An Open Letter to the Makers of #NestleEverydayMilkAdvertisement

From B&W to Colour, the representation of women.

Could it be that the owners of Nestle are all women and this is the reason why they have so many women actresses in their advertisements? Oh but it was founded in 1905, a year when women writers like Virginia Woolf and Kathrine Mansfield were busy fighting aggressively, with their pen and their paper. 

Fighting against a certain section of the society which thought women have a smaller brain and are meant to make breakfast and lunch and dinner and clean the house and host parties and bear children and stitch and take long walks. 

Or could it be that Nestle has pledged to employ more and more women because they have realised that Virginia Woolf was after all right and that  'a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction', where 'writing fiction' could mean doing whatever she desires to do. 

In my view, none of the above is remotely possible because if they would have read absolutely anything about the fate of women in a patriarchal society, their conscience wouldn't have allowed them to shoot an advertisement where there are two women, discussing what makes their tea, better and admirable to the only man in the advertisement.

Ridiculous is one small word to explain the advertisement.

Nestle, my dushman, you're reaching thousands of people, and the message you choose to give out to the women in the society is that however progressively they're dressed, all they'll do is make tea and try to impress the male in the family? Who is taking all these ad making decisions anyway? Insecure mainstream men of the 17th century?

And the newspaper! Women don't read newspaper? I read three, in one day. Just saying.

I do realise that it's not solely the social responsibility of the advertisers to make sure that they don't strengthen the stereotype, but in their quest of being able to 'relate' to the people I am afraid they are doing just the opposite. My mother doesn't make tea and so, she doesn't relate herself with the advertisement, I make tea but I don't expect myself to make tea for somebody everyday like it's my duty and so, instead of relating to the advertisement, I find it irritating. It's plain wrong.

Madhuri Dixit, one Indian talented actresses of all times, known for her dancing skills, known for taking up bold roles is doing what in a Nestle advertisement? Dancing and making food for the entire family, adults or children no bar.

My dad makes delicious food, he cooks for us. Take that, Nestle.

It's not just Nestle, there are other brands involved in this showing-off that -we are all in for the women's movement and we're doing our part in trying to change the society - take LG.



Sundrop advertisement, the woman's serving the food, and the man is the happiest alive.

As if the Nestle ad was not irritating enough, they thought oh-let's-show-the-women-what-they-are-supposed-to-do-and-let's-reinforce-it-by-showing-back-to-back-pseudo-progressive-advertisements.

LG washing machine advertisement where a bunch of women, wearing dresses and heels and makeup and whatnot are dancing their way to the clouds is your treat if you're an 18th century regressive husband.

But if you're not. I empathize with you.

Take CornAgraFood's Sundrop oil. Advertisements showing women in the kitchen, in the market, buying oil, making food, feeding their husbands, their children, their in-laws and whonot. It's unbelievable that the women in the advertising industry let it pass, or could it be that we have the same fate in the advertising industry as the Dalits in the news industry.

Who knows.

Where on one hand we have advertisements which are in true sense, the warriors in this battle of representation of women in the advertisement industry, say Mahindra scooty advertisement, Scooty pep advertisement or Lloyd washing machine advertisement, on the other hand we have advertisements showing women in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the toilet, in the market, shopping for eatables, all because men are too busy reading the newspapers and running the country.



Here is an advertisement, doing all things right.

However superficial it may seem but if women decide to boycott products which shows them as domestic beings, ya'll are going down, fellas. I'm going to quote my aunt here and say something to you on behalf of all the women who spend their time not washing, serving, cooking or cleaning but, reading, writing, coding, making softwares, hardwares, making laws, making policies, advocating, and doing other things you guys don't show in the advertisements. These are the words of wisdom my aunt gave me the other day, I need them but you need them more, so...

'...mend your ways.'

