Women Leading the Struggle for Social Justice: Naveen Prasad Alex

[Naveen Prasad Alex’s short piece in Ala recounts the struggles of many women who rose above the social oppression that they suffered as members of the oppressed castes to lead struggles for social justice during the early twentieth century, often referred to as the ‘Malayali Renaissance’. In mainstream and feminist accounts of the social history of these times, greater visibility is often the privilege of women of the oppressor castes — especially those which renewed and refurbished their traditional sources of power and became part of the twentieth century Malayali new elites. This piece seeks to correct this bias, relying upon many important sources in Malayalam.]

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In Kerala’s present-day struggles for social justice, leaders like C.K. Janu and Seleena Prakkanam stand as powerful symbols of resistance, challenging systemic oppression and fighting for the rights of Dalit and Adivasi communities. Yet, their voices often remain sidelined. This ‘invisibilisation’ is not a recent phenomenon. Women have been at the forefront of many struggles for social justice during the Kerala Renaissance, but their contributions remain largely overshadowed in popular history. This essay shines a light on some such forgotten legacies, highlighting the leadership of women in the Kerala Renaissance while connecting their struggles to the ongoing fight for justice. By doing so, we challenge the narrow lens of history and honour the women who shaped Kerala’s social justice movements—past and present.

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 Translator’s Introduction: The Aloneness of K Kalyanikkutty Amma

[This is part of my translation of her autobiography titled The Wayfarer and the Wayside Lamps, forthcoming from Zubaan, Delhi]

1.

For around thirty years now, I have researched and written about ‘the first-generation Malayali feminists’ — the outspoken and daring women who received a modern education in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth century years and sought to clear their own unique paths in life. This was a generation which struggled to break free of the traditional order and seek out their unique place in the world on the one hand. On the other hand, they struggled against becoming mere adornments to bourgeois households, modernised caste-communities, or indeed, the newly- regional and national entities emergent in those times.

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Mariyumma Mayanali Maliyekkal: A Memory

[M M Mariyumma (1925-2022) is believed to be the earliest Muslim woman to secure an English education in Malabar, but her cousins the ‘Mayin sisters of Tellicherry’ — Amina Hashim, Ayesha Rauf and Haleema Abootty probably preceded her. This article relates her life.]

Today men and women enjoy equal status guaranteed by our Constitution. But there was a period when men dominated, especially in the field of education and occupation. Yet, there were people whose thought processes were ahead of their age. Such a family was Maliyekkal, a prominent Muslim family of Thalassery, Kannur. O.V Abdulla senior, a member of Maliyekkal was a well-known Islamic scholar and a commission agent in a tea estate. As a nationalist, ignoring the words of the religious heads, he made her daughter Mariyumma study at the Sacred Hearts English Medium Convent School.

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Excerpts from Ayesha Rauf: A Pioneer of Muslim Women’s Emancipation in Sri Lanka by Farzana Haniffa

[The following are a series of excerpts from the biography of Ayesha Rauf (Ayesha Mayin) (1917-1992) by Farzana Haniffa (Ayesha Rauf: A Pioneer of Muslim Women’s Emancipation in Sri Lanka, Social Scientists’ Association, Colombo, 2014) who migrated to Ceylon from Malabar through marriage in 1944. Her work in Muslim women’s education and her public life spans across Malabar and Ceylon. Haniffa remarks that despite her pioneering role, “Rauf is a personality who has been “hidden from history.” Fallen through the cracks even of Sri Lankan feminist historiography, Rauf hitherto merited a short footnote in the narratives on education, politics or the status of Sri Lankan Muslim women.” (2014: 1-2). If this is the case in SL, it is doubly true for Kerala. Ayisha Rauf’s life as narrated by Haniffa is such a marvellous illustration of what educated Malayali women were, and are, capable of, once freed from the shackles of narrow family and regional identification. It is worth noting that the same trajectory seemed completely unavailable to her peers in Kerala who had attained the same levels of education and work experience — neither her Muslim nor non-Muslim peers…

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The Serving Women of a North Malabar Brahmin Illam

