A re-examination of dominant upper-caste voices that engage with liberal values and yet disengage from those very ideas that grow from justice, equality and self-determination.
—
THIS essay is an intellectual history of the language that surrounded birth control in India— with a focus on key thinkers of the time, most notably, Dr B.R. Ambedkar.
It does not examine contraception as a physical mechanism to prevent pregnancy, nor does it discuss the production and sale of condoms, diaphragms and oral pills (that entered the Indian markets from the 1930s onwards).
Instead, it treats the issue of birth control not as static, but as one that exists within a changing social and political context. This perspective is useful in understanding contraception not simply as a function to regulate childbearing, but as a moral and intellectual lens to understand how we approach women’s reproductive health.
It nourishes skepticism about the permanence of concepts and openness to different moral and philosophical perspectives simultaneously.
Feminist concerns in India
It may be fair to argue that the feminist movement in India has faced enduring internal challenges. Brahminical feminism has shown a narrow vision in the representation, division of labour, access to resources and prioritisation of issues.
Brahminical feminism has shown a narrow vision in the representation, division of labour, access to resources and prioritisation of issues.
For instance, the second wave of feminism in India saw liberals bring to the table matters of gender and class. It neglected the missing Dalit representation, double discrimination of caste and gender injustice, and the subsuming of the feminist agenda by upper-caste goals.
Academic language has, in recent years, seen remarkable scholarships, such as the work of Shailaja Paik, Sharmila Rege and Gopal Guru calling out these inadequacies and asserting that sexual politics cannot be revised without contesting differential access to and control over labour, sexuality and reproduction by caste and class.
Also read: Ambedkar: The Romantics
However, the gains of the caste-vigilant feminist movement in India have been limited to dismantling caste privilege, both within and beyond academia.
The critique does not demand that non-Dalit feminist allies be banished into guilt or compelled to uncritically support Dalit feminism. Instead, it has asked for a rewriting of narratives that do not find upper caste stories as central, nor to homogenise Dalit voices and integrate them into the nation without challenging existing networks of power.
However, these spaces of introspection have largely been excluded by the feminist cause in modern India. Feminist concerns have reproduced a caste-based character of capital accumulation rather than addressing the problems of recognition and redistribution.
India’s #MeToo movement is a case in point. It is fair to say that the #MeToo movement in India was a watershed moment by breaking the silence on sexual harassment and assault in the workplace by calling out perpetrators, many of whom were powerful men, in a public way.
The campaign gained strength through social media and offline activism and brought new power to women who survived workplace harassment. This shift in conversation was a significant moment in the nation’s story— it shifted the curtain of shame from the victim to the perpetrator, encouraged nuanced discussions on power dynamics at work and brought women’s experiences to the centre stage.
For the most part, however, the movement comprised upper-class and upper-caste narratives. It did not include domestic workers, Dalit women or those in the corners of rural India, who were neither represented nor their concerns included.
The discussions about dignity and justice at the workplace by experts in the field were written in the English language, to an English-speaking audience and circulated through English media.
The gains of the caste-vigilant feminist movement in India have been limited to dismantling caste privilege, both within and beyond academia.
Little attention was given to media content reaching vernacular audiences, and, by extension, there was limited effort to include their voices and stories.
Also read: B.R. Ambedkar’s timeless relevance
Similar patterns of selective outrage reflect in wanting media coverage and protests for matters of violence against Dalits and Muslims. Feminist issues of critical significance such as provisions for schooling and lavatories for Dalit women and children have missed the radar of upper-caste Indian feminists, even though— despite what the Prime Minister and government reports state— these issues are far from being resolved.
This criticism is not to say that the liberal tradition altogether be disbanded. Liberal thought has been central to the story of Indian feminism. As we know, there is no one kind of feminism, and individuals are capable of both great liberalism and illiberalism— often in the same moment. This convergence of the liberal and illiberal is true for the birth control story and it forms the essence of this essay.
A global birth control story
The history of birth control in India had two extremes. On the one hand, there were material technologies that allowed women and men the freedom from childbearing and the ability to enjoy sex with lowered risks of pregnancy. On the other hand, contraceptive policy was limited by ideological constraints of caste, class and sex, imbibing within its fold already established social differences with a greater presence.
I take the instance of Margaret Sanger (1879–1966) who played a crucial role in promoting birth control in the Global South and India in particular. A US citizen with close ties to eugenicist organisations in the UK, she brings a fascinating strand of feminism to consider in the present times.
Feminist concerns have reproduced a caste-based character of capital accumulation rather than addressing the problems of recognition and redistribution.
It is one that provided logistical relief to poor women seeking to limit the number of children they had to bear, by trying to contain poor people for the benefit of a global development agenda.
Sanger brings a complex and clever feminism to the table. It is a feminism that blurs the lines between the East and the West in that it carries continuities and a striking resemblance to strands of feminism understood and promoted by contemporary liberal India and their dominant positioning vis-à-vis marginalised groups, such as Dalits, Muslims and the urban and rural poor.
