You probably think this is a loony suggestion but I think it’s the pre-eminent hallmark of a robust democracy. When we come together as a group in public space to express our dissent (in non-violent ways), we assert our citizenship and our constitutional right.
That right which allows for a plurality of voices, a diversity of opinions to flourish in our Republic. For a brief while, we have the chance to feel as if we belong to something bigger than ourselves. It strengthens our relationship not just to our cause but makes our claim to public space all the more real.
In the last two weeks, we have witnessed mass protests under the ‘Not In My Name’ (#NotInMyName) banner in at least 27 locations across India including Bengaluru, Chennai, Delhi, Kochi, Mumbai, Patna, and Hyderabad. Their aim was to rip open the silence of ordinary citizens and the government on the lynchings and killings, particularly of Muslims and Dalits, taking place with horrifying regularity in the country by vigilante mobs.
Each one of these public protests transformed the spaces they occupied.
Cities like Mumbai, held more than one protest. This included a quiet stand-in with placards by the sea as well as a long march of a few thousand people, replete with slogans and songs, through the centre of the city. It almost seemed as if by descending onto the street around a common cause, some of our differences – including those related to status, community, gender, sexuality – were momentarily levelled out. Across the country, one witnessed an evening where strangers of all kinds came together in solidarity – Hindus and non-Hindus, young and old, men and women, straight, queer and trans, workers and the middle-class, activists and professionals. While there were no dramatic transformations, what the protests offered was the possibility of a changed discourse. For women, the idea of occupying public space for political protest has always been challenging since protests attract attention and avoiding attention on the streets is something that women have been told all their lives.
“The cause is bigger than any one of us. There was no way I wouldn’t be here,” said a middle-aged woman professional at the Carter road protest. Young women, who had never attended a street protest, said their activism to date was limited to signing petitions online. “But it was time to come out and be physically present to register our protest,” said a 24-year old woman.
“After all, how much can online outrage help,” said a woman independent filmmaker. “It feels energising to be out here in my city with my city. Maybe by seeing us present here, others will feel less intimidated and raise their voice too.”
Others celebrated more mundane things. A 70-year old woman I walked alongside during the march in Dadar, where one side of the street had been cordoned off to protesters, quietly mentioned, “I feel bad holding up traffic but really this is the only time as a pedestrian I’ve managed to walk in the middle of the road and own it!”
Occupying the street for protest is an old story. Several successful revolutions, such as the French, began on the street. In 1930, Mahatma Gandhi chose to march 241 miles to Dandi in order to resist the salt tax imposed by the colonial British government.
He drew attention of the authorities but also of ordinary Indians on the wayside who felt emboldened to join the civil disobedience movement. Even as governments increasingly clamp down on the use of public spaces for protest, recent people’s movements such as New York’s Occupy Wall Street and the Egyptian revolution in Cairo’s Tahrir Square offer hope that to provoke change and disrupt boundaries, what you need is to show up and march.It may not always be enough, as critics say, but it’s a start.
Sameera Khan is a Mumbai-based journalist, researcher and co-author, Why Loiter? Women & Risk on Mumbai Streets
