‘The interface between care politics and corruption’ by Renu Addlakha

A most shocking event has taken place in the Indian state of Bihar involving the state run midday school meal programme resulting in the death of 23 children who had consumed insecticide laced rice and curry (http://news.in.msn.com/national/government-to-probe-mid-day-meal-scheme-after-23-children-die), The Midday Meal Scheme is the world’s largest school feeding programme involving 120 million children in India. The programme is run on a public-private partnership with NGOs and local contractors and the scheme involves giving hot nutritious freshly cooked food to children. It is envisaged as a means of reducing malnutrition and increasing school retention of children coming from poor households, particularly in rural areas.

In the present case the food had been cooked on the school premises and preliminary investigations suggest unintentional poisoning. The oil in which the food was cooked had been put in an empty pesticide container and the two substances had got mixed. This oil had then been used for cooking the meal. The food was prepared in the house of one of the teachers whose husband was grocer. So conspiracy theories are also rife.

From a care perspective, this case raises several issue to my mind.Firstly, how can such carelessness take place and what does it tell us about the attitude of those managing the programme? What does this tell us about the contemporary state as it moves from a paradigm of social welfare to neo-liberalism wherein it sub-contracts core care functions to private stakeholders? What is the value being placed on the lives of young children in such a context? How is that the rage which such an event should have generated has turned more into a storm in a teacup? What does this event tell us about the interface between care politics and corruption?

I would love hear how others view this event from a care perspective.

Renu Addlakha
Professor
Centre for Women’s Development Studies
New Delhi, India.

Why we should care about the menopause

A couple of months ago I was telling a younger woman about some of the problems I was experiencing with the menopause. She appeared to be listening with what has to be called grudging tolerance, at best, until I came to the bit about hot flushes. I was only mentioning them in passing, while explaining about some new medication that was helping. But when I said ‘hot flushes’ she sniggered. Yes, sniggered is the only word for it. She sniggered as if there was something really absurd and ridiculous about hot flushes. She sniggered in a conspiratorial way as if I should snigger too. I did not. For me, there is no sniggering about hot flushes.

I have discovered that there is still silence, stigma, and  taboo, about the menopause that is both widespread and, most worryingly, prevalent among women, even right-on feminists. If you broach the subject, women ten years younger – fellow lesbians, or bi or straight –  hastily do the maths to work out how long before it is their turn, and then, with anxious relief (or concern), tell you. Women two decades younger look uncomfortable, as if you’ve just broken wind. Older women seem reluctant to discuss the menopause, once over, either declaring breezily ‘Oh I sailed through mine’ (never has such a less empathic thing been said between two women, in my view) or, with a slight shudder, ‘it will pass’ as if half-remembering horrors now consigned to memory. Then there are the women who point out that in Japan there is no word for menopause, or the marvels of HRT (not mentioning its risks and that it is contra-indicated for some women, including me), or who helpfully suggest some homeopathic remedy a friend of a friend said was ‘simply marvellous.’ There is always the sense that there is something I could, and should, be doing to fix my menopausal symptoms.

There is no public space for menopause, apart from  books and magazine articles usually exhorting, ‘successful ageing’- style, women to enjoy our menopause (preferably ‘naturally’). ‘Enjoy’ is another way of saying ‘cope with it discretely and don’t complain about it’ and is a view not shared by all. Other than that it is privatised, hidden away. There is no place – apart from jokes, or self-help websites or conspiratorial chats between fellow menopausal women – for the impact of the menopause, particularly chronic sleep deprivation and effects on concentration and memory, to be recognised. Not at work, not in education, not in the provision of goods and services (beyond medicine). ‘Pregnancy and maternity’ is a protected characteristic under the UK Equality Act, because of discrimination pregnant women and mothers (especially nursing mothers) can experience. Perhaps ‘Menopause’ should be too, not simply as a gender discrimination issue.

The marginalisation is undoubtedly rooted in ageism – in mainstream society and between women – and sexism, the menopause being inextricably linked to loss of fertility and women’s (heteronormative) reproductive social value. If I hear anything more about the ‘male menopause’ I shall scream, and not because of hormonal changes. Heterosexual men going through the ‘male menopause’ often trade in their original wives for younger models, starting a family all over again. Women going through the (real) menopause are saying goodbye to their chances of ever having any (more) birth children, whether they want them or not.

In the 1970’s a man shop assistant said, when I was being mildly assertive, ‘don’t worry about her, her period’s probably due.’ And this menopause issue feels somehow similar, something very sexist, but with the added dimension of ageism. It feels like social exclusion from/by a world geared up for young, virile, things who have no limits, and don’t want anything to do with someone who reminds them that there are limits, that our bodies change, and that, in the end, we die. It feels like another aspect of the false (masculine) denial of vulnerability as part of the human condition.  All (cisgender) women go through the menopause, for now at least. While for some it is plain sailing, for others it is not. We should embrace each other in care and solidarity before, during and afterwards, not leave women to go through the menopause silently, on the margins, and alone.