Standing Up

Blue - almost sets the tone for this week and the previous one. Blue is the colour of my toe after a part of the 50kg glass table fell on it and blue was my nail paint then, so the doctor thought I was overreacting and blue is exactly what I felt like, when I realised that it wasn't just the nail that was hurting, it was also my abdomen and my back. Thanks, clear enough PMS signs.

The toe's much better and the life, easier. Raksha Bandhan was round the corner so I thought it's the best occasion to say my thanks to that one guy, whose name I have no clue of, and whose face I don't much remember for two reason, First - It was way too dark. Second - I didn't take a good look at him. All I remember is that he was lean, dark and one hell of a person.

This goes back to the end of February, when we were busy working for our college magazine. Time then, was just another dimension and not something we had to keep a track of. I had boarded a bus at 8 in the evening. The bus wasn't crowded much so when a man who could have sat anywhere, even in the luxurious front seat with extra leg space, chose to sit next to me and make my heart overwork, change my eyes' size from M to XXXL, transform my palms into sweat pumps and make my face look like that of a grumpy cat, I freaked out.

I was paranoid. Fault of our times, my bad, but this lean-dark-one-hell-of-a-person confronted the guy and asked him to sit somewhere else. Small deed, but the peace I had on my face at that moment would have beaten the peace at a monk's face.

 He could read the signs, he was able to figure out how terrified I was, and he gathered the guts to stand up when my voice had betrayed me. I couldn't have asked the man to get up and leave the seat for no reason, but he could. I was still arguing with the voice in my head which was asking me to chill the fuck up while my face was battling hard to look normal.

The guy got down somewhere before my stop and I never got the chance to thank him but - you go man, kudos to you. Not to suggest that I always always need protection and someone else to speak up for me but sometimes, it's a relief.

Yes, a perfect, faith in humanity restored incident. Just realised.

Faith in humanity, restored.

Happy Rakhi.

Looked Back in Anger.

The number of times I have avoided writing here is directly proportional to the eve teasing incidents I have been subjected to, in the past month. Remember, I said these things can affect efficiency, that's precisely what's been happening. Precisely.

http://www.thegoldenletter.blogspot.in/2014/10/for-how-long.html

Here are the links, which will lead you to the respective pages and prove my point. Pilot woman and IAS women who studied so hard and became something, became the actual policy makers have to put their energy into filing FIRs and fighting for their rights instead of putting their energy into making policies for uplifting the poor, employing the unemployed, saving the earth and being an inspiration for the rest.

http://www.wsj.com/articles/in-afghanistan-death-threats-shatter-dream-of-first-female-pilot-1438738716

http://indianexpress.com/article/trending/idiots-are-lined-up-at-every-step-woman-ias-officer-on-the-harassment-she-faced/

http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/telangana/ts-woman-ias-officer-asked-to-file-complaint-against-magazine/article7374535.ece

I like to be a rainbow and spread positive vibes, but today's not your day, mate.

From staring like they could kill, to singing songs in the street and to stalking me till my effing house and having the nuts to ask for my phone number to creepy-boss-encounter, I literally went through hell this summer.

But unlike bad ol' days, I took control. It's not as if I have not taken control in the past but in the past, I waited for something miserable to happen to take action so this time, I snapped.

When I think of - a group of men assured of the fact that they could just look at a girl, sing creepy songs on the street, make whatever remarks they want to make and go on living their lives without any regrets, it disgusts me and I confess, it scares me to death and so, when it happened with me on the busy streets of Satya Niketan, mind you, a street just opposite to a very respected Delhi University college, I was scared and just like any other sensible person, ignorant of the beasts. Oh wait, I have read The Beauty and the Beast, and Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, calling those men beasts and monsters wouldn't be fair, might be like an insult to the poor beasts, correction - ignorant of the cheap-A-holes-ill-mannered-mentally-inferior-individuals.

My plan was to continue ignoring, but I am 21 and my family has invested some real money in educating me and my teachers, their time. I thought I mean, if I am not going to raise my voice against this, the future generation will curse me like I curse the ghosts of corset-wearing-sickly-looking-petite-Melanie Hamilton-type-women.

