XX Factor

Meetu’s little girl is learning all about gender roles and what she can use to her advantage.

It makes me wonder whether the gender stereotypes are really learnt or whether women just are smarter.

This account by HawkEye made me smile and my fingers itched to type back something acidic that only the female of our species would find funny. I desisted.

Like all urban woman, sustained on a balanced diet of chocolate, over-named cocktails and credit card bills, I’m an SATCist - a loyal fan of Sex and the City. Of course I was looking forward to the movie with bated breath. And yes, I did that cliched thing that most women did. Watched the movie on the day of its release, dressed to the nines and with a bunch of gal-pals. Every woman I know did it and several posted about it. Lalita Iyer at HT Cafe wrote about it in her column Chicklit.

I must have been sitting next to the only man in the theater. I could practically imagine him in a mental straitjacket, trying hard not to break down. One woman or two or perhaps even three he might have been used to. But a theater full of women must have become a mob in his eyes. We hooted. We jeered. We whistled and catcalled. We giggled. We gasped and pointed out shoes, handbags, clothes and jewellery. We ooh-ed and aah-ed and sighed. We whispered and then emboldened by the lack of frowny-shushes, our voices rose in pitch. I was almost sorry for him. Almost.

Well, don’t mistake me. I’m normally quite a kind person (yes, I am and who dares contest that??!!!) and I don’t like bullying. But some instincts are too much for even me to fight. I am part of that mob called the Old Girls’ Club. And when it out-numbers the rest, it’s all about loyalty to the tribe.

Is this is a natural occurance, only an imitation of the boy-gangs that have been around for years? The ones that tormented us in childhood by throwing away our dolls, then harangued us as teenagers by hanging around in packs and discussing our anatomy in gruesome detail? They hung together despite glaring differences with that one-minded dedication to the cause. Well okay, we picked it up a little later but here we are.

I don’t see this happening to the Princesses and the Barbie dolls I’ve been classmates (and *gulp* even friends) with along the years. The ones who’ve settled into the classic roles of little women are happy with their lives. It’s the rest of us, the Alpha Females, Modern Women, bitch-pack so to speak, riding the wave of liberation, basking in the alcohol/nicotine fumes and weilding economic and mental independence that join the club. Among our many memberships and subscriptions, we sign up for an Old Girls’ Club.

Friday night a galpal across the world buzzed me online to ask what my plans were. I replied,

Meeting four luverly ladeej. One is silent, sarcastic and so cool. Another is delightfully undiplomatic. Precious is a darling. And Raindrop is a real joy to be around. Being with my gal-bunch is soo much funner than being on a date!

She buzzed back a in agreement.

I have any number of girlfriends, a relatively recent occurance for me since I grew up being ‘one of the boys’. I ‘do coffee’ (you never ‘do coffee’ with a man unless he’s gay) with them. I go window-shopping with them. I dress the way I normally - outrageously - do but I actually let them give me an opinion of my clothes (Who cares what a man thinks?? Whatever do men know about clothes anyway?). I join them in a mass-crib-fest about the stupidity of men in general with long, involved discussions about the actual man (men) in each one’s case. As self-appointed and then unanimously-elected wildchild, I amuse them by haranguing some man by making eyes at him and watching him blush furiously. They boost my ego when it’s flagging. In return, I write XXFactor. (At one point of the time, this blog’s tagline was ‘For a woman…by a woman…because I’m a woman.’ Now you know where that came from.)

I guess we haven’t really gotten used to independence as much as we’d like to believe. We still define ourselves by our relationships with other people. Except that, instead of a man, it’s a bunch of other women.

I went out this weekend with friends in an age group ranging from 22 to 30. It was an evening well spent in the company of people who could be variously described as intelligent, witty, cute, silly and fun. And I was one of the only two women in the bunch.

Was I then ‘one of the boys’? No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to that. Relationships, romance, love, flirtation and sex just make you view the opposite sex in a way that never quite leaves you.

