds his ego. Afterall, he knows what you know, because it was always a His rule that you followed 
and a His rule that you broke.  And at the end of the day, 
the master's tool really cannot dismantle the master's house.





Monday, June 19, 2006


Rain..feel it on my fingertips..hear it on my window pane....

Rain is what the thunder brings
For the first time I can hear my heart sing
Call me a fool but I know I'm not
I'm gonna stand out here on the mountain top
Till I feel your...raain...
------ Madonna


Rain, rainstorms, storms, the moist gust....they all remind me of this one song by madonna. call me silly but its this one song that i listen to when its raining really hard outside, and like now, i'm at a low.

I wish i was carrying my camera. Not five minutes ago the whole skyline of gulshan---the horizon , or the parts of it visible from my third floor window, was shrouded by dark brooding rain clouds. From what is visible atop the amassing concrete jungle, it looked like God decided that i ought to be a little more depressed and jaded and confused than I already am...and so he let it rain...because he knows i have a love hate relationship with it.

Bored at work. But hey! What else is new? sitting in an empty room, with not a person in sight, chatting with a bunch of happy people who keep complaining of their perfect lives on the other side of the meadow and watching droplets trickle down my alumunium window pane. Reading random poetry online which really isnt helping the mood...just read this..

I shall go the way of the open sea,
To the lands I knew before you came,
And the cool ocean breezes shall blow from me
The memory of your name.

It's by some guy called Lawrence Hope...aah..i love irony...a guy called Hope wrote this poem which rite now seems like the most depressing piece of literature ever, and that only because i havent read hardy and eliot in so long. may i shud. may be that's what i ought to be doing. i think i was more in touch with my reality when i knew what it was. may be i was romanticizing but at least i was dealing with it, instead of hiding behind glorified 'corporate jobs' and 'attractive remuneration package's and 'quality time' or 'lone time' spent on 'romantic dates' with people who arent even a part of hopes and dreams any more....what a fallacy! are you laughing at me? may be....who are you anyway..and wat're you doing reading my blog?

My current mood is very Elizabeth Bishop e...i wanna write a lot. ..there is soo much that i want to say...to vent out...but some reticence compels me to hide behind random allusions and blanket ambiguity...hmph...i wish i could write like her though...at least i would have one thing about my life that i could eventually be proud of. ..even though i'd learnt the hard way..--the art of loosing is not too hard to master...

or i wish i was like Plath..at least I'd have the excuse of failed marriages, or whatever messed her up as an excuse for manic depression...i wish..i wish..i wish i didnt feel like a complete failure at everything..

so much for my blog entries being constructive...if people tend to spew out emotions ( or random unrelated mumblings about profound sounding nothings in my case) like this...no wonder the blogosphere is so cluttered with the last remnants of human emotions...

it stopped raining....i wish i could take pictures...not that anything taken through thick window glass would ever look good, but at least i would have a memory of that one day that i actually let myself think about how i was feeling and just let it out...it does come off as somewhat of a relief that noone..known or unknown would read this blog....
but it felt good...venting it all out...and knowing the one person who'd understand would never bother to read...doesnt care enough to read..listen...understand...whatever..at least i now have a blog...which doesnt reply back with nothings...

Fariha
Somewhere in..office..
on a wet,chilly,lonely monday afternoon..

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Marmalade skies...lethargic afternoons...thoughts of you..

Notice the sky around 6ish in the evening. Some few days ago, my Nordic boss was struck down by a bout of spastic euphoria when he looked outside the window during a meeting and noticed the marmalade sky in its tangerine and peach glory. The horizon ablaze in a haze (hehehe!) of golden orange radiance as we discussed the wonder that is Pageflakes .
Marmalade skies always remind me of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds (yea, big surprise), and summers spent with Farhan. We used to spend a whole lot of time on his roof top, even before he'd moved to the DOHS house. We've spent countless hours just staring at the sky, watching sunsets and just relishing the tranquility of vast orange skies and blissful silence. We havent done anything even half as romantic as that in the longest time. I've been too busy.
So, as I was reminiscing about marmalade skies and lazy,romantic afternoons, I found a picture on Flickr. It's actually a sunrise picture, but it's still the closest thing I could find. The sunset sky in Dhaka is far more tangerine and gold and glows with the jubilation of the people making their way back home from work at that hour, whilst the rest of us sit in our corporate offices sit and muse over the last remnants of our lovelives.
Fariha
sultry summer afternoon
somewhere in...office