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Sexual Justice

Previously, Uttarakhand had passed a law requiring people in a marriage-like relationship to register the beginning and end of the partnership.

Illustration/Uday Mohite

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One of the many parts of the Bharatiya Nyay Samhita (BNS), the new penal code, that raises concerns is Section 69. Put simply, it provides that sexual intercourse through deception, such as a false promise of marriage, is punishable by up to ten years in prison. The immediate reaction is concern that jilted women will use Section 69 to persecute men for revenge.

In reality, however, when it comes to sexual or relationship issues, such laws are most often misused by parents, communities and authorities to exert social control. Take the example of POCSO, a law designed to protect children from sexual abuse. Many POCSO cases are filed by parents who oppose consensual relationships of teenagers that have even caught the eye of judges – some of them are queer, some are interfaith or intercaste, and some are simply unacceptable because the idea of ​​young people’s sexuality is so heavily stigmatized in our culture.

Similarly, the idea of ​​”love jihad” presents (Hindu) women as agency-less children misled by (Muslim) men. The approach aims to protect women from this deception, but essentially serves to police interfaith relations.

Earlier, Uttarakhand had passed a law requiring people in a live-in relationship to register the start and end of the relationship, ostensibly to protect women following several gruesome murders that happened to take place in connection with live-in relationships.

These laws are supposedly meant to protect women, but they aim to control women and indeed all young people in the name of their families, communities and castes, and often criminalise young men, especially those from vulnerable backgrounds. But the story surrounding such laws is always about how vindictive women use them unfairly to harm ‘innocent’ men, usually from more privileged backgrounds.

That we pass laws to protect women from sexual betrayal but ignore emotional betrayal suggests a basic sense that women possess a “virtue” that must be protected. Their sexual selves exist only to serve the idea of ​​marriage and reproduction. Anything else is wrong and surrounded by fear, anxiety, and therefore often secrecy. When this is the basis on which many relationships take place, trusting consent is difficult and the likelihood of betrayal and injustice is higher. The question is, when a society fails to reckon with the granular reality of relationships and desire, can laws bring justice to this reality?

As a society, we do not recognise the freedom of action of individuals – and especially young people – when it comes to their private lives. Parents expect to have a say in every aspect of their children’s lives and decisions, constraining them to social roles and identities. They do not accept a right to privacy. Relationships in families may claim to be characterised by love and care, but are often also characterised by emotional blackmail, critical observation and outright violence. With such attitudes permeating social and systemic spaces, how can we develop a true recognition and understanding of consent and agreement?

Even our public discussion of sexuality simply reduces sex life to a binary category of violence or liberation. The complexity of intimate life is so poorly acknowledged that the complex choices, desires and journeys of individuals in the world of sex and love remain hidden. What then is the possibility of a proper, adult discussion of the ethics of relationships? And without these conversations, can laws hope to ensure sexual justice?

Paromita Vohra is an award-winning filmmaker, writer and curator based in Mumbai who produces both fiction and non-fiction. You can reach her at [email protected]