The Colour Purple

Ever since my school days (sans the imprisonment phase of three years in a convent girl’s college, when my parents were punishing me for screwing up my 12th standard boards), I have always been in a male-dominated environment with my share of male friends, pseudo/real boyfriend(s). My school strictly believed that eventually men rule the world, and hence we had one girl to every three boys. The girls didn’t complain since it meant extra attention, but since I was fat, I could never fully exploit the potential of the lopsided ratio.

My B school, though significantly healthier than most other so-called ‘nerdy’ institutes, still had a 1:3 distribution and now that I work in an I-Bank, I am once again relegated to a male-dominated bastion. Being the only girl in a bay of ten guys, I am often privy to crude jokes and loud discussions. So like any other helpless girl secluded in an I-Bank, I did what was the only option left to me: I attended a “Diversity Focus Group” conducted by two foreign strangers who don’t know you and definitely don’t care about you.

Remember all those banalities men complain about women: that we are nagging, that we blabber, that we gossip, that we “discuss our feelings in threadbare details”, well, unfortunately it’s all true! Especially when you are surrounded by aggressive loud people 12 hours a day, and you are suddenly urged to speak out against everything that is wrong with MANkind, all your hidden emotions get exposed. So while you start off politely, dignity and self-respect in place, by the end of it, you are ranting about your unresolved anger, ready to throw things at a stranger from Singapore, who is only here for sightseeing.

You start innocuously enough discussing the weather, praising the company for its inclusive culture, transparent policies and work-life balance…

Gradually you go on to blame THEM for your own shortcomings, i.e. lack of programming skills, lack of intelligence, lack of vocal chords and lack of upper body strength and suggest that they should hire more B.A. graduates, who are also short, dumb and not open to criticism, so that you could start some sort of a Sisterhood of Dumb Blondes …

Now you are warmed up, and since no man has ever given you so much ear-time, you take full advantage of the situation to launch into an extensive verbal abuse against your father, the school bully, the ex boyfriends, the current boyfriends and the prospective boyfriends, the sabziwala who cheated you, the autowala who refused to drive you, the left-brained male colleagues and of course, the boss…

You realize that time is not on your side and you remember all those “brilliant” points that you never got a chance to air in your 13 screwed-up GDs five years back, you are determined to make amends. So you hurriedly “bring some structure” to the discussion by talking about futuristic issues which you MIGHT face in the unlikely event that you decide to stick around in the company like “internal mobility to Cayman Islands’, “work from Coorg” and “maternity leave” despite no kids (hey, I am a woman, maternity leave is my birthright)…

Finally, you gather your belongings, and walk out, your head held high, imagining yourself to be Vidya Balan, convinced that you are now better equipped to deal with men, but your glory is short-lived as you get knocked down by a huge guy who apologizes, “Oh, sorry I didn’t see you” and you mumble, still on your fours, “It’s ok”.

Diversity is empowering, but there is no unity about it…