When a male writes an article supporting womanhood, he is considered feminist. When a guy studying in a college writes an article supporting womanhood, he is thought to be trying to come across as a 'noble' being.
When only three genders exist for classifying our entire human race, how long is a person expected to keep writing about his/her own gender?
Some stories retain their effectiveness only when heard from a member of the opposite gender.
Some stories need to be told on days that are singled out for the celebration of a particular aspect of humanity so that the attention would be stronger.
Some stories simply need to be brought out.
Stories like this.
****
It was the beginning of the 1980's. Probably, around the year 1982.
Dustin Hoffman, who had already gained attention for his roles in the films The Graduate, All the President's Men and Kramer vs. Kramer had decided along with his friend to star in a film that required him to disguise himself as a woman.
It was not a story that required a man to disguise himself as a woman so that it would appear funny. It was a story that required the 'woman' to be taken seriously.
Hoffman realized that the seriousness could be brought about only when the audience accepted the 'woman' character wholeheartedly. The character had to appear normal. It could not run the risk of being weird.
Having made a deal with the producers that the film had to be dropped if he could not appear normal as a 'woman', Hoffman proceeded with the make-up test.
Once the make over was completed, Hoffman got to watch his appearance as a woman. As he looked at his transformation, there was only one thing that struck him.
He had been changed into a woman. All that needed to be done was that he had to be made pretty.
He felt that he couldn't be a woman unless he was pretty.
He asked the artists in the make-up department to make him appear more beautiful. And the reply he got from them, in Hoffman's own words, was
"That's as good as it gets."
And it shook up Hoffman.
Like it had never before.
He knew that the character he was playing was a terrific woman. But he realized that he wouldn't have probably been open to a conversation with her if he had met her in real life because of one simple reason.
Beauty.
The stunning realization affected his life.
And it also led him to make Tootsie.
(A more effective first person account could be cherished in this interview of Hoffman's.)
****
It is not everyday that one comes across such stories. The first time I came across this story, thanks to my brother, I was as shattered as Hoffman had been after his realization.
But however effective stories might be, however eye-opening, they do not settle in our minds firmly unless there occurs a personal experience.
****
I do not remember the day. Probably, four or five months back.
I was walking besides my friend, to his hostel, from the college canteen. On our way, we came across a classmate of his, a girl, who smiled at him. My friend hesitated for a moment before he smiled back.
After the girl passed, I gave him a cunning smile as amateur boys usually do. He asked me if I would not do something similar and I replied, jovially, that I never lifted my stare off the ground while walking opposite people.
As we walked further, my friend suddenly stopped and looked around nervously. I inquired him as to what had happened. He let out a sigh and said that he had checked if any of his class boys were around. He explained that he would become an object of ridicule amongst his class boys if they had caught him exchanging smiles with the girl. I needed no further explanation since I was a hosteler and I was aware of such ridicules. But I guess the friend possibly wanted to justify the ridicule of his class boys and he asked me if I had seen the girl's face properly. I had not and I replied the same.
The next two sentences that he uttered are two lines that I would never be able to forget.
"Ava munji la orae pulli, pulli'ya naraya pimples, rashes maari irukkum da. Nalla ponnu thaan but ava face naala naraya pasanga kalaaipaanga."
(Her face would be filled with rashes and pimples. She is, of course, a fine girl but that 'face' aspect makes our boys start the ridicule.)
As he finished uttering those two sentences, I was shocked beyond belief.
I was not shocked because of the silliness of the reason.
I was shocked because my face was of the same nature.
Same as what he had described. Pimples. Rashes.
And as we kept taking every step further, I kept imagining that, at any moment, it would suddenly hit my friend that he had said something that bore a close resemblance to my appearance and would apologize saying that he had not directed it towards me.
But to my surprise, my friend kept walking along with me normally. I couldn't keep it confined within my mind and I asked him, a bit loudly, if those rashes and pimples in the girl's face mattered. He smiled looking at me - looking at my face - and told me to stop worrying about the girl. He still did not seem to mind that my face was also of the same nature.
It was only when he started a totally unrelated topic as casually as possible did I realize that he could not see the rashes and pimples on my face.
For him, they ceased to exist.
For him, my face was just a face. Nothing more.
And the reason - I belonged to the same gender as him.
After an hour or two in his room, I decided to leave and I couldn't leave without asking him the question that had been troubling me since our walk to his room. I asked him if he knew for sure that no boy would make fun of him if he spoke to a not-so-attractive girl, would he speak more openly and in a more friendly manner. He replied with a 'yes' spontaneously.
He added further that many of his class boys who he feared would start the ridicules also spoke occasionally with the girl we had crossed earlier, if the boys were alone. It was only while being as a group that most of the problems arose.
And it taught me one thing.
No person, individually, intends any harm. Never.
Things that are generally hidden for the fear of being ridiculed if spoken out are the primary cause, instead.
****
When I decided to type down this post, I was reluctant for a while.
This is a post that screams to stop the beauty/gender bias and yet is filled with stories that revolve around beauty/gender bias.
But sometimes, there arises a need to analyse an issue extensively before tearing it down.
Like rationalists are generally asked to do before they become one.
And I believe that a rationalism is what could serve as the possible solution for the theme of this post.
A rationalism that stops giving importance to something that possibly amounts to a feel good vibe and nothing else.
