Eve Teasing

For our first day off since our arrival in India a week and a half ago, the girls and I decided to head to Chandni Chowk, a large bazaar/shopping street located in Old Delhi. We got a late start, leaving the house around 2:30 PM, took the metro and arrived in what I can only describe as another world.  We had exited our largely middle class neighborhood in South Delhi and entered into what was described to me by two of my roommates as much of "the rest of India."
As blonde Hannah, Black Tangi and redhead Patricia and I walked down the street, we were stared at and people kept trying to take pictures of us.  We walked down the main drag and headed towards the Jama Masjid, Delhi's largest mosque, located on a hill overlooking the famed Red Fort.

We had come prepared, three of us wearing conservative kurtas and bringing scarves with which to cover our heads.  The towering, red stone structure of the mosque sits atop giant square steps, and was in a way reminiscent of a Muslim, Indian version of the Sacre Coeur in Paris, a picturesque place of worship at the top of stairs overlooking the whole city.  Though we tried to hide our cameras to avoid the ridiculous "camera fee" that applies only to foreigners, the overzealous attendants were very forceful about refusing us entry without the 300 rupees.  So we saw the mosque in shifts, Hannah and Tangi going in first while Patricia and I held the bags, then switching when they were done.  As Patricia and I waited outside the mosque, groups of boys and men literally followed behind us trying to take pictures; some surreptitiously while others as openly as could be.  The inside of the mosque was lovely--traditional Muslim architecture with lots of arches and two minarets.  It was clear that people go there just to hang out; families and couples were sitting in the shade on the balconies having picnics, napping or chatting.  The sky was very blue, a rare sight in Delhi, and looked beautiful in contrast to the red of the building.  Though the soles of my feet got a little burned from walking barefoot on the hot stone of the courtyard, I was glad we had come and seen it.  Our friend Sean met up with us on the steps and together we ventured into the bazaar, which was far from the variety and cool finds we were expecting.

 

The market was mostly clothes, what seemed like surplus goods for cheap products intended for sale in the US or Europe.  Plastic shoes, underwear and bras, jeans, t-shirts, linens and dishes, but all of a dollar-store quality.  The place was packed; at times we held on to each other's clothing and bags to stay together.  As we walked, several men again tried to follow us and take pictures.  All four of us girls had men try to touch us, but we yelled out and physically pushed people out of our way.  Tangi became very freaked out and as soon as we emerged from the thick of the market, we got in an auto and made our way back to the metro (though our driver dropped us off pretty far away and we had the pleasure of finding the station on our own).  The experience in the market completely soured the experience for Tangi, and I offered to accompany her home, while the other three left to go to a park in South Delhi.

Having had more travel experience, Hannah, Patricia and I are far less sensitive to this kind of harassment, and are in some ways more cautious about what we wear.  Traveling in places like India, or Bolivia, or Ecuador requires you to harden yourself to a lot of circumstantial realities: cat-calling, called Eve teasing here, invasions of personal space (whether intentionally harassing or not), the sight of malnourished children living on the street, or rail-thin stray dogs digging through garbage.  I know that this kind of hardening is necessary not only in order to survive here, but also to be able to appreciate joy in other things without feeling a sense of guilty dread simultaneously.  Yet it feels in some way a betrayal of what I have been conditioned to think and feel: no child should go hungry, no animal should be abused, don't let anyone ever invade your personal space, you have a responsibility to others.  Of course Tangi had every right to be as shaken as she was, and she was definitely targeted more than me and the other girls.  But what is the balance between rightly feeling violated, and letting it completely ruin your experience?  Of course I am NOT talking about serious abuse or assault here, and I don't plan on ever going back to that specific market.  But this is certainly not the last time we will be targeted as foreigners, as women, as people perceived to be tolerant of this behavior.  To be less sensitive, to not let this incident ruin my day--is this compromising my integrity?  I really am loving living here and I want to see so much of India.  But this line is one I will walk every day while I am here and I am constantly checking the balance for my own comfort.