Was I then flirting and being flirted with? Well, not exactly. I believe that there’s an underlying current of sex lacing every male/female conversation, irrespective of age, geography or relationship. It is after all an awareness of how the other person is different from you, in a complementary or an opposing manner (depending on a lot of other factors). But the conversation flowed easily around the table and across it jumping from movies to technology to other topics of common interest. It’s been so long that I’ve done this that I didn’t realize just how much fun it could be.

On a date or in a relationship…anytime where the situation is charged heavily by sexual electricity, I think it’s difficult to really see all aspects of a person. The attraction and all the rituals that we perform to sustain it and build it, seems to leave very little room for other things. Even in groups of people, you can tell the atmosphere is nearly crackling sparks, if its members are expressing their sexuality overtly or otherwise. All kinds of by-plays happen that overlap and occasionally conflict with each other. Emotions ride high in all directions and it’s a potentially explosive situation. Not that I’m saying that it’s a bad thing. I’ve enjoyed being a part of these for long enough and there’s much to be said for the mating dance in terms of its sheer entertainment value.

However, a different situation stands out simply because it is so different. There’s no heavy flirtation happening, no competition for attention, no charades. That’s probably true of the first few encounters of any group of people - at work, at school and college and even in social settings. However those first meetings are alternately charged with an acute curiosity about each other as well as a need to fit in or ‘impress’ the others.

This weekend party was one that had neither which is probably why I found it relaxing even in a noisy, smoky environment. I thoroughly enjoyed being able to be myself, not having to impress anyone. And alternately it was good to not have to keep judging various contenders for my attention, juggling them and playing them against each. Does that surprise anyone? Yes, I do it just as much as the next woman..or man for that matter. The party was great for not having to do any of those things.

All I was, was myself. A blogger, a twenty-something professional, an amusing conversationalist, a woman in the company of men.

Another step in being comfortable with your own sexuality is realizing that you need not use it all the time.

And now that we know them by the cities they live in, the professions they pursue, the interests they devote their time to and the languages they speak, what’s left? The women they love of course! Here’s a look at what you can tell about a man by his favorite Bollywood pin-up.

Sushmita Sen: Isn’t it really obvious that is this a man who likes strong personality in his woman? I’m inclined to think that he’ll also be a shy sort, the still-waters-run-deep kind but also a tad laid back. He has no qualms in letting the woman run the show and what a good job she does of it, too!

Rani Mukherjee: She played a prostitute in a number of movies and yet she retains the image of a ‘good girl’. She was also the glam-ma’am who settled down to matrimony, motherhood and err..mortis. I’m hardly surprised that she’s one of India’s top actresses since she personifies the most common Indian male fantasy - the Barbie/Behenji. If the Munch girl is on his walls, you can be sure that Mr.Munchkin ain’t going to like your mini-skirts post marriage, even if he chases you only when you wear them!

Aishwarya Rai: I’m no fan of this green-eyed diva. But she sure is popular with the boys. This one appeals to the kind of man who wants a trophy partner, the kind that will be delighted to turn cartwheels for his marble princess but freezes when he realizes that she breathes, feels, talks and - horror of horrors - thinks too! Freeze in place and don’t even adjust your mascara till he’s out of the room, ladies. This man doesn’t believe that a real woman should perspire, shed hair or do anything that a marble statue wouldn’t.

Mallika Sherawat: Now I bet you won’t find too many men who admit to liking her. For that matter how many men actually admit to watching porn? You know I think the lady does have quite a nice face but well, who ever looks at her face? Watch for the dude whose eyes are permanently fixed a few inches beneath your chin. That’s not shyness, that’s a Sherawat fan. Quite likely he’s comparing you with her…down to the last millimeter. On the other hand, if he openly admits to liking her, he might be the ‘I do it differently’ sort. Fun boyfriend to have if you run with rebels. For all that though, a man’s basic instincts don’t change.