A rationalism that starts embracing humans the way they are.
When only three genders exist for classifying our entire human race, how long is a person expected to keep writing about his/her own gender?
Some stories retain their effectiveness only when heard from a member of the opposite gender.
Some stories need to be told on days that are singled out for the celebration of a particular aspect of humanity so that the attention would be stronger.
Some stories simply need to be brought out.
Stories like this.
****
It was the beginning of the 1980's. Probably, around the year 1982.
Dustin Hoffman, who had already gained attention for his roles in the films The Graduate, All the President's Men and Kramer vs. Kramer had decided along with his friend to star in a film that required him to disguise himself as a woman.
It was not a story that required a man to disguise himself as a woman so that it would appear funny. It was a story that required the 'woman' to be taken seriously.
Hoffman realized that the seriousness could be brought about only when the audience accepted the 'woman' character wholeheartedly. The character had to appear normal. It could not run the risk of being weird.
Having made a deal with the producers that the film had to be dropped if he could not appear normal as a 'woman', Hoffman proceeded with the make-up test.
Once the make over was completed, Hoffman got to watch his appearance as a woman. As he looked at his transformation, there was only one thing that struck him.
He had been changed into a woman. All that needed to be done was that he had to be made pretty.
He felt that he couldn't be a woman unless he was pretty.
He asked the artists in the make-up department to make him appear more beautiful. And the reply he got from them, in Hoffman's own words, was
"That's as good as it gets."
And it shook up Hoffman.
Like it had never before.
He knew that the character he was playing was a terrific woman. But he realized that he wouldn't have probably been open to a conversation with her if he had met her in real life because of one simple reason.
Beauty.
The stunning realization affected his life.
And it also led him to make Tootsie.
(A more effective first person account could be cherished in this interview of Hoffman's.)
****
It is not everyday that one comes across such stories. The first time I came across this story, thanks to my brother, I was as shattered as Hoffman had been after his realization.
But however effective stories might be, however eye-opening, they do not settle in our minds firmly unless there occurs a personal experience.
****
I do not remember the day. Probably, four or five months back.
I was walking besides my friend, to his hostel, from the college canteen. On our way, we came across a classmate of his, a girl, who smiled at him. My friend hesitated for a moment before he smiled back.
After the girl passed, I gave him a cunning smile as amateur boys usually do. He asked me if I would not do something similar and I replied, jovially, that I never lifted my stare off the ground while walking opposite people.
As we walked further, my friend suddenly stopped and looked around nervously. I inquired him as to what had happened. He let out a sigh and said that he had checked if any of his class boys were around. He explained that he would become an object of ridicule amongst his class boys if they had caught him exchanging smiles with the girl. I needed no further explanation since I was a hosteler and I was aware of such ridicules. But I guess the friend possibly wanted to justify the ridicule of his class boys and he asked me if I had seen the girl's face properly. I had not and I replied the same.
The next two sentences that he uttered are two lines that I would never be able to forget.
"Ava munji la orae pulli, pulli'ya naraya pimples, rashes maari irukkum da. Nalla ponnu thaan but ava face naala naraya pasanga kalaaipaanga."
(Her face would be filled with rashes and pimples. She is, of course, a fine girl but that 'face' aspect makes our boys start the ridicule.)
As he finished uttering those two sentences, I was shocked beyond belief.
I was not shocked because of the silliness of the reason.
I was shocked because my face was of the same nature.
Same as what he had described. Pimples. Rashes.
And as we kept taking every step further, I kept imagining that, at any moment, it would suddenly hit my friend that he had said something that bore a close resemblance to my appearance and would apologize saying that he had not directed it towards me.
But to my surprise, my friend kept walking along with me normally. I couldn't keep it confined within my mind and I asked him, a bit loudly, if those rashes and pimples in the girl's face mattered. He smiled looking at me - looking at my face - and told me to stop worrying about the girl. He still did not seem to mind that my face was also of the same nature.
It was only when he started a totally unrelated topic as casually as possible did I realize that he could not see the rashes and pimples on my face.
For him, they ceased to exist.
For him, my face was just a face. Nothing more.
And the reason - I belonged to the same gender as him.
After an hour or two in his room, I decided to leave and I couldn't leave without asking him the question that had been troubling me since our walk to his room. I asked him if he knew for sure that no boy would make fun of him if he spoke to a not-so-attractive girl, would he speak more openly and in a more friendly manner. He replied with a 'yes' spontaneously.
He added further that many of his class boys who he feared would start the ridicules also spoke occasionally with the girl we had crossed earlier, if the boys were alone. It was only while being as a group that most of the problems arose.
And it taught me one thing.
No person, individually, intends any harm. Never.
Things that are generally hidden for the fear of being ridiculed if spoken out are the primary cause, instead.
****
When I decided to type down this post, I was reluctant for a while.
This is a post that screams to stop the beauty/gender bias and yet is filled with stories that revolve around beauty/gender bias.
But sometimes, there arises a need to analyse an issue extensively before tearing it down.
Like rationalists are generally asked to do before they become one.
And I believe that a rationalism is what could serve as the possible solution for the theme of this post.
A rationalism that stops giving importance to something that possibly amounts to a feel good vibe and nothing else.
A rationalism that starts embracing humans the way they are.
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