(This piece first appeared as part of a weekly column for The Sunday Morning)
As I pen this week’s column, movements in Sri Lanka’s political sphere are heating up and moving ahead. Rallies, meetings, and media frenzies are all the rage as we build up to the presidential election. In this time, it seems prudent to reflect on important periods past with power struggles that we as citizens engaged in, and one in particular springs strongly to mind.
In October 2018, Sri Lanka went through a trajectory that will prove to be a defining moment in our history. In what is now referred to as the “51 days” or the “constitutional coup”, we experienced a shift in power with the President appointing a new Prime Minister in a manner deemed illegal and unconstitutional. Confusion and dissent raged, and then the biggest blow to our democracy came as he proceeded to prorogue the convening of Parliament.
Rapidly, in that time, thousands of Sri Lankans came to the streets in protest, demanding that Parliament be convened. They came to the streets to show with their bodies and voices that they would not be silent, that they would demand the safeguarding of their democracy. That they, the people, had the power and they would show that power, reminding our leaders that they serve us.
Image Credit: The Sunday Morning
Protesting is not new
As a feminist and activist choosing to be there and protest alongside my fellow citizens, for me, it was not a question of should, but a question of must. It was not about who was the prime minister or president, but that the appointments must be done lawfully and according to the Constitution of the land.
It also reminded me that without the rule of law, it is those who are marginalised and oppressed that will suffer the most. In Sri Lanka, there is no doubt that women, people who identify as queer, and those of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities very much fall into that category.
For feminists, protesting is not new. Feminist protests have existed for as long as feminism has, and indeed, the very act of protesting and resisting is deeply feminist. Protesting, especially in the physical sense of bringing your body and voice to the street, has been especially important for women and queer people as our bodies are often the site where political decisions and ideology play out. From having how we dress policed and our sexual and reproductive rights denied, to whom we love and how we use our bodies to love – all these are controlled and policed. Thus, using these bodies to come to the streets to decide for ourselves where we will place them and how to physically move, stamp, and shout is an important act of resistance. It is about more than the crowds gathering – it is also about being seen and refusing to be ignored.
SlutWalk is perhaps one of the key examples of feminist protests that highlight how we implicate and use our bodies, which have been sites where violence against us has been perpetrated, to protest. SlutWalk is a movement of protest marches calling for an end to rape culture, including victim blaming and slut shaming of sexual assault victims; specifically, participants protest explaining or excusing rape by referring to any aspect of a woman’s appearance.
The word “slut” has been historically used to degrade women for sexual freedom and expression and SlutWalk looks to reclaim that word. Some responses have questioned the wisdom of using the word “slut”, but I disagree, remembering what Sophie Jones wrote regarding this criticism: “This is a clear case of these writers simply misinterpreting the mission of SlutWalk, which is not a protest for the right to be called ‘slut’ but a protest for the right to dress however you want, free of the presumption you are ‘asking for it’. I have been called a slut while wearing long sleeves and thick black tights...The assumption that rapists target women who look sexually available drastically misreads the nature of the crime. I will be marching in London not for the right to be called a slut, but for the right to be there.”
SlutWalk isn’t the only example. Feminist history alone is full of examples of this resistance – from the Suffragettes demanding the right to vote and Indian women asking for justice following horrific instances of rape to South African women orchestrating a day without women in the home, workplace, and country.
Globally, many of our rights and freedoms have not been given to us, we have taken them. We have resisted and protested, demanding we are given what we deserve, and it has worked. From law change and access to services to voting and the right to love and marry whom we choose – we have taken what is rightfully ours.
Do efforts pay off?
Perhaps, this is enough to answer the questions that are often asked of protests: Does it work? Is there a point to doing it? If not, more evidence does exist.
A recent analysis by economists from Harvard University and Stockholm University found that protests do in fact have a major influence on politics. Their research shows that protests do not work because big crowds send a signal to policymakers, but rather because protests get people politically activated.
The researchers argue that change is often not a result of the actual protest, but of the way it motivates attendees. If the protest itself makes the difference, they point out, the effect of a larger protest would dissipate over time as policymakers forget about it. What actually happens is the opposite: The difference in political outcomes actually increased over time.
There is no doubt that at times, it can get wearing and disheartening; we feel helpless, jaded, and useless. It is at times like this that we must remember: This is how those who want to take away and benefit from taking away our rights and freedom want us to feel. It is in their interest to have us silent, apathetic, and uncaring. A thief can only steal when no one is watching, and citizens who stay silent and uncaring are fertile ground for corruption and wrongdoings. While in a utopia our elected representatives will always act with our best interests at heart, in reality this is not always the case. It is our duty – the need for us to remind them that we hold the power and that we are not afraid to use it. Democracy is about more than just voting, it is also about standing up for what you believe in and fighting to ensure it is enshrined and protected.
We are still waiting to see if the demands we made in our protest will be upheld. Some were not. For others – perhaps they will, perhaps they won’t, and we will have to keep protesting. I don’t know for sure. I do know, however, that we will keep protesting, keep resisting, and keep rebelling. It is how we build a better world.
Comments