Intersections: Why Jisha is not another 'Nirbhaya'

When an important issue is up for debate, I get frustrated when I hear people asking what I perceive to be the wrong questions. Just this week, the news in India has been replete with stories of violence against women, but it doesn’t seem like the reporters are interested in the bigger picture. The public and the media express outrage at the lack of governance and law enforcement when rape is committed, but what about the mindset that underpins this crime?

On April 28, Jisha, a Dalit law student, was found dead in her home in Ernakulam, Kerala. Her body had 38 wounds, there was evidence that she had been raped, and her intestines had spilled out of her body. The public knows her name, but not that of the alleged rapist. In fact, more than a week later, the police still have no suspect.

Image courtesy Angela Ferrao (https://www.facebook.com/Ferraodesigns/)

The illustration above was done by editorial cartoonist Angela Ferrao. Her work appears in a daily newspaper from Monday to Friday, but this image was rejected for being “too horrific.” Yes, it is horrific—but perhaps less horrific than what actually happened. It was meant to be disturbing and provocative, to raise awareness about the brutality committed against this woman and countless others.

Now, many people have likened this murder to the gang rape and murder of Jyoti Singh in Delhi in 2012, but aside from the comparable brutality of the removal of internal organs, there are two striking differences. First, Jisha has not been afforded the anonymity that Jyoti Singh was. The latter was referred to by the pseudonym ‘Nirbhaya’ (Braveheart or fearless), both preserving her confidentiality (and some would argue, her dignity) and upholding her as a martyr. Why? Have journalists become more enlightened in the last four years and adopted a new stance on a woman’s honour, choosing to see the importance of allowing the victim the dignity of her identity? I would argue no. I’ll get to that below.

The second difference I want to highlight is that although Singh and her male companion were left to die on the busy road, where passers-by chose not to act, the authorities were quick to launch their investigation and the suspects were apprehended soon thereafter. In Jisha’s case, however, it took pressure from the media and the National Human Rights Commission to get the investigation underway.

In 2012, the streets of Delhi were teeming with protesters baying for the blood of the monsters who had brutalized this young woman. Celebrities also got involved. Jaya Bachchan even cried in Parliament! Many sections of society, including the immensely privileged, identified with Jyoti Singh. In her, they saw themselves and their daughters. But today, this rape and gruesome murder of a Dalit doesn’t seem to be inspiring the same waterfall of tears across the country. Let’s face it: Jyoti was a middle class Brahmin, whereas Jisha was a lower class Dalit. The societal structure dictates that these two lives are not of the same value.

Many blame the government and law enforcement for not doing their jobs. The masses will not acknowledge that the root of the problem is much deeper. While a Dalit body is open to violence—as evinced in the media on a regular basis—a Brahmin body is off limits; anyone who dares to violate it has committed a great sin, clearly. What the two cases do have in common is the exemplification of how women can be punished simply for being visible, for pursuing their interests and aspirations. But no, the vicious rape and butchering of Jisha is not another ‘Nirbhaya’ case. You cannot erase her caste. Her caste should have been irrelevant during her life, but that isn’t how life works in India. Had Jisha been of a higher caste, perhaps her family wouldn’t have been harassed by their neighbours for 40 years. According to her mother, Rajeshwari, the neighbours would throw stones at their one-room house, destroyed their water pipes and would only allow them to draw water from a canal next to the house. That sounds suspiciously to me like casteism.

Image courtesy Angela Ferrao

Yes, women across all sections of Indian society are harassed, molested, raped, and murdered. No one is denying that. But when you deny that caste is an important part of Jisha’s case, you disregard her struggles in life (and death), the unequal treatment that people from different levels of the hierarchy receive both at the hands of other citizens and before the law, and the disdain for the “Other” that is all too obvious in this society. Until the public can acknowledge this and deal with it, the violence will continue unchecked.