Tag: life

In a STEM-empowered women’s world, are the Arts dying?

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and the more I see articles and blogs online talking about the importance of girls and women taking on Science subjects and technical jobs, I fear for the ones who choose to go non-technical.

For far too long, the world has thrust the Arts on women because it’s easy. (Or so they think it is) A degree in any of the many Arts subjects is a safe choice for a girl — and a cheaper choice for her father — because a few years down the line, the girl would get married and settle to doing dishes anyway. It’s hard to believe that that was the reasoning in my mother’s generation. And, although it makes me sick, I can accept that even the narrow minds that make our society have a right to their own beliefs.

All of that said and done, things are changing faster than ever now. Well, the reason for this rapid change is perhaps the long-standing narrow-mindedness. Now anywhere I go, any web page I open, and any Twitter account I come across has a supportive declaration to women in technology. I’m happy that it’s so. As someone whose salary stems from the tech industry, I’m happy to see that people are becoming more broad in their minds.

But I’m also afraid.

I’m afraid for girls and women like me. Girls and women who preferred to major in an Arts subject because that is their true passion. When all the world (and his scientist wife) encourages more womenfolk to take up technical subjects, it seems that without a direct reference, the world is discouraging women from taking up Arts. Ironical, if you think about it. There was a time when people frowned upon women in science, a practice that’s now flipped: it’s the women in Arts who’re now frowned upon.

Women in Arts — women who chose the Arts because they wanted to — are now the weaklings in society. People look at a literature major and wonder if she’s too foolish to major in mathematics. Of course, I know literature and history demand as much as number-crunching and memory building as mathematics and physics. Regardless, our colleagues looking down on us, because we’re not as tech-savvy as they expect us to be, is a little worrying.

Some of this mentality flows from the ideology of empowering women. In recent years, so many influencers have presented TED talks and YouTube interviews about the great women in scientific and challenging industries that as a result, they’ve underplayed the Arts a little too much. I realise this isn’t often intentional, it’s a consequence nevertheless. While our society empowers (read: permits) women to take on male-dominant areas of work and study, it penalises those who don’t.

Perhaps penalise is too strong of a word to describe it. However, it is the reality that we, Arts majors, now face. In a mad rush to offer equal employment opportunities and social status for women, our society has concluded that the only way to do that is to subjugate women to Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics. I may be overthinking, but we as a community don’t understand women empowerment as well as we thought we did. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have fathers who believe that the best way to empower a potential-painter is to persuade her to finish her engineering degree, land a job in a corporate, and paint during her leisure — as a measure to de-stress.

All parties agreed

Having realised that the partnership no longer brought happiness to either, both parties had terminated their once-mutual agreement. All was said and done on paper already. They were aware of the consequences and the implications well before they had signed on. Neither was surprised.

The same couldn’t be said about Neha, however. She had no idea what she had gotten into. It wasn’t her choice from the start. No one had consulted her or informed her. Until one day, her mother announced at dinner, her separation from her husband of eight years. Their daughter, Neha, would remain with her mother.

One hell of a ride

Life’s been giving me a hard time for a while now, but this morning while on the way to an important appointment, life crossed my path and dropped a truckload of lemons right on my head.

Hang on to that thought while I digress before I regress.

When I tell someone I’d be available in a particular place at a specific time, I try my best to keep my word. And this appointment was far bigger than meeting a friend for coffee to discuss the latest fashion fallout. This was an examination, and one that required my entire concentration and my sound sense of time.

I left early. Three hours should be more than enough time to travel 45 km (28 miles). Why, I thought, I might even reach early. That’s always better than rushing in through the doors just as they’re closing. (Although what a dramatic entry that would make.) And so with my perfect plan laid out, I booked a cab and we started the ride.

The first phase was smooth — 45 minutes of near-vacant streets, with mild congestion that cleared up even before I knew it. I kept looking at the time, and was happy to see we were well within our goal. But as we transitioned into the second phase things became a little more crowded. The sun had risen to all its glory and people had begun to drag their feet from their homes and onto their motorcycles and cars. Rush hour or work hour—however you name it, everyone was on the street.

Our vehicle stopped moving right behind a long line of other vehicles. Although Google Maps assured us, “Despite usual traffic you’re still on the fastest route…” somehow, it felt like we were far from it. Of course, the ever-reliable voice of Google Maps was saying the same thing to the driver honking behind us, and to the many others all around us. Two hours later, we were still, still on the fastest route, except now it was “Despite heavier than usual traffic.”

It would’ve turned any rider’s head. And would’ve depressed any driver. Incredible though it seems, neither happened. My Uber driver maintained his composure, and because he didn’t start honking or teetering in his seat irritated, I hung in there as well. While my mind whirled, conceiving the worst case scenarios and wild cover up stories to explain my delay, the congestion on the road had no congestive effect whatsoever on my heart’s pumping. All seemed fine.

Phase three: Panic attack. When the traffic started moving again after what seemed like hours, but what had been only an hour, our mechanic guide opened her throat again. This time, she wasn’t event attempting to assure. She declared that I was going to be late. And she didn’t seem as upset or as concerned as an assistant should. I checked the time, and then my schedule. I had an hour’s grace period to show up before they’d declared me a no-show. I looked at the back of my driver’s head with an urge to urge him, but what would I say, and—even if I did—what could he do? I ate an apple, instead, to calm my nerves.

Phase four brought along a miracle. Just as the clouds cleared way for the sun, the roads cleared up for us. We didn’t pause to think or drop our jaws in wonder. My driver stamped on the accelerator and we shot forward. The cool voice of the guide came again, with good news at last: I would reach just on time.

When my driver pulled up at my destination, it was one minute past my reporting time. I had made it.

Inside, lemonade awaited me.