OVER the past few months within the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been reported that there has been an increase in domestic violence. Experts posit that the loss of livelihoods; the strain of being on ‘lockdown’, and the limited access to sufficient safety nets contribute to this. It is becoming increasingly apparent to me that providing spaces for dialogue helps to build solidarity, which may allow us to play a greater role in community-building and providing support.

Recently, I attended a Jahajee Sisters’ summit, which was an international platform for the empowerment of Indo-Caribbean women. And it was during the few sessions I was able to attend (because strong WiFi is not apparently a real thing), that I realised that there are certain ‘norms’ and stereotypes within the Indo community which are, perhaps, antithetical to the elimination of domestic violence.

During the opening forum of the summit, Trinidadian gender affairs activ Renelle White related that while there is an increasing feminist consciousness among Caribbean women (not just Indo-Caribbean women), within the Indo-community, there were still deeply entrenched expectations for women to be submissive, docile and remain married to one partner.

The other participants at this forum also discussed the “shame” that acting in contravention of these norms brings to an Indo-Caribbean woman. There is even shame in speaking up and speaking out; the Indo-Caribbean culture is seemingly premised on ‘airing dirty laundry’ within the family. Speaking only for myself, as a young Indo-Guyanese, these are all norms I grew up hearing and seeing within my family and social spaces. And I believe that this “shame” prevents many women from seeking help when they are abused.

But it was interesting to also learn that this shame is not isolated to Indo-Guyanese women. During the summit, I told a few of my friends about what the women discussed, and during my rants, my friends told me that the shame that comes with speaking up and speaking out actually existed — and existed quite prominently — within the Afro-Guyanese community, as well. This struck me because I am increasingly learning about all the ways we isolate and our experiences from each other, but maybe, we face more similar experiences than we know.

A 2019 study conducted by a few international agencies, including the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP), contended that a reason for the increased violence among Indo-Guyanese populations relates to gender stereotypes about ethnic communities.

“Indo-Guyanese men are thought to be more controlling of their partners than Afro-Guyanese and indigenous men. In addition, Indo-Guyanese women are thought to be subservient, and Afro-Guyanese women to be more outspoken,” the study said.

However, a snippet from an interview with a male police officer highlighted that violence is now being recorded across ethnic groups, and no longer just largely recorded within the “East Indian” community.

Though newspaper reports of domestic violence seem to indicate that there are more Indo-Guyanese women affected, I have not found any quantitative data illustrating that domestic violence (and intimate-partner violence, more specifically) is more prevalent among Indo-Guyanese women. The 2019 study related that though violence occurs along ethnic lines, it may manifest in different ways. The unequal power relations between members of the household, structural determinants, and other intermediary factors such as intergenerational violence and alcohol and drug misuse are also perceived to increase the risk of experiencing or perpetrating violence.

The conversation on domestic violence seems to be more widespread currently, because of the observance of the ‘16 days against gender-based violence,’ but more importantly, because of the women who are increasingly at risk because of the ramifications of this pandemic. I think about how much more could be done to support vulnerable groups– women and children, in particular. And I think about how understanding the nuanced perceptions of domestic violence could help inform better (and more comprehensive) strategies to combat this issue.

I think about how spaces like the Jahajee Sisters’ summit provide avenues for dialogue — to just speak about those things which we have been experiencing and to find community and solidarity. I think about how dialogue could lead to more dialogue, which could make connections not noticeable before and widen our communities even more. And through it all, we could recognise what destructive norms and perceptions are and realise how we could support each other to rid ourselves of this scourge of violence and adequately support our vulnerable people.

If you would like to discuss this column or any of my previous writings, please feel free to contact me via email: vish14ragobeer@gmail.com