And so, within two seconds, I turned back and I was subjected to another remark, I thought - never mind sir, taken; given your earlier remarks on my body, no different than those of all the other women you know, say, the one who pushed you out of her womb some years ago, I understand you're not a rational human being. But then, instead of apologizing, they decided to argue with me, needless to say, an unreasonable argument 'twas.

I stood there, arguing, raising alarm, trying to hide the fact that I am shaking, exploiting my voice-box and get this - not a hint of shame in their eyes. Also, for a cafe so crowded it was Bizarre-ness personified when I figured no one is stepping forward, not that I needed them but dude, a group of six versus a 5 feet myself! You must have a really shallow sense of self to not raise your voice in a situation like this. Hope you guys at the cafe slept well that night, not.

I shook my head and went away because A) My phone's battery was dead, thanks Apple. B) I had realised that no-one else is calling the police. C) I had realised that for other people, those men had not committed any crime.

As I walked away, I was shaking inside, their smiling faces, their audacity had left me striped of my dignity and my strong self. Was this for real, I was thinking, was I paying the price for being a woman, of having breasts and a vagina? I have to fight to be able to walk on the street? No one decides, where I walk, how I walk, I don't even believe in having different countries, I don't even believe in the man made boundaries, if I had to cross the effing national border, I would. This world's not a man made thing, this world's mine and yours, of men and women and I shall walk, hop, jump, run and dance on it at my will! I am just walking down the street and you're passing comments, crazy or what?

I give tuition to some students and the other day my student who's in 2nd class complained to me about this another nursery girl at the tuition who was staring at her. She said it made her uncomfortable. A girl staring at another girl, both below 18 and the one being stared at, was uncomfortable! Imagine what it must be like for a grown up girl who knows who is staring at her and why, and it was then when I decided that I am making a real bad, scary face when someone stares at me the next time because I wouldn't want my students to feel uncomfortable walking on the street when they're my age.

The social media is flooded with theories which say that men will be men, they will get distracted, they will stare and they will turn their faces at the site of women, but what are you suggesting? That human beings have no control over their senses? Bizarre.

For the first time then, I felt helpless, like a kitten stuck on a branch, except I wouldn't want to call myself a kitten, I'd like to call myself a cub may be, at the least. Not that cats can't be strong and fierce but, I'd like to believe that if I can take all the society's BS for so long, I must have the strength of a lion.

I turned back, borrowed a phone and called a PCR. One hour later when they reached, I wrote my complaint, inquired about the cafe's CCTV cameras and questioned directly the man who was working there ; amazing liar I tell you and sure a gossip guy. Why I say a liar and a gossip guy you ask? Well, because when my friend went there the next time with a hidden voice recorder and asked about the incident, he re-told the entire story he had denied being a part of, in an extremely detailed manner, almost like the way I'd talk about my favourite novel, the story of a 5 feet myself arguing with a group of 6 feet tall guys. I reached home by 10 in the evening, got from my mom all the scoldings in the world for not being patient ; skipped dinner because I wanted to assert the fact that I was angry with her and slept with the fear that they'd hunt me down, torment me somehow and kill my life-long dream to become something, to make a difference in someone's life, to be an inspiration.

That set the theme for the rest of my summer but I thought, if my grandmother could raise six children all by herself, have a job and travel the world in the times when most women weren't even educated enough to write their name and know their age, I could totally pull this off.

One can't be a Melanie Hamilton in this century, in my opinion. One sure can learn patience and goodness and whatnot from her and these characteristics might help us when we're stuck in the traffic and our knees are on fire but to fight such lowly-misbehaved-superficial-shallow beings, taking inspiration from Scarlett O'Hara and fighting against all the odds seems like the best option and it might just prevent our future generation from cursing our ghosts, otherwise, the-submissive-insult-taking-weak-oblivious-women we would be called.

And that's that. The time, I looked back in anger.