Gestures make the Man

We learnt that men don’t kick into damage control mode when an elevator halts, and rarely do they initiate conversations at a party.

There were some exaggerated cliches about men, and frequent slipping into ‘being a woman’ goof ups.

To know a man, you must walk a mile in his shoes. And to really be a man, you must walk in his shirt, his pants and even his underwear. But for the 14 women (including this reporter) who signed up for the Man For A Day workshop organised by Goethe Institute, and conducted by the UK-based performance artiste Diane Torr, the challenge didn’t end there; they had to “un-become” the woman. It required shedding deep-rooted, socially constructed rules of appropriate behaviour, and even wear a phallic-shaped contraption for that ‘real’ experience. There were three simple rules: No smiling. No engaging. No accommodating.

Torr started her Man For a Day workshop in New York in 1990 and since then has tutored women in North America, Europe and Asia. In their early 20s to late 50s, the participants (the workshop was open to women only) at the Gati dance studio in Khirki Extension were there for many reasons, but curiosity was the driving force.

“Male privilege has no factual basis. Gender is a construct that has solidified in our minds. Tradition that has no relevance any more must be discarded,” says Torr. Casting our “selves” aside, glue-on stubbles and wigs in place, we as ‘men’ explored our characters. How does he walk, talk and sit? How does he behave in situations? Stuck in an elevator, would he rush to find solutions or sit out the crisis? There were some exaggerated cliches about men, and frequent slipping into ‘being a woman’ goof ups. But we learnt that men don’t kick into damage control mode when an elevator halts, and rarely do they initiate conversations at a party. But Torr admits, “I really have no idea how Indian men behave. I’m dependent on the women here for insights.”

My identity emerged as a concoction of men I’ve observed. I became Dev, donning a wig, a stubble and a cap to cover my eyes for a controlled gaze, a lesson I never mastered. Dev stepped outdoors on day two of the workshop for the ultimate test: public response. For the most part he pulled it off, celebrating the small victories when called ‘bauji’, ‘bhai’ or ‘sir’. At Malviya Nagar’s markets and Saket’s malls, no shopkeepers flocked to assist him, nobody turned to look at him (not even women!). Owning his territory was suddenly easier, and while he claimed space, he was automatically given some. In the end, we could remain in our male identity if we wished so that we “return home safely”. We laughed, but nobody took up the offer. Facial hair and all that emotional restrain wasn’t an attractive bargain.

(Dipavali Hazra is reporter is a student of EXIMS)

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