[This excerpt is from a book written by Madhavan Purachery about the memories of his father and mother, members of the Malayala brahmin community who were witnesses to and participants in the tumultous social change in northern Malabar in the early 20th century, titled Ammayute Ormappustakam (Mother’s Book of Memories) (Mathrubhumi Books, Kozhikode, 2022). The recollections included in this book are also of little-known and little-discussed presences in the Malayala brahmin homes. Malayala Brahmins or the Nambudiris as they are known now, were the most powerful groups in early 20th century Kerala, occupying the apex of the caste order and owning large properties, but the plight of the women in these groups was extraordinarily bleak. Malayala brahmin were subject to very strict restrictions and were expected to remain unseen by anyone other than immediate relatives and any breach of this, punished by the harshest penalties. The undervaluing of women was rampant and any straying from strict submission could result in ejection from the caste community through a total severance of kin ties and social death.

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Red Post in a Hairdo: K Meenakshi and the Travancore Police

[This is a translation of the short piece ‘Mudikettinullile Chuvanna Kathukal’ in Alosyius D Fernades and D M Scaria, Orumbettavar: Porattangalile Sthreejeevitam (Alappuzha: Janajagrthi, 2011, pp. 23-27), on the communist labour leader of the 1940s from the Alappuzha district, a nerve centre of left mobilization of industrial workers in coir and cashew and agricultural workers, K Meenakshi. While hailed as a heroine of her times, she was more or less forgotten later, and came back to memory through the work of the feminist historian Meera Velayudhan. This piece simply uses her own first-person narration of her political life.]

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The Activities of the Cheramar Sthree Samajam: Excerpt from Vinil Paul

[This is an excerpt translated from Vinil Paul’s recent essay (Madhyamam Weekly, 26 July 2021 pp. 36-7) rather on the women’s organization of the dalit community organization, the Cheramar Maha Jana Sangham, based on reports published in its organ, the Cheramar Doothan, from the late 1920s.]

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Cabaret Dancing and the Malayali Feminists’ Moral Burden – K R Gouri Amma from the 1970s

[On 27 February 1974, K R Gouri Amma called for attention under Rule 16 in the Kerala State Legislative Assembly, drawing attention to the ‘menace’ of ‘naked dancing’ in Kerala. The translated version of her speech is below. It was perhaps one of the few matters on which the right and left, men and women who claimed to be decent, were all in public agreement – ‘naked dancing’ lowers the moral standards of a culture. This page from the records of the Kerala State Legislative Assembly does not give us any clue of who these ‘naked dancers’ were – they seem to have been a group of women with a male manager. They had actually secured permission from the local government authorities for their performances.

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More on Elite Women’s ‘Social Work’ and the History of Caste in Kerala

[This is a continuation from the post on the autobiography of Jooba Ramakrishna Pillai which gives us a glimpse into how educated neo-savarna women usurped all the opportunities for social intervention by or for women in the state. It gives us food for critical thought on why social conservatism came to be so deep-rooted in Kerala despite high levels of women’s education won through struggle. Interestingly, many leading first-generation feminists enjoyed the most amicable relations with educated neo-savarna women even when their own visions of empowerment were different — for example, the friendship between Anna Chandy and Mrs Ponnamma Thanu Pillai.

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‘Biographies of Marriage’ : G Arunima on the Autobiography of Rosy Thomas

[Below is an excerpt from the translator’s introduction by G Arunima to the autobiography of Rosy Thomas, known as a writer in her own right, but also in connection with two patriarchs of Malayalam literature — her father was the well-known literary critic M P Paul and husband, the redoubtable playwright, literary critic, public intellectual and all-round rebel, C J Thomas. In Malayalam, the work Ivan Ente Priya CJ (translated by G Arunima as He, My Beloved CJ (Women Unlimited, 2018)). I remember being dumbstruck by the original Malayalam title when I first heard it — its Biblical connotations were of course unmissable. The Gospel of Mathew – this is the disembodied voice of the divine that sounds from above after Jesus is baptised. A woman, pronouncing these words of her late husband, celebrating him thus? So what sort of relations of power does that imply?