Kareena Kapoor: Now I don’t actually know a single man who professes an admiration for the Kapoor babe (except Saif and he doesn’t count since he doesn’t know me). And yet as reigning queen in Bollywood, she must have her share of hearts. I imagine she’s the kind that a lot of men fantasize about but won’t talk about it since they don’t think that she’ll ever ‘ghass-dalofy‘ them and what man would admit to that? The average Joe (or Janardhan, Jaani etc) who sniggers at the mention that he could have an eye on the firebrand is probably mixing some nervous laughter into that as well.

Bipasha Basu: This is one surprising one. A dusky woman who rules the roost in a country obsessed with fair skin. Raw sex appeal meets ubercool. But ooh, I’m nearly drooling. Hmm, what can I say about the man that likes her? They all do! If he doesn’t, assume he’s gay!

The one safety valve on a man who goes with too many women is the fact that there are a that many vindictive/resentful/unsure-about-feeling women to ally with.

I’m reminded of a conversation from Fables: The Mean Seasons between Cinderalla, Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty) and Snow White that goes,

We’re like an annual meeting of his parole board, getting together once a year, to confirm that he’s still an unrepentant fuck and continues to be deserving of our organized contempt!

..the man in question being their common Ex-, Prince Charming.

Now that we’re well out of adolescence and the dewy-eyed freshness of first romances and having accumulated a few rough experiences, we find others in the same boat. Not just women who’ve dated similar men, but women who’ve dated the same man!

And thus is born the League of Ex-girlfriends. Women who at one point are sworn enemies, bitter rivals or even uncomfortable acquaintances spot a chance to turn pals. Few women would let this go by, I kid you not.

So what does the League discuss? Like all groups of women - clothes, celebrities, family, friends, work, finances, children, books. Don’t whew in relief just yet….women prefer to be refined and subtle in such things. All of these topics can be discussed with practically any other woman, regardless of age, culture or relationship status. We talk about these to establish that comfort factor and to scope out the other woman closer up, to decide if she can be included in our respective Leagues or not.

And that done, we arrive at the prime reason for the League’s existance - the man (while I have the choicest of epithets at my disposal, I refrain in deference to my more modest fellow compartriots). So we’ll be polite and nice, ladies but talk about him, we definitely will!

Is a man then advised to ensure that he dates all kinds of different women so they don’t feel that comfortable with each other to gang up on him? HAHAHAHAHAAHA is all I can say to that. The more diverse the group, the more things we have to talk about him. Every detail will be scrutinised and dissected in great detail and if you think women don’t do locker-room talk, daaaahling, we do lunch with the other girls. Miaow!

There’s a hierarchy in this, which true to womenhood, lies beneath the surface and occasionally causes subtle conflicts. Thus the most recent one to join is given the floor, which makes sense considering the older members have probably already dissected all they know to bits. Besides they’re all waiting to see if their predictions about the man and his latest flame have turned out right. With that many women (didn’t you know we were all born with a Ph.D in male psychology?), they’re bound to have been right and the “Ha! Didn’t we say so?!” feeling is enough to overcome any prior animosity or personality differences. The new recruit looks about nervously at first or defiantly (depending upon her type) and feels encouraged to spill more of the beans as she sees the response her words are getting.

The one who stayed with the guy the longest is the undoubted queen bee of the group and most likely its creator as well. On the other hand this lady may as well not even belong to the group, believing that allying with the other ‘flings’ is beneath her.

The one that ended with ‘But we wish each other well and have decided to stay good friends!” sort is definitely not a part of the League. Oh wait, she’ll receive an invitation to the girls’ League too but it’ll only be to update the other members on the man’s life. The League works in unfathomable ways and have definitely heard of ‘getting insider info’.

What about men whose ex-es are not resentful, bitter, vindictive (in short women who aren’t women…okay, okay, forget I said that!)? Okay I can only surmise that such Leagues don’t exist in those cases. Since the women in question have presumably worked out all their emotions neatly, they feel no need to air them out, let alone join in a mass dirty-laundry-of-same-idiot airing. I also suspect these are the kind of women who lurrrrve hearing about other people’s dukh-dard-ki-kahaniyan but never let spill any of their own beans (”Oh but that’s too personal!”). Can you tell I don’t like such creatures? Actually I have nothing against them except a strong skepticism of their existence.

