Sultanas of swing

Four young singers speak out on what it means to be a female musician in India today.

September 20, 2014 03:48 pm | Updated 04:11 pm IST

Tipriti Bangar. Photo: Elvin Lonan

Tipriti Bangar. Photo: Elvin Lonan

Every performer’s career involves a thronging crowd, multiple ways in which one can be exposed and mediated to the world and, thereby, a public image he/she has to live up to. Which leads to a question: What does it mean to be a female performer in Indian cities? I decided to talk to a few well-known musicians — Meg D’souza (of The Underknowns), Tipriti K. Bangar (Soulmate), Samara C. (Ska Vengers and Delhi Sultanate) and Vasundhara (The blues duo Adil and Vasundhara) — on issues of safety, mobility and the idea of the sexy tease. 

We start with a discussion of stage fright. Vasundhara began performing as a kid but does not remember feeling nervous then. “It was only when I became a teen that the nerves started to kick in. With generations of conditioning, both men and women have developed a predisposition to objectify a performer to some degree or the other. When we are little, we are simple, clear and fearless.” The reasons for a woman performer’s nervousness, she says, are different from that of men. Performance anxiety is one thing; the other is an immediate imposition of her sexuality through the gaze of the audience. 

Samara, a graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts, has been a performer all her life — as an actor and now as a musician. Of her first performance with the Ska Vengers, she says, “I hadn’t been on stage for almost eight years and it was the first time that I was performing as a singer. This was in December 2009. Being on stage as an actor is different. In theatre, you have to connect with your audience, but you don’t break the fourth wall by directly acknowledging it. You can hide behind dialogue and almost make yourself believe that the audience isn’t there. In music performances, you’re expected to address the crowd and interact with your audience directly. This made me a little nervous at first. I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to say or how people would receive what I said.”

Tipriti dismisses any question about stage fright. “I can’t really remember my first gig, but I know I’ve never ever suffered from any stage fright. I’ve always been doing what I love and I’ve enjoyed every bit of it. I travel with the band; they have been taking care of me all along and in return, every once in a while I use my ‘womanly charm’ to get certain things done for the band… all in good fun.”

Meg’s concerns had more to do with the other bands playing that night. “I was petrified because the other bands had been around for a while. I knew they would be in the audience and, being their fan, I was scared of what they would think. It was unnerving to be in a position where people would form a certain opinion about something you’re doing in public.”

Leading off from this was the question: what happens when women performers are forced to sexualise their act? This creates a dichotomy: on the one hand, the women are blamed for inappropriate dressing/gestures etc; on the other, if the act is not well received it is the woman performer’s stage presence that is blamed. For some musicians, however, the whole sexy stage act offers an opportunity to subvert the power dynamic. But how far can one go given the current state of violence against women?

“Forget being a performer, just being a woman often means that your appearance plays a disproportionate part in how much people value what you do or who you are,” says Samara. “Perhaps this is more pronounced when it comes to performance because you are putting on an act. You are there to entertain people. And there is a whole industry out there where women are primarily judged by their looks. This is universal and does not apply to guys.”

“I’ve never felt that I have to be sexy on stage,” says Meg. “At the end of the day, it’s about being entertaining and connecting with the audience. I think being yourself helps connect with people rather than trying too hard and gyrating around in skimpy clothes. I get stressed out about lyrics and singing in tune. Of course there may have been times when I’ve thought ‘May be this is the right time to move this way to keep their attention’.” She doesn’t see anything wrong “with a girl or guy using whatever aesthetic qualities they possess naturally to their advantage” as long as it doesn’t seem fake. 

At this point, Samara raises an important question: At what point are you embracing your sexuality and at what point are you just catering to a gaze and defining yourself through your appearance? Her own answer is that her costume is a “show of strength”, whether it is the military jump suit (for the Delhi Sultanate) or the shorts (for The Ska Vengers). “My body language is not one of seduction. It’s more of a ‘don't mess with me’. I enjoy dressing a certain way for stage shows. Perhaps there is a role-play aspect to it, like wearing a mask.” But then she says this is also an industry where women are encouraged to focus on their bodies. “I have said no to magazines that want to have cover shots of me in bikinis. There is a lot of pressure to sexualise your public persona. I’m glad I’m in a position where I can say no. I also think that we have a responsibility to be an example for young girls who watch our acts. You have to find your own terms and stick by them.”

For Vasundhara, the stage amplifies all her natural qualities. It is “a space of hyper-reality, of hyper-emotionality and of spontaneity. From the part of me that overreacts and cries at the end of a song... to the part that gets angry and roars out a line… to the one that manifests my reality as a sexual being. Why not? The context to the song guides behaviour. We need to know why we get on stage. Those who pose or fake or over-sexualise intentionally are on stage for their own reasons. My product is music and I believe I get invited to sing.”

Forget about the stage, says Samara, as she points out that sexual violence has become a major issue and that most women do not feel it is safe to be out alone after dark. “I’m quite careful and I avoid situations where I might be vulnerable. I don’t like that we’re living in a time and place where the threat of violence is something we have to consider constantly.”   

Vasundhara agrees. Though sexual harassment is rare at gigs, out in public is another story. “Eve teasing is the beginning of sexual violence. I generally do not go anywhere unaccompanied. I drive more and walk less. Depending on the environment and the degree of aggression/instigation, one has to decide whether to respond or not; how to do that: lash out, attack with a pin... I also respond by talking to all the kids I know about respect, space and consent. The predators we see on the road clearly lacked that input while growing up.”

What about her response as a performer? “The nice part about playing songs that you write on your own is that you get to speak about the things you stand for. It humanises an objectified individual and soon unhealthy behaviours seem to reduce.”

Meg doesn’t recall being harassed while she is on stage. “Once or twice for being ‘chinky’ but that’s another issue altogether.” But, what about in public? “I just ignore it and carry on,” she says. “It’s not worth my time or patience to deal with crap like that. In a perfect world I would love to talk back and abuse them, beat them up and draw some blood, but I’m not stupid. I know that if it came down to that I would end up, at best, getting a few bruises.”

In this context, how do they deal with touring and travelling? Meg doesn’t think travelling alone is an issue, except at night. “It’s good to have company not only for safety but also because it’s nice to know that the person/people you’re with have got your back. There have been times when I’m scared, almost paralysed by what happens to women in this city. I hate that feeling but I think it is the smarter thing to do.”

The metropolises are bustling with empowered and free women. Or, at least, we like to think so. Will we curb our artists for being who they are? Or just shut up and enjoy the show.

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