Arunima’s translation and her introductory note brings out beautifully and carefully the nuances and complexities of an utterly modern conjugal partnership, in which the tensions of modern gender as it unfolded in those times are evident. Her reflections on Rosy Thomas’ deployment of the form of autobiography are actually relevant for women’s autobiography of those times, from B Kalyani Amma’s Vyazhavatta Smaranakal to Anna Chandy’ autobiography serialised here. Though it is beyond doubt that Rosy’s account — the way it acknowledges desire – is perhaps unique for the times.]

“…The impediments between Rosy and CJ Thomas were immense and seemed never to end. Her family was very unhappy about their relationship and did not actively support their marriage. This was in part induced by denominational differences (she was a Catholic, and he, a Jacobite), as much as their sense of loss of family honour and prestige. In 1940s Kerala, a publicly conducted love affair of this kind was as scandalous as it was uncommon. Her intricate narrative weaves in complex emotions, where respect turned slowly to love, and love blended with desire. That this love was as erotic as it was emotional does not appear to have created much conflict in her; indeed her candour in speaking of her unfulfilled fantasies and deep desire for CJ is as open as it is astonishing. For Rosy, especially, their love seems to have become, at once, a moment of defiance, and of self-definition. To marry the man she loved despite parental opposition strengthened Rosy’s faith in herself; he, on the contrary, complied with all her family’s demands so that they could overcome all objections and get married. One such was that he convert to Catholicism. In CJ’s case, this was particularly harsh, as it was well-known that he had distanced himself from the Church because of his political beliefs. The description of the conversion ritual, though narrated with great humour, reveals in harrowing detail the humiliation they had to suffer in the cause of love. It also revealed the stranglehold of tradition that communities, in the name of family honour, religious beliefs and kinship norms, keep alive. The “recanting” demanded of CJ Thomas hinted on the public disavowal of his political, religious, and literary views. Yet for marriage to be acceptable, family and community sanction were a must, even if they entailed self-erasure and a loss of personhood, especially of the kind that was demanded of CJ Thomas.

In many ways, Ivan Ente Priya CJ is a love story, but one that resolutely refuses to either romanticise or sentimentalise love. In fact in her brief Preface to the book, Rosy Thomas says that she could write this book only nine years after her husband’s death, as she did not want her text to be needlessly “sentimental”. One way in which she succeeds in doing this is through the use of humour and irony, which act not only as devices that permit a distancing from the subject under discussion, but also keep the tenderness light and playful. Throughout the book Rosy Thomas moves back and forth between their early days, and their subsequent life together. As CJ was involved in a variety of different literary and cultural ventures (theatre, illustrations, writing, even some cinema) they moved to different parts of Kerala, and for short stints to Madras. Their home was the hub of cultural and political life and we are given glimpses of the range of people and ideas that made up the everyday life of families that emerged in the wake of the Left and Progressive Writers’ Movements in Kerala. Though she was deeply supportive and appreciative of CJ’s writing and creative life, she was also distraught at his inability to hold down a job, resulting in constant dislocation, and at their financial difficulties, thanks to a family that grew quite rapidly. This ‘unsentimental love story’ , therefore, is also a record of their many quarrels, big and small. What is evident is that even though CJ was quite opinionated and headstrong, she was no wilting wallflower, was often assertive and forthright. At other times, in order to avoid needless conflict, she could be circumspect and judicious. Her story, that interlaces intimacy with domestic discord, the public political with quotidian domesticity, is in fact a complex social biography of a marriage, and of a particular time. Marriages like theirs were a product of changes in ideas and attitudes about love, life, and families. Yet these were not the result of either the activities, or the ideology of the Communist Party, or of the other ongoing progressive movements of that period. In fact the Party never really articulated a radical critique of marriage and family, and would often try and interfere in people’s private lives.

Additionally, this biography is as much about CJ Thomas and their marriage, as it is about Rosy as a writer. The act of remembrance is also about fashioning her own self and subjectivity, both as a ‘loving subject’, and as a writer and raconteur, observing, weighing, annotating, their life as a text…”

(G Arunima , ‘Introduction: On Translating Ivan Ente Priya CJ‘, from her translation of the same, He, My Beloved CJ, Women’s Unlimited, New Delhi, 2018, pp. 7-10)

[G Arunima is a pioneering historian of women and gender in Kerala. She works at the Jawaharlal Nehru University and is currently with the Kerala Council for Historical Research.]