At Goa University, 72 percent of the students are women. This is a number which in a country like India brings to mind women’s liberation and independence. But at a closer look, the reverse is actually true.
Outside the computer room at Goa University there are nine pairs of sandals lined up. Inside the glass windows, Suhana Sheikh is throwing laminated candied fruits to her classmates, who have all parked themselves in front of separate computers to check Facebook. The nine sociology students have gathered to work on their project, where they examine why Goa has so many women in higher education.
“But where is everybody? We were supposed to begin half an hour ago”, says Alitho Siquera, who has just entered the classroom with determined and bare feet. He is the course coordinator, and the one who has inspired the students in their choice of project work.
“There are many theories on why there are so many female students. Some believe it’s because it’s considered feminine to study, others think women have gotten more independent. Here at the institution for humanities and social sciences, 93 percent of the students are women. That’s pretty extreme”, says Alitho Siquera.
He strokes his bald head and walks around the computer room.
“Well, if no one is here I guess I’ll sit down and send some emails”, says Alitho Siquera.
Sajani Gaunkar is unhappy with the reaction: “Sir, can’t we just get going?”
“Okay, okay. So tell me Sajani, why are there only two men in the class? Tell me your hypotheses.”
Goa, situated on the west coast of India, is the country’s smallest state. The state was Portuguese until 1961, and is mainly known in the western world as a popular destination for the quirky backpacking tourist. Compared to the rest of India, Goa is at the top concerning standards of living and literacy. Women are considered to be living with a freedom that their sisters in the rest of the country can only dream of. Women’s rights activist and lawyer Albertina Almeida is not particularly convinced, however:
“In Goa, we like to look down on the rest of India and accuse them of being primitive. But as a woman, it’s hard to break loose from the patriarchal structures because Goa is so small. Daughters are still considered a burden, and selective abortions are common.”
In the computer room the discussions have started. Whom shall they interview? Educated housewives? Students? Sameer Ahmad from Kashmir is one of two male students in the class. He does not agree that education is not making his female classmates more independent. Alitho Siquera looks reassuringly at Sameer Ahmad and asks him to elaborate.
“I mean… a man can’t dominate an educated woman in the same way he could with an uneducated one”, says Sameer Ahmad.
“What do you say to that, girls?”
“If I compare with my friends who aren’t studying, I definitely feel more independent. But I know that will change the day I get married. Then it’s the man’s rules”, says Neha Shridokar.
The girls in the class are more inclined towards the belief that independence is about whether or not you have a job.
“I often get the feeling that a poor woman who makes her own money is more independent than the well-educated housewife from the middle class”, says Sajani Gaunkar.
A majority of the girls in the computer room believe they will end up in the latter category. As well-educated housewives.
In Goa, roughly 15 percent of the workforce consists of women, so a life as an unpaid workforce in the home is still by far the most common scenario for women. But what is the point of studying if you’re just going to end up as a housewife?
“Education raises your status on the marriage market. You become more in demand. A well-educated housewife can help the family’s children with their homework”, says Sajani Gaunkar. This was also the reason Suhana Sheikh’s parents agreed to let their daughter carry on with her studies:
“I don’t have to get married for a few years and my parents will have an easier time finding me a good husband”, she says. “The fact that I have an education also increases my chances of getting a decent job, and in that case the family also benefits from it.”
At the time of India’s independence in 1947, less than 10 percent of the university students in the country were women. Today, that figure has reached 41 percent. But the regional differences are great. In the state of Bihar, only 30 percent of the students are women, compared to Goa’s 59 percent. According to Times of India, however, only 0,8 percent of all female students are at third cycle. Education is a class issue. Families with a tougher economic situation generally only make sure the son receives education. The daughter will not be able to generate any income for the family anyway, since she belongs to the husband’s family after the wedding.
But what about the guys? After all, that is why the nine sociology students started this project: wishing to understand why they have no male classmates.
“Okay, what do you have to say about it?” Alitho Siquera walks around the classroom, his breast pocket filled with whiteboard pens, and drops the question: “Where are the guys?”
Suhana Sheikh has once again begun smuggling candy to her friends, Sameer Ahmad is hiding his hand under the table to send a text message. Alitho Siquera has his back turned, and doesn’t notice how the level of concentration has dropped around him. Neha Shridokar comes to the rescue:
“They’re at sea! Guys want to make money quickly, so they get a job as soon as possible. At least that’s how I look at it.”
“There might be something to that. Some think it’s more manly to work than to study. But despite this, all course syllabuses are incredibly accommodated for guys”, says Alitho Siquera.
45 minutes after the appointed time, the lesson is over. While Alitho Siquera erases the notes on the mobile whiteboard, his students are discussing when to meet for a group work session. The future well-educated housewives. Why don’t they object?
“It’s different here in India. Life is not about me and my will. It’s about a bigger unit – the family. That is slowly changing, but it’s how it is right now. It’s simplest just to accept it”, says Suhana Sheikh.
Translation: Jakob Eyjólfsson
Text and photo: Annika Skogar
