'It's Your Fault' parody video taking on controversial comments by public figures towards rape in India. Courtesy: All India Backchod

AS A girl born in India, it was normally expected that I only ever step out on the street when accompanied by a male relative. For many Indian women, sexual harassment, catcalling and whistling are pervasive but regular parts of their lives. And every day, somewhere, this interaction crosses the line into something more fatal.

Reports coming out of India over the last few weeks on the abduction, gang rape and lynching of two teenage girls in Badaun were distressing, but not new. Neither was the honour killing of a pregnant woman in Lahore, who was stoned to death by her family for marrying the man she loved.

Growing up in India, my parents raised my brother and I with a liberal education and recognition of gender equality. However, as soon as we stepped outside the comfort of our home, the miles-apart distance between our status as male and female became painfully apparent.

There are certain expectations of a woman in Indian society. Girls should be shy, not loud. They should learn how to cook and clean, not play sports. They should be modest; they shouldn’t wear clothes that are too short or revealing. They should keep to themselves; too much interaction with boys is no good.

Although these expectations are not limited to Indian society, and can be found even here in Australia, in India they often come with little emphasis on men’s behaviour, and of the consequences of abusing these privileges afforded to men.

Last year, I was visiting family back in India amidst the loud media reports about the treatment of women. Knowing that I was not very different in appearance or demeanour to the everyday victims of gender violence in India meant that I was in constant fear of being attacked by men on the street. Once again, I was unable to go anywhere on my own.

This fear is aggravated when the Indian legal system does little to enforce women’s rights, and politicians lend a helping hand to the “boys will be boys” mentality. Even Bollywood suggests little else other than women as heroines clad in heavy makeup and pretty costumes running across wheat fields as they are chased by their lover in a romantic sequence, or at the very best, as the side kick of the male hero who saves the day.

However, these issues are slowly coming under the spotlight with many decrying the system. Headlines, nationwide protests, and celebrity campaigns are attempting to raise awareness in the simplest ways. They reflect a public anguish that demands answers for why Indian women suffer abuse and mistreatment on a daily basis.

The loud aftermath of the gang rape in Delhi has seen some progress. Over 1,300 rape cases and thousands of molestation cases have been reported, and anti-rape laws and better enforcement have been stressed, with the Indian Parliament passing a bill containing harsher punishments for rapists.

Under the Bill, stalking, acid violence, disrobing are all specific crimes attracting increased jail terms. And any protections afforded to police officers, allowing them to let complaints slide, have been removed. These changes have made women more willing to speak out and report the crimes against them.

On the other hand, a large number of honour killings because of caste divisions are still inherent in Indian society, leading to inter-caste violence and social oppression between marginalised groups. One in five cases of honour killings reported internationally comes from India.

As someone raised in a Hindu family, I was taught that marrying a Muslim was off-limits and unacceptable. I saw lengthy pre-marriage ceremonies being carried out to ensure that everything - from the bride’s horoscope to her caste - was perfectly matched with her partner. There is important cultural significance to these traditions, and whenever one defies these expectations, social ostracisation and family shame is common. In some drastic cases, this shame leads to honour killings.

Whilst a separate bill to address these crimes has not yet been passed, attempts by the previous Congress Party in 2010, and later by the Law Commission of India in 2012 have certainly been made.

Changing mindsets is perhaps the biggest challenge for India, which has ranked as the world’s fourth most dangerous country for women, behind Afghanistan, Congo and Pakistan.

Dr Manjula O’Connor, who has worked on various Indian campaigns and projects for gender-based violence, comments that a large reason behind such crimes is “the male patriarchal system, which is still going on in huge parts on the country”.

“The government needs to start supporting girls in families. Dowry has been outlawed by the country since 1961 but still continues, putting material value on boys and a major disincentive to have girls,” she explains.

Although the country’s newly elected Prime Minister Narenda Modi has expressed a desire to ensure women’s safety, some women’s rights groups believe that gender equality isn’t high on his list of priorities. Modi’s majoritarian agenda reflects two-thirds of his ministers as part of a strong Hindu grassroots movement, creating doubts about his ability to bridge the gap between the Hindus and Muslims.

Modi’s party, the BJP, does have notable female members including Women and Child Development minister Maneka Gandhi, who has recently called for Rape Crisis Centres in all districts of the court being set up. The BJP’s education program for girls has also been praised. Dr O’Connor, who worked with local supporters of the BJP in Melbourne, comments that “the new government has made it very clear that women are on their agenda”, and that they will work towards “tackling negative issues hat plague Indian women”. Whether Modi’s blueprint offers any substantial hope and justice for Indian women remains to be seen in the coming months.

Whilst the government may or may not introduce concrete initiatives, a ground-up approach is certainly rising. Online petitions like The Delhi Womanifesto have attracted thousands of signatures and video campaigns like the AIB’s “It’s my fault” are confronting a national audience.

Just a few weeks ago, change came from within ‘khap panchayats,’ self-elected village councils that covertly endorse these killings for the family’s honour. Historic amendments were made to 600-year-old norms, allowing for inter-caste marriage in the Satrol khap panchayat in Narnid village.

Although this gives some hope in changing the plight of women, I have to admit that I don’t plan on settling in India anytime soon out of fear for my own safety.

Until the government looks at large-scale reform to the formal justice system, and in society on women’s right, slow and small steps are all that Indian women who are braver than me can look to for a discourse advocating change in attitudes against women.

Astha Rajvanshi is Editor at Honi Soit, Media Honours student at Sydney University and Immediate Past President at University of Sydney Union. You can follow her on Twitter @astha_raj