But never mind what I don’t believe in. What I do believe is that for every slighted, hurt, betrayed, victimised woman, there must be at least a few others in exactly the same boat. If not, wait a bit, the guy doesn’t change all that much and is bound to accumulate a few more broken hearts. And then it is time to call a meeting of the League of Ex-girlfriends.
Do women worry about their ex-es forming similar cliques, a la A League of Ex-Boyfriends? Not particularly, considering that men will happily bond over every stupid common thing from a workplace to a shared fascination for yellow, foul-smelling, barley-brewed alcohol….but can absolutely not bear the thought of another man having been the object of their paramour (current or former)’s affections. Besides where would they meet - the Hall of Shame?

…are like disco lights behind your eyelids
…..and your stomach doing the dancing.

Apparantly my sense of humour has managed to rub someone the wrong way.

I’m having a real spam attack on one of my idea-toon-posts titled More answers to stupid questions. Akismet doesn’t seem to be catching it and I am getting tired of having to login every hour or so and clear it away. Hence I’m locking that particular post away and hoping the problem will vanish. The post will be back shortly. In the meantime, any help/ advice on how to tackle this would be much appreciated.

Plizz to not take the title of that post too seriously!

There are men who look good with facial hair. Greek gods walk in our midst after all.

Then there are those who’re passably nice looking and on whom the facial fuzz can act like the proverbial Fairy Godmother (oh okay, magic potion a la Shrek) completely transforming their faces into something else altogether!

Of course every once in awhile we do come up against a case of the mustache making the man (and not vice versa). These are those speciMENs that are ordinary, even laughable clean-shaven (remember Lamhe?) but add some fuzz and voila - a star is born!

And then there are all those images one has, leftovers from too many childhood stories, of Chinese gentlemen in floor-sweeping rebonded-straight mustaches. Are those supposed to be shampooed?

Back in land of idlis and software, where I come from, a mouch is considered a sign of manliness so you’ll rarely spot a clean upper lip. Facial fungus rules! Oh ewww I shudder and tell my family…..

(Click on thumbnail to view comic)

Why am I so acerbic? I’ve lived all my life with a mustachioed man after all. But then again there’s no one quite like Dad. Besides I have nasty memories of horrid punishments that involved the moochie. When I was extra naughty, dad would grab me and rub his cheek on mine. Far more effective than spanking, it was like being sandpapered. So now when it comes to gentlemen professing l’amour for me, smooth faces get brownie points…I have no intention of thinking of childhood punishments and dad in the midst of such activity.

The mustache is so much more than a line (or jungle) of hair. It’s a style statement, an extremely sexual one at that! It’s probably the oldest icon of male vanity (not to mention the oldest excuse men use to gain our sympathies in the ‘how painful to scrape one’s face everyday’ school of thought).

The goatee or French beard (I can’t tell the difference - is there one?) straddles the machismo of the mustache as well as the dandiness of vanity - the perfect accessory for a Metrosexual Man (which is probably the only reason I resist it). Then again, faces can look quite appealing with the mini-mouch (muhahaha..) except for the ones with too much of baby-fat (but there’s very little to improve those, one supposes!)

So finally, how do you like your men? Mustachioed, in-between or not at all?

I went for a movie with my parents on the weekend. As we walked in through the glass door, the security guard punched our tickets, gave me a perfunctory look-over and then proceeded to pat my dad down.

Now I ask you: who’s more likely to be carrying a bomb/explosive device/weapon? A twenty-something carrying a HUUGE tote-bag or a fifty-plus empty-handed man? But they assume I can do no harm, on account of my gender. I walk into malls, department stores, movie theatres and offices unaccosted while my male companions endure being patted down and having a cold, metallic beeper passed over them.

