Beyond saying no: how to fight sexual harassment

So it’s been over a month and a half of silence. Online. A whole lot of words and work and wrath offline. Beyond the holidays and the happy happy, there were the days of listening to stories of women raging, of women exhausted of raging, the nights of waking up thinking about them. Of P who spoke to me only two days ago, from a tiny village a few hours from Bangalore, at the end of her taut and stretched tether, because her husband and his family, not content with abusing her for a mere 2 lakh rupees in dowry, had pushed her into sex work. She is now safe at home with her parents, and a case has been registered against her husband and his family. Of M, who had to suffer being married at 14, beaten and bruised by her husband for the next 14 years, and then finally had the courage to walk out of the marriage, taking her children with her. M is also a poet and a police woman. Hers is a story worth writing about, but not today.

Today’s post is for N. For being the right kind of strong. P, M and N – and all the other women whose stories I hear on an almost daily basis – made me ashamed of my awkwardness around writing about what I know and do most: working with the police (and women’s and children’s organisations) trying to make the system as responsive to violence against women and children as possible. In an earlier post, I spoke about this strange awkwardness, but enough is ’nuff. Diffidence is sometimes stupid, and sometimes it can be downright dangerous. ‘Changing the system’ is as much about changes within, as it is about making us – those without – responsive to, and informed by, these changes.

N’s story is not unusual: she worked in a multi-national corporate, well-known in its sphere. She became progressively more unhappy at work, considering that the General Manager (GM) – and therefore, but naturally, many of the staff – seemed to think that work satisfaction equated with an environment of ‘humour’, of sexual or racist jokes, not even generally directed, but specifically targeted against colleagues. Finally, when the jokes were directed against her, with the GM repeatedly offending and upsetting her, she had enough; she didn’t want to return to the office, she didn’t want to see her GM’s face ever again, she went home in a tumult of rage and disbelief at what was happening to her. What she did next is unusual: she protested.

There is no Indian law yet against sexual harassment in the workplace, though a draft bill has been released but not tabled in Parliament. But the Supreme Court guidelines in the Vishaka case (1997), are statutory and clearly bring both the state and the corporate sector, under the ambit of being responsible for protecting women at work. They are known as the Vishaka or Vishakha guidelines, after the women’s organisation that filed the Public Interest Litigation, pleading for justice to Bhanwari Devi – a Dalit woman, and a Rajasthan state government employee (‘Saathin’) working against child marriage – who was repeatedly raped in 1992 by five upper caste men in her village, in the presence of her husband, for defying their patriarchal norms. Bhanwari is yet to get justice, but the Vishaka guidelines can offer support to any working woman, whether a domestic maid or a finance manager.

The Vishaka guidelines state that “Sexual harassment includes such unwelcome sexually determined behaviour such as:

• physical contact
• a demand or request for sexual favours
• sexually coloured remarks
• showing pornography
• Any other unwelcome physical, verbal or non-verbal conduct of a sexual nature.”

In general, sexual harassment can be of two types: either ‘quid pro quo’ or ‘hostile work environment’: the former being about seeking sexual favours for work benefits and the latter, where the working environment itself is felt to be hostile, offensive and abusive. In general again, a single incident may be sufficient to establish ‘quid pro quo’, while a pattern of conduct is required to establish the ‘hostile work environment’.

As Neeta Raymond puts it, ask yourself these questions in order to identify or recognise harassment:

Do I consent to the behaviour? Does the behaviour make me uncomfortable? Does the behaviour violate my dignity as an individual? Does it violate my right to work in dignity in a safe working environment?

And then, if many of your answers are a ‘yes’, do not blame yourself, and do not keep quiet about the harassment in the hope that it will go away. It won’t.

So what can you do about it? You can complain, informally. But strongly. Speak up: be clear, direct, and assertive. Or write a polite but assertive letter asking the perpetrator to stop. If you feel that is not a possibility – or that it will lead to no change in behaviour – please complain formally. If your workplace does not have a grievance mechanism (by the Vishaka guidelines, all companies should have a Complaints Committee in place, but employers sometimes tend to set one up only once a complaint is received), complain in writing to a senior person (possibly the head of Human Relations, or the Admin Officer). Remember to keep notes on the various incidents of harassment that you will be complaining about: dates, times, venues, who else was present, what was said/done (as accurately as possible); all of this will be important when taking it forward. And use documentation, if available, to show how valuable you are within the organisation; any letters of commendation, emails of praise for your work…

The Complaints Committee – the Chair of which should be a woman, at least half its members, women and it should include an independent third party (an NGO or individual familiar with these issues) – should then meet and hear your testimony. In all this time, you shouldn’t have to meet the perpetrator(s) and your company/employer should be supporting you, through offering counselling and paid leave, for instance. It is helpful to have someone with you who can bear witness to this testimony (and perhaps take minutes for future reference). Once this is done, the findings of the Committee, with the proceedings, should be made available to you in writing. The employer themselves should then take action that you feel is appropriate, whether it is to take criminal action against the perpetrator of the abuse, to have him issue a public apology, and/or to transfer him (or you) out of that work environment.

If you are not satisfied with the Committee’s determination, then you can file a criminal or a civil case. Try and get a really supportive and sensitive lawyer (hopefully one who might take the case either pro bono – i.e. free for the public good – or subsides her fee to what you can afford). Depending on the circumstances, criminal action can be taken under three possible sections of the Indian Penal Code: 294 (obscene acts/songs/words), 354 (criminal assault on a woman intending to outrage her modesty) or 509 (word, gesture or act intending to outrage the modesty of a woman). While ‘outraging the modesty of a woman’ may not be a phrase you’re comfortable with, the threat and implications of criminal action can be powerful. Perpetrators have to learn that sexual harassment will not be tolerated, by either state or citizen.

An appeal can be made directly to the High Court, if the state (i.e. the government) is named as a co-respondent: for instance, if your employer has not been following the Vishaka guidelines, it is incumbent on the state (specifically, the State Women’s Commission) to make sure they do. And a civil suit can be filed for damages under tort laws: the basis for filing the case would be mental anguish, physical harassment, loss of income and employment caused by the sexual harassment.

Finally, through it all, get all the support you can: from family, from friends, from women’s organisations, from unknown supporters anywhere. Some of N’s strongest defenders came from people she only knew in a virtual world, and yet they – both men and women – cheered her on unstintingly through these past two months. And yes, her ordeal seems over; the GM is being transferred, an apology has been issued, and she can get on with her life. Stronger, but scarred: not quite the same as before, never again.