The False Cure-All

I was a graduate student from India at the Simon Fraser University. Single, and in my late 20s, I went home after six years.

It was a source of tremendous excitement. As I sat on the plane, the images of all my family members, numerous cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and neighbours began to surface.

My images stopped at the vision of five little girls, about six years old who lived in my neighborhood. I was so fond of them! I was their big sister whom they waved at every time I walked by their play area and occasionally they followed me home when I returned. We talked, we shared stories, and we laughed.

I wondered what they all would be like now. I knew I had lots of stories to tell them about my life abroad; what it was like to study in a big university, how students addressed their professors by their first names, how they ate their massive sandwiches during the classes right in front of their professors, how I had to study long hours which made my landlady worry that I might go insane, how women drove huge trucks, how the grocery stores had an entire aisle of animal food.

Yes, I would tell them all about the joys of studying abroad. A wave of delight spread through my idealist mind. The plane landed in Mumbai and I reached home.

Few days later, the “little girls,” now 12 years old knocked on our door. After inquiring how they were doing, what grades they were in, what their teachers were like etc, I started to talk about my life as a student abroad. The girls kept giggling, nudging each other. I could not understand what was going on.

Then it happened. There was an interruption. One of the girls who I always thought had great leadership potential spoke up.

“Aunty, are you a spinster?” Lots of giggles. More giggles.

My mouth fell open. No words would escape though. My head started to buzz. Am I hearing this right? That was long time ago and I do not recall how the meeting had ended. All I remember is that I could not sleep well that night.

These girls were barely 12 years old and their entire focus of life had zoomed onto one domain — being married. Now, marriage is not a bad thing. In fact, in general, people who are married live longer, are healthier and happier compared to single people. Also, at least 50 per cent of the marriages seem to move along smoothly, assuring a stable family life.

However, what made the little-girls-in-India scenario salient in my mind is the recent events of young South Asian women in the Lower Mainland losing their lives as a result of their marriages going terribly wrong. Although such cases are a very small minority compared to the thousands of South Asian families who live a fairly normal and healthy life, the loss of even one woman’s life is one too many.

I reflect upon the prime value placed on marriage in our society in general and our community in particular. It is a pervasive belief that marriage is a recipe for life-long happiness. It is a be-all, and cure-all for all the maladies of life. Although young daughters are raised with lots of love, a strong message is drilled into their minds throughout their growing years that marriage is the ultimate goal of life.

Young girls repeatedly hear that if a young man has had a brush with the law, there is a remedy: Get him married to a “nice girl” and he will be all right.

If a young man is involved in dangerous gang behaviour, there is a remedy; if a young man has problem keeping a steady employment, if a young man has been fooling around with “white girls,” there is a remedy: Get him married to a “nice girl” and he will be all right.

The steady dose of Bollywood movies affirms this. As long as she is totally devoted to the man she marries, regardless of his “problems,” she will remain in that happy land of love ruled by her prince charming. However, if the prince charming’s problems do not go away, she has to just stay patient and worse, stay silent until the elusive destination of happily-ever-after arrives.

If the prince charming does not become “all right” and in fact if he gets worse, i.e., abusive, there is the level two cure: “Have a child.” If having one child does not work, increase the dose; have another child, and another.

Of course the problem does not necessarily go away.

Scholars who examine the dynamics of abusive patterns in families have pointed out that among many factors involved in abusive relationships, an individual’s self-esteem is critical. How we value our worth as a person is crucial in providing us with a sense of adequacy, competence, confidence and the ability to cope with adverse situations in life.

I see many young and bright South Asian women in my classes. I always remember one who was in the second year of her degree program. Very bright, very motivated, she excelled in all her courses. However, just two weeks before the term was to end, she disappeared. I sent repeated e-mails to inquire where she might be. A month later she wrote to me that her family had found her a really “good match” and she was married and now living in the U.K. Although not all South Asian women in my classes leave school halfway through, this is typical of many of them.

Why are we not ensuring that our daughters learn to stand on their own feet before being married? Why are we pulling them out of schools and colleges? Why are we not allowing them to explore their talents and hobbies? Why are we not celebrating their school accomplishments without adding, “now, we only have to find you a good match”?

Dr. Gira Bhatt is a psychology instructor at Kwantlen University College.