A few years back, on a visit to a museum that was displaying the royal jewels of some Maharaja, I was relieved of my backpack since it contained a walkman (with batteries) and a camera. Fair enough, I said, if not a little huffily over having to carry my wallet in my hand. And then a line snaked up towards the security guards who meticulously prodded every entrant over. I threw a fit…and a tantrum.

But it’s a woman security guard who’ll check you! What’s the fuss?

My friends wondered.

It’s a violation of my being! Why should I allow it? If that Maharaja thinks I’ve got a camera or a bomb hidden inside my stomach, when I go to see his crown…hmph!

Needless to say everyone assumed I was just having a temper fit as usual and left me in peace. I can still have my tempers, fits, tantrums to express my outrage over a stranger wanting to poke and prod me. But, I wonder, do the men have the same right? I understand the need for security but there’s no denying that what passes for security in most places is nothing more than a mandatory job to be performed or overwhelming paranoia. In which case my question becomes - are women automatically more trustworthy just because they’re women?

Yes, I do check out other women! Do you wonder why?

(Click on thumbnail to enlarge)

(My other idea-toons)

A long while back, when love and such ideas were new to us and family was ‘those folks’, I had a discussion with a friend. He had decided that most women were cowards because they would not stand up to their families, not stand up for the men they wanted to be with.

For a fact, I’ve seen a good number of relationships end because of familial opposition - on the basis of religious, caste, linguistic and economic differences. It is truly sad for a relationship to end, not because of the couple’s differences but because of other people’s views.

However, I must also say that I have always had great regard for women who take their family’s desires into consideration while choosing a life partner. This isn’t quite the same as the Mama’s boy syndrome wherin they unquestioningly gulp down whatever is shoved down their proverbial throats. They make their own choices and these choices definitely factor in their family’s ideas too. I so much stand by that.

The fact is that few people will ever care as much as your own blood family, misunderstandings and irritants notwithstanding. That said, they are no more than human and have a right to their own foibles and prejudices. My greatest admiration in this regard is reserved for two women, one a neighbor and one a friend. Both women met the men they wanted to spend their lives with and had to contend with parental opposition - due to differences in religion and in caste respectively.

The families of both women (the fathers most particularly) ran the entire hullaballoo from tearful melodrama to icy coldness. Both women stood firm and held that they would not marry anyone else. And in addition, would not get married without their families’ complete blessings either. Persistance won out in both cases. The first couple has two children, both the darlings of their doting grandfather’s eyes. The second couple celebrates their second wedding anniversary this year, blissfully in love..and peacefully so too. All was certainly well that ended well in these two cases.

I guess not everyone is that lucky or even that tenacious. If it really came down to having to choose, I can’t imagine a man would be ‘right’ for me unless my family was aligned to my choice as well. Family is one’s own after all, and their well-intended perspective could be very useful in such an important choice. Does that necessarily mean that I am a coward, unable to go against them? Or does it make me any less independent - or feminist? You tell me.

While on a nostalgia trip about this bunch, here’s another nugget.

It was the happiest of times and the whackiest of times. My birthday at an age when there were still ‘landmark year’ birthdays. The rowdy bunch, quite uncharacteristically nice, decided to throw me a party and do everything themselves. So here I was at 11 in the morning, sitting around in a vacant flat that belonged to someone’s uncle with a disused fax machine for company. It was a ‘come as you are since the birthday girl won’t bother dressing up’ thing.

What are we waiting for?

I demanded and was told that,

X, Y and Z are bringing the birthday cake.

X, Y and Z being my best guy friend/lurrve, best girlfriend and her boyfriend. So we twiddled thumbs awhile longer and wondered WTF are they doing, hatching eggs for the cake?

They finally put up an appearance two hours later, laden down with parcels. Gifts I hoped and I was dismayed to see plastic bags and old newspapers instead. Till they proceeded to demonstrate.

First, X dipped his hand into the plastic mess and came out with…a big carrot

Great, I murmured…what’s this….diet cake?

Just something for those long, lonely nights!!!!

replied Y with an evil grin. I sat up.

