Snacking on the letter ‘P’ – Pregnancy

Pregnancy

About three or four years ago, I was the students’ union President in college. It was January 26th, Republic day in India. We had arranged the usual event marking nationalistic obscenity of flag hoisting and NCC parades – ‘token patriotism’. The Chief Guest for that day was a prominent gynecologist from the city. I had a special relationship with her. She was the one who pulled me out of my mother’s oozing sac and said – “tall baby”. Warmed by her zestful words to all of us, I had rekindled my (pseudo) yearning to connect with her again through my body. So when she was about to leave, as part of the thank you and good bye, I told her – “I’ll need you again. This time, to help me give birth to babies, very soon!”

I will never forget what I uttered that day. Much to my embarrassment, the thought of it sends a shiver down my body and there arises the need for me to pen my thoughts on pregnancy today. Again, much to my disbelief, many of my friends are pregnant or are mothers already. Moreover, I’ve been studying problems in representation of pregnancy and politics of reproduction in films as part of a course this term. (High alert: Pregnancy everywhere!).

The doctor, she laughed at me and asked me to be patient. I was resistant and placed a halo around myself. There was a time in my life, when I wished to get married, pregnant, and bear ‘three’ children. I embraced ideas of motherhood, virginity and the concept of purity that were attached to them.

What is my take on woman’s role in reproduction, then? What has become of my ‘learned (borrowed) attitudes’ now? Patriarchy is not just a characteristic of man’s society. It is the system by itself. Reactionary and interactive resistances to the system appear and thrive in many forms, completing the cycle of action and reaction – axiom of survival. I believe that a ‘true’ escape from the shackles of hegemonic masculinity (of men and women) is by far, an illusion. The status of possessing a bodily contraption – the uterus, makes us the vehicle for the proliferation of the human race. Deeply engraved in the evolutionary process, the female body is instrumental in sustaining the trap and assisting in procreation. The female body is the sexual cynosure even when deified in motherhood. It is the epicenter for violence, desire and expression. Opposing elements converge here. Pregnancy maybe the sign of a ‘fertile’ race, however, it stands for dependence, subjugation and gendered role appropriation.  If they did not tell you, that motherhood was beautiful; your innocent narcissism would fade to reveal disgust and disorientation. Pregnancy is also not a ‘horror’ as popular male discourse claims it to be. Male-centered thinking boxes a woman’s relation to her pregnant body as either maternal goodness or terrorizing alienation from the body. My reluctance in accepting the reproductive role assigned to me, was first instinctual, later informed by related literature. Nevertheless, to be a woman and choosing not to be a mother does not make me divinely rebellious nor does it make me a sexy feminist. I respect my body and I will not let it be used. Besides, babies are not cute when they grow up and you realize you’ve brought lives into a chaotic world unnecessarily, mistakenly in many cases which are later rationalized into the ‘happy family’ template.

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