Not a day goes by when you open the newspaper, there’s the headline screaming about discrimination and violence against females. It is a global phenomena.
Gender inequality and gender discrimination are well entrenched in the social fabric of societies. It manifests in all areas of life. Birth, upbringing, education, family and parenting, employment, sexuality, religion, arts and culture, sport and attire have all been areas of discrimination against women.
It is pervasive around the world, but it is more so in developing countries. The prejudice is all the more when it comes to educating girls. They are denied, deprived and receive different and unequal opportunities to pursue an education.
Education will help girls acquire knowledge, gain skill and enable them to meet their basic needs of daily life. In addition, it will make them think, question and judge independently. It will give them autonomy.
They suffer abuse, violence and exploitation. Society ill-treats them and commits acts of moral, social, religious, cultural, political and economic injustice. One such girl is Asha.
I first met Asha during the summer of 2012 when I visited my aunt in Mumbai. She was a bright, 10-year-old, intelligent girl who used to accompany her mother who worked as a domestic help. Asha helped out with cleaning and doing odd jobs around the house. She was inquisitive and talkative. She would often strike up a conversation with me. I learned that she lived with her mother in a nearby slum along with her elder sister.
Her father, an auto rickshaw driver, wanted a male heir and when Asha was born, he started abusing and harassing her mother physically and mentally. Her mother left the house and walked away with her two daughters. She settled down with another person who worked as a daily wage earner.
Soon it transpired that the stepfather was planning to sell off the elder daughter into prostitution to pay off his gambling debt and liquor addiction. Her mother ran away once again. They finally found shelter in the slum. The illiterate family did odd jobs in the rich neighborhood to survive.
Though Asha did not know how to read and write she was most fascinated with books. She often looked at pictures, listened to stories and tried to grasp as much as her intelligence would allow. I asked her if she knew how to count. She replied in the negative and so began our odd friendship. Odd because we barely even understood each other. Our respective languages foreign to one another. We communicated in a language best described as hybrid.
It was an accomplishment for both of us when she learnt to count one to 10 in the next couple of days. I then taught her how to write her name and also higher numbers. She was thrilled at her achievement. She wanted to take me home. Much to the discomfort of the elders in my family, I was grudgingly allowed to visit her place.
It was one unending stretch of narrow, badly paved, dirty lanes with shacks and open sewers on either side which led to her home — a 10 by 10 foot place where Asha stayed with her mother and sister. This was a slum where thousands stayed in. It was made of mud, brick, tin and plastic sheets. Their homes lacked sanitation and basic services. Girls barely in their teens, with babies tucked into their sides, completed household chores. Street children and slum children, barefoot, played outside on the street. It was a sight I would not be able to forget for a long time.
Asha’s mother informed me about life in slum and the challenges she and her daughters faced. She shared with me stories about female infanticide, child marriage, dowry, domestic battering, sexual exploitation and other related atrocities. She expressed “Being born a woman is a curse” and after a brief pause added “A constant struggle and fight against everything and everyone around you.”
Unmindful of what her mother was telling me and what was going on, Asha dropped a bombshell by announcing her desire to study. She further declared that she wanted to become a doctor and treat her sister who was lying on the floor nearby. There was a deafening silence in the room.
After a brief lull her mother exploded and gave all possible reasons why she could not. Asha was persistent and adamant. With a little support and a lot of convincing from me, her mother consented. Maybe, she saw a glimmer of hope for her daughter. It was agreed that Asha would enroll in a school nearby which was run by an NGO that taught street and slum children.
Thus began Asha’s educational journey and my own journey advocating education for girls. Her story galvanized me to look at the underprivileged girl child, their plight and the atrocities they are subjected to. It ignited my passion for educating the girl child. To become their voice. Asha’s story is not an isolated case, there are millions of Asha’s all over the world.
Education is the first big step in addressing, correcting and dealing with the challenges faced by the underprivileged girl child — it is the only lasting solution. Educating the girl-child would not only help curb social evils and reduce poverty, but will also promote gender equality. It will change the face of society. It will make the world a better place and ensure a better future, not just for girls, but for all.
Sanskriti Bimal is a student at Mineola High School and writes “School Buzz” for the Mineola American. She also serves as a Long Island Volunteer Center Youth Ambassador.