The next thing to emerge from the bag was a big cucumber with those tiny light-green spore-y things on it.

For dotted pleasure…!

said Z with a flourish.

So it continued for a few minutes. The plastic bag was dipped into and each time a new vegetable came up for inspection with a lascivious comment following. The last thing to emerge was a vile looking karela (bitter gourd) and the presentation was concluded with…

For extra friction!

And if that wasn’t enough, my birthday cake was chocolate slathered all over with vanilla icing and the words,

Happy b-day gal…beware of the white stuff!

I went off veggies for awhile after that.

Much as I hate forwards, I really have to recycle this joke here. I don’t think there can be enough laughs to this one!

A professor of mathematics sent a fax to his wife:

Dear Wife:

You must realize that you are 54 years old and I have certain needs which you are no longer able to satisfy. I am otherwise happy with you as a wife and I sincerely hope you will not be hurt or offended to learn that by the time you receive this letter that I will be at the Grand Hotel with my 18 year old teaching assistant. I will be home before midnight.

When he arrived at the hotel, there a fax was waiting for him that read as follows:

Dear Husband,

You, too, are 54 years old and by the time you read this, I will be at the Breakwater Hotel with the 18 year old pool boy. Being the brilliant mathematician you are, you can easily appreciate the fact that 18 goes into 54 many more times than 54 goes into 18. Therefore, my love, do not wait up!

Brava, Mrs.Professor!

This post (quite unexpectedly) brought in several responses.

Shefaly is a feminist and not ashamed of it. She also identifies it so strongly with her identity that she believes that all women are feminists. And she asks,

Why is it that it is ok for groups to huddle together if they play basketball or run marathons or make films, but not if they are the same gender or same race or same age?

I’m delighted to find that men add the voice of reason on XXFactor. Here are Rambler, Ashish and Amey giving us their thoughts:

I do not think feminism is about male bashing.

Feminism is more of a ‘non-male’ part rather than ‘anti-male’.

I am pretty sure you are closer to being a sexist.

So much for answers! My single question seems to have sparked off a host of new questions!

Firstly it occurs to me that I’m just going wayyyy too anti-male here. I actually don’t dislike men that much in real life. In fact I don’t dislike them at all!! To echo Pragni, I’m thinking of my father, my teachers, my buddies, my favorite boss, my mentor…well, plenty of men anyway. Maybe I should drop some of the OTT humour and speak my real mind for a change. Hmm.

Secondly, I’m most intrigued by the aspect that Chandni brings up. There certainly is a definite “I’m so much better” attitude among the Modern Woman (a stereotype by the way based on this blog’s author..meh). I’ve poked enough of fun at my housewife-y friends, deriding their smug attitudes and portraying myself as a lone achiever. I’m still not on the same planet as beings who believe that they were born to serve and satisfy MANkind.

On the other hand, my best friend is a highly intelligent woman who just has other interests and who would at some point of time, like to quit the corporate world and spend the time starting a family and spending time with them. Another close friend has decided not to pursue what I imagine would have been a fulfiling career and instead pursues another equally challenging (if not more) job as full-time mommy. I’ve never thought of either of these women as inferior to me in any way. That stems from the fact that I know that in both cases, their lives are their own. Their desicions may be influenced by other people at times but they bear the full responsibility for these.

After all, the right to choose includes the right to say yes - or no!!

Can I then sum that to say that a feminist is a person who is aware of the power of choice? If a woman, she knows what is available to her and has the freedom to exercise it or not. If a man, he is appreciative and accepting of a woman as his equal counterpart.

The world is my bee-hive

Am I a feminist because…

….I write about the incessant stupidity of men?

….I crib about their committment-phobias, their thoughtlessness, their fragile egos and their hazaar nakhras?

….I claim (as I truly believe) that men are a luxury, a vice, an expensive hobby but not ever a dire necessity?

The dictionary defines feminism as:

1. the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men.
2. (sometimes initial capital letter) an organized movement for the attainment of such rights for women.
3. feminine character.

That’s not quite the same thing.