It claims to move forward against certain patriarchal structures but remains decidedly inadequate in its will to include those diverging in caste and class.
Also read: Babasaheb Dr Ambedkar’s utopia
Therefore, the beginnings of modern sexual politics of the 20th century did not represent the diverse range of reproductive practices and experiences across the world, rather, they represented one with a narrow and disruptive worldview.
Sanger’s approach to birth control was notable on three accounts— first, her absent concern for existing indigenous practices; second, her limited concern for the health of poor women; and third, a missing recognition for those already working in the field.
For example, Sanger’s trips to India included meetings with high-level dignitaries, such as M.K. Gandhi. She made no effort to meet those who advocated the use of birth control for women’s well-being (not for protecting the family unit) such as Periyar E.V. Ramasamy or Dr Ambedkar.
On the issue, Periyar said, “Others advocate birth control with a view of preserving the health of women and conserving family property; but we advocate it for the liberation of women.”
Dr Ambedkar pushed for state support to contraception in the Bombay legislative assembly in 1938 towards the maternal health of women at a time when Gandhi opposed all forms of birth control and advocated only abstinence.
The discussions about dignity and justice at the workplace by experts in the field were written in the English language, to an English-speaking audience and circulated through English media.
Sanger’s meeting with Gandhi made waves in the national and international press because of her famous discussion with the renowned spiritual leader of the East.
In many ways, Gandhi’s popularity boosted her own. This gives context to Sanger’s unwillingness to engage with indigenous customs and leadership as well as her limited concern for the poor— constructed through exclusionary language and practices regarding birth control.
Also read: Reading as an antidote to ‘Frustration’: Ambedkar’s thoughts
I seek to complicate this by blurring the lines between the East and the West— asserting that the language and agenda of Indian leadership and corridors of power reflected anxieties that were similar to their colonial counterparts.
The reason behind the similarity is a shared desire to contain ‘certain’ people while showing concern, albeit limited, for women’s reproductive health.
I argue that this points to the range of liberal and illiberal values that were held in the same historical moment and at the heart of birth control histories are the tensions and fragmentations of modern feminist thought in India.
Ambedkar, on the side of justice
An intellectual giant of the 20th century, B.R. Ambedkar (1891–1956) is remembered as a champion of civil rights and dignity for all citizens, leader of the Untouchable community, chair of the Drafting Committee of the Constitution and the first law minister of independent India.
In an important speech, not traditionally in his field of work, he made a strong case for birth control in 1938 to the Bombay Legislative Assembly. His views on birth control stood in contrast to the glorification of motherhood and rearing (of sons) as symbolic of nation-building that was the rhetoric of popular Hindu nationalists, his contemporaries in and outside Parliament.
In a demonstration of fundamental humanism, his arguments in favour of birth control emphasised that, first and foremost, the health of the woman be protected and the impact of multiple pregnancies on her body be considered— convergence of the personal and political that he garnered from experiences of the ill health of his first wife, Ramabai.
The beginnings of modern sexual politics of the 20th century did not represent the diverse range of reproductive practices and experiences across the world.
As he was known to do, he contested M.K. Gandhi’s stance on sexual abstinence, saying, “It must be remembered that while continence in the unmarried state may be possible, it is nothing but displaying ignorance about human nature to expect that young and healthy couples, living together and fond of each other, can observe continence for years together.”
Also read: How to cultivate democracy in a soil that is essentially undemocratic: The Ambedkar way
In a critique and direct reference to Gandhi, he said, “Even the advocates of continence cannot claim that ordinary persons will be able to eschew sexual intercourse altogether throughout their lives. The laying aside of continence even for a single day every year may lead to an annual conception … It is necessary to remember that just as appetite for food differs in the case of different persons, so sexual appetite also varies from person to person.”
In what we would consider a powerful feminist assertion in his time and ours, Ambedkar brought women’s own experiences of childbirth into the discussion.
He said, “If men had to bear the pangs which women have to undergo during childbirth none of them would even consent to bear more than a single child in his life.”
This argument gave cognisance to two concerns. First, it recognised the difficulties of childbirth for women from different sections of society; many of whom he understood did not have access to medical facilities that might have eased their pain.
Second, it identified that women did not, but should, have control over the number of children they themselves have to bear.
Ambedkar’s ability to view the woman as deserving of respect that was independent from her presumed familial or national responsibilities carries a thundering relevance in present times.
Even as the Indian legal system continues to struggle to identify the woman as an individual citizen, separate from her roles as a mother, a daughter or a wife, Ambedkar’s commitment to fundamental humanism and the assertion that “equality may be a fiction but nonetheless one must accept it as the governing principle” launches an enduring critique on the many indecencies of a Hindu society that glorifies women as mothers, and worse, bearers of sons.
Also read: Ambedkarite lawyers group writes to CJI to declare April 14 a permanent court holiday
Ambedkar’s respect for the intellect of marginalised classes and marginalised castes also set him apart from most nationalists and Western advocates of birth control, who converged on their dismissive attitude towards those they called ‘unsophisticated sisters’.
