Oppressed aunties and gossip culture

Written by The Chaotic Diaries of a Brown Girl

I’m a 24 year old South-Asian female. So I’m sure you can imagine that I have been hot topic to be gossiped about, and that too, for a while. To be honest, I’m not saying I’m all that (I am all that) but if it were not me, it would be another twenty-something year old woman. It’s never been just about me, although I have just been hyperaware of what is said. They could come across the most stereotypically perfect twenty year old and would still find something to say about her. This being just how innocent acts and kindness get twisted into a “hot topics” out of boredom. Baseless gossip - the kind I really find boring and do not like. 

Although, as the years go by, I can’t help but to understand where they come from. I am not justifying their behaviour but I understand it. 

The ones that have been caught in this artless cycle of gossip seem genuinely unhappy or unsatisfied somewhere, and I don’t even say this maliciously.

But aren’t the majority of people unsatisfied somewhere? It’s as if it is within Aunty culture to project this lacking in the form of hatred towards other women. I just hope this never becomes me. 

In instances, this harboured hatred or jealousy is what is projected into the constant bitching about others. In other instances, it may just the dissatisfaction of being stuck in a love-less marriage or one lacking in appreciation shown towards the female partner, which is later projected by the Aunty in the form of tasteless gossip. This is her form of release.

This makes me question whether I entirely comprehend their dissatisfaction towards life. Whether I even understand the intensity of it. My aim to understand always leads to heavily focusing my attention onto their husbands. I mean have you seen the way some of these women are treated by their spouses? It’s as if the older generation of South Asian men got married just to hate their wives - as if they were conscripted and on the other side of this matrimonial partnership, lies the enemy. Some of the various aims the husbands seek to achieve in this warfare: to limit the free will of the enemy, expect an abundance of free-labour at home without paying heed to how meticulously exhausting it is whilst barely showing an ounce of gratitude, entail that many women live through all kinds of abuse from verbal, physical, emotional and financial to name a few. All the more whilst the enemy are kept dependent on the need to keep their husband due to what society will say if they step away, due to financial dependency or due to the fear of raising children in separate homes. This way, a false sense of freedom is provided for the enemy under the idea of protection, whilst their male spouses rule over them in a life long dictatorship. Stepping outside this dictatorship can only unleash what can be recognised as havoc, so what is a woman to do? Throw her toys out of the pram, the way a frustrated baby with limited power would. Project hatred elsewhere as it would be unwise and turbulent if projected towards the real problem - the partner they are at war with. As much as the words of such women may rattle my mind at times, what truly is upsetting is to see where this harboured hatred really stems from.

I have so much more freedom - some that they have never been exposed to or some that does not suit their lifestyle so only know to respond to with hatred . Because it does not suit their lifestyle, it makes them uncomfortable, even though it is never enforced on them. And what do bounded individuals do when one acts out of the limits of their norm? They respond with negativity. They hate. Although, it’s quite simple that there are 8 billion people in this world and we simply cannot and will not think and act the same. 

But again, I understand. I had the privilege of being born in a more outspoken generation, one with far more rights and privileges. One very different to what they were brought up in. Of course they are going to struggle to understand our way of living - it is alien to them and a constant forbidden freedom that is dangled like a carrot on a stick for those pondering what life on the other side is like.

The humour of this internal warfare:

Ask a Brown boy about this nature and he’ll blink twice in confusion at the depth of its existence.