Fighting Stereotypes: Why The Supreme Court Handbook Is A Step Forward

When I turned eighteen, a leading rock band asked me to sing with them in a hip new nightclub that had opened in Kolkata. It was the opportunity of a lifetime – music was my passion and I’d secretly nurtured a dream of becoming a singer.

So I broached the topic with my mother, confident that she’d say yes. She’d always batted for me, accompanied me to music rehearsals after school, ferried me to college festivals and back. She would know how much this meant to me.

But the look on her face, when I told her, wasn’t one I’d expected to see. She wasn’t happy. Instead, her face had turned sad.



“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she explained. “Our relatives will not take kindly to this sort of thing. Girls from our sort of families do not sing at nightclubs. I will never hear the end of it. I’m really sorry but you will have to turn them down.”

Naturally, I threw a tantrum and demanded to know what sort of family it was that wouldn’t allow me to pursue my dreams. But her mind was made up. She wouldn’t budge.

In retrospect, I realise how precarious her situation was. She was widowed, bringing up three children on her own and each day was a battle. Every action of hers was scrutinised by critical in-laws. She had to tread the line very carefully. It would certainly not help if her youngest became a “nightclub singer.”



Those were the days before MTV and talent shows on TV. There was no YouTube or Instagram reels where one could showcase one’s talent. If you sang at a nightclub, people made all sorts of assumptions about your character. A “respectable” career meant becoming a teacher or an engineer.  A woman belting out Whitney Houston covers -- not so much.

Looking back now, it was probably my earliest brush with a gender stereotype. Women could do this and not that. I would encounter many more in my long career, a substantial part of which was spent in and out of newsrooms dominated by men.

I would work night shifts, return home at the crack of dawn and neighbours would have a field day. “What sort of work does your daughter do?” “She comes home so late – where on earth does she work?” were questions my poor mother was asked regularly. Obviously, no one believed I was a journalist.

At work, “You’re too pretty to be in a newsroom” or “Don’t argue with me, that’s not ladylike”  were casual comments thrown my way. Women were expected to behave in a certain way, look a certain way and dress a certain way. And if you didn’t, there would be whispers and sniggers in the hallway. A coffee with a colleague meant you were sleeping with them. If you tucked your shirt inside your denim, you were being provocative. Oh and don’t even get me started on the “affairs”. The worst part was not the remarks - but gradually getting used to them. Developing a thick skin, to the point where they stopped making a difference.

That is precisely why the Supreme Court handbook is a praise-worthy initiative.

I don’t want my daughter or young women like her to be told what they can or cannot do.

I want a better world for the younger generation, free of harmful stereotypes, sexual innuendo-laden and generally demeaning phrases.

Slut, loose, whore – a progressive society has no room for terms such as these. People need to be penalized if they use them. I’m happy the Supreme Court took this step. It might have taken them time but as far as I’m concerned, it is something to be celebrated.

As for me, perhaps I could still become that nightclub singer after all.

Views expressed by the author are their own

Suggested Reading: SC Releases Handbook to Combat Gender Stereotypes: Details Here