Single'd out by a society desperate to typecast

I was all of 21 years and there was a buzz in my home. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, the entire family was excited that I had finally consented to surrender to the ‘boy-see-girl’ ritual. I had entered my ‘marriageable’ phase, and before I knew it, I would be off he market if this didn’t work out, they said.

The ritual took place, boy and girl just about saw each other, families exchanged pleasantries, which was a code for “Its all good”. Once we were back home, I was looking for that private moment with my mother. I knew she would understand that I wasn’t going to go through with this. And she did.

But many among the family elders did not relent. The interrogation began. How long will you wait till you find the “perfect man”? You need companionship. How long will you stay single? Well, pretty much for the rest of my life, it now seems!
While my relatively progressive family did not take much time to adjust to this new order that I had ushered in, society at large was not ready for it. There was my first job interview with an advertising agency. “Are you married?”  that inevitable routine interview question.  

The response to my obvious reply surprised me “So you have flexible hours and can clock overtime I suppose.” No, I shot back. I have a family and a social life, I said. I didn’t get that job. Would they have hired me if I were married and couldn’t clock late hours? Would that have been ok? That was my first lesson on assumptions about single people. And I stood my ground for the rest of my twenties.

As I entered my thirties, most of my peers were married, some even with children. There would be parties, get-togethers, et al. And then came that awkward moment. A friend’s child’s birthday party. Should I be invited? Should I not? I was the sore thumb, the freak, who was unmarried, sans children and yet a friend. What now? When I sensed this dilemma I resolved the situation by saying that I was busy that evening and wouldn’t be able to attend anyway. Another learning about perceptions: that single people somehow don’t have the emotional quotient to engage with children!

Apparently, being in the thirties and single, and in a coveted job also meant being simultaneously “taboo” and “available”. Because, in your thirties, you have gone past the ‘marriageable age’. I had just landed a job with an international philanthropic organisation and had to move from Chennai to Delhi, and find my own accommodation.

The first port of call was the broker who would find me a suitable home. “So how many family members madam?” he asked as a matter of routine. “Just me, I am alone” I replied. His presumptuous follow-up was  “Your husband is not moving to Delhi with you?” .

What followed was another revelation about being single. The broker was scripting me for my ‘interviews’ with prospective landlords and at the core of it was a lie. I must never reveal that I am unmarried, because single people, especially women, do not get accommodation on rent, he said.

I refused to comply, and after several failed attempts to secure a place on lease, I turned to my employers, who offered to break protocol and extend their support and find me a home on official contract with the landlord.

That was a freak good-fortune, because no sooner had I settled into a rented home, two of my long-standing single, female friends came seeking refuge under my roof until they found some dingy rentals by some exceptionally ‘generous’ house owners, but of course, with house-rules that would put a high school hostel to shame.

My professional life during most of my thirties saw me at a positional advantage. I was at the giving end of an international funding organisation. But that did not stop the patriarchy from being presumptuous about my single-dom.

Some thought they would have to “curry favours” to secure a grant and others assumed that I ought to never refuse a party invitation. It was a complex process, making them understand, that my choices were not based  just being a woman and single, but were based on me being me, a person with the right to my own choices and actions. Professionally, my attitude-overload demolished assumptions early on. But the course of my career had that one regretful experience. A junior colleague had been sexually harassed within the organisation. She shared this with two of us subsequently and we tried to persuade her to lodge a complaint, obviously with our unconditional support, since that would have to be the first step to address this problem. But there was no institutional recourse for such matters at the time, and since the offender was a powerful figure in her own field of specialization she did not feel the confidence to take him to task. The matter died without being redressed and I still wonder how that experience must impact her even today. Even worse, I wonder what the ramifications have been, of not bringing that offender to account. But am I glad that organizational mechanisms have emerged since then and not just single people, but victims in general are gaining access to evolving support systems that address this menace.

In my personal space, perhaps my being out-of-the-box confounded many because I was neither ‘loose’ nor ‘traditional’ and there was no social sanction for being someone where society cannot typecast you, for just being who you are, especially when you are single.

This was exemplified by a woman journalist who called me for an interview because she was doing a feature on ‘Spinsters’. I am single, but not a spinster, I clarified. She seemed confused. I didn’t stop there. There are even some married spinsters out there that you might be able interview, I suggested! We went on to unpack the notions of ‘single’ and ‘spinster’. And to her credit, she took that as a lesson on stereo-typing.

Today I am a single, female, film director and free-thinker who believes that she is living the full range of life without subscribing to the conventional manual for womanhood. My ‘unmarried status’ continues to be a matter of intrigue but I have learned to be entertained by it! I ask myself: Was it just destiny that kept me single, or, deep down, am I someone whose constant companion could only be single-dom? As with everything, the truth perhaps lies somewhere in-between.
Being single was not some life project. But then neither was marriage! Life itself is not a project, but is to be lived, and single people lives like anyone else. Women — and men — are single because that’s where they allowed life to take them.

As Mandy Dale said  “Single is no longer a lack of options — but a choice. A choice to refuse to let your life be defined by your relationship status but to live every day happily and let your ever-after work itself out.”

(The writer is a film director with an abiding interest in music and culture)