In an important speech, not traditionally in his field of work, Ambedkar made a strong case for birth control in 1938 to the Bombay Legislative Assembly.
Paying due consideration to communities most affected by governmental policy and practice, Ambedkar said, “The fear that birth control propaganda will fail to filter down to the masses and the result of the movement will thus be dysgenic instead of eugenic, is groundless.
“The experience gained in Western countries establishes the fact that the lower classes do take advantage of contraceptives as soon as they are made cognisant of them, the need being greater in their cases. The masses in our country, though illiterate, are intelligent enough to know in what their own interest lies and hence there is no doubt that they will fully utilise this invention also as soon as they are made aware of its existence.”
In contrast stands Raghunath Dhondo Karve (1882–1983), one of India’s most well-known advocates of birth control and a contemporary of Ambedkar.
He identified himself as an educator of sexual subjects, published manuals in Marathi and English, and was devoted to Western wisdom on the same.
He is symbolic of an internally turbulent libertarian approach that imposed justice upon ‘lesser’ people. Karve set up clinics to provide women with contraceptives in the face of much social hostility on the one hand, and, on the other, disregarded their ability to regulate (their own) marital sex.
In a critique of the rhythm method that was being thrust upon the Indian people by the first health minister of independent India and staunch Gandhian Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, he said, “Is the rhythm method so simple that it can be easily grasped by idiots, whether literate or illiterate? … Are illiterate persons capable of taking these observations themselves and deciding which days they have to abstain?”
The argument that had emerged and gained acceptance amongst liberals who promoted contraception was that larger populations symbolised economic and cultural backwardness and that the path to progress and modernity was tied to limiting the Indian population, albeit, certain people.
Also read: From the vault: Contemporary challenges before the anti-caste movement
Indeed, far from recognising contraception as an enabling tool to navigate childbearing, birth control came to bear the marks of entitled societies.
Indian law and birth control
There are historical moments intimately intertwined within the history of contraception. The contentious Child Marriage Restraint Act, 1929 (also called the Sarda Act of 1929— a legislation that fixed the marriageable age for girls at 14 years and boys at 18 years) is relevant to narratives of childbearing and motherhood.
Ambedkar was aware of how birth control could protect the well-being of women, particularly those from vulnerable backgrounds. Reflecting a pragmatism characteristic to his analyses, Ambedkar understood how the language of law affected marriage and consequently sexual practices.
He alluded to the Sarda Act (1929) and argued, “When we notice the difficulties in the enforcement of the Sarda Act, fixing the minimum age of marriage of a girl at 14, we can easily see that it is almost useless to hope that in the near future women in our country will postpone their marriages and population will be checked thereby.”
He emphasised the concerns of women with limited access to medical healthcare and said, “The present keen struggle of life renders timely marriage impossible for many and thus exposes them to lose their lives by the birth of children in their diseased condition or in too great numbers or in too rapid succession.
Ambedkar’s ability to view the woman as deserving of respect that was independent from her presumed familial or national responsibilities carries a thundering relevance in present times.
“Attempts at abortion, resorted to for the prevention of unwanted progeny, exact a heavy toll on female lives.”
Ambedkar’s emphasis on the need for birth control extended through his position in the power corridors of government where he sought to pass a resolution in the Bombay Legislative Assembly in 1938, saying, “Bombay is the gateway of India and this movement also entered this country through that very gate.
Also read: Dr. Ambedkar’s rich legacy: The Leaflet’s attempt to cull out form and substance
“It would be in the fitness of things, therefore, that it should also be nurtured in this very province… Birth control movement has afforded such an opportunity to our provincial government and it is hoped that they will not let it slip but will fully utilise it to the benefit of themselves and the people.”
His resolution was defeated with 11 members voting in favour of the Bill and 52 members opposing it on grounds that it would encourage immorality and the breakdown of the Indian family unit.
Ambedkar’s arguments for birth control included incisive discussions on the need for all women to have access to reproductive choices and sexual rights for their own health and well-being, above all. It represents a remarkable brand of feminism that bridged ideological maturity with material possibilities.
Through his arguments, Ambedkar skilfully put the onus of providing medical care and contraceptive access squarely on the State, disproving elite claims of the inability of the masses to manage marital sex.
He demonstrated a powerful intellectual position on the practical possibilities of equality— one that self-proclaimed liberals would be well advised to consider in contemporary feminist debates.
Conclusion: Identifying alternate opposites
Simply put, this discussion has attempted to blur the distinctions between the liberal and illiberal— in order to unsettle the ease of authority that urban elite Indian feminists might allow themselves; a position that is taken away from those who look and practise differently.
The significance of this discussion is to re-examine the dominant upper-caste voices that engage with liberal values and yet disengage from those very ideas that grow from justice, equality and self-determination.
I hope this prompts fierce feminist engagements with the law, enables a vigilance of the entitlements of caste and class that shape our positioning, and locate a feminism that is syncretic because of its many influences, and not despite it.
As Ambedkar reminds us, it demands an understanding of the kind of choices and decisions we make. It demands that we scrutinise our claim for equality, lest we leave someone behind.
