Sex And The Culture.

I was discussing with a friend recently the traditions of romance and Monica Ali's Brick Lane [+ Amazon.co.uk] came up into the conversation.

Although I haven't read it myself, I have been told that it discusses the romantic relationships of a Bengali man and woman, and at one point of the conversation I felt extremely annoyed.

The plot features two sisters- one of whom stays in an arranged marriage, and the other has a failed romance.

Admittedly, what I do find rather distasteful is that even in literature by a part Bengali person, romance is still portrayed as failing.

This is not an absolute judgement on the book however- so please don't take this as a criticism of Ms Ali's novel; this simply leads onto my own experiences and ideas of how romance and love is portrayed in the British-Bengali culture today.

Again, this is only my experience: as a kid I grew up being told that affection- or the affection for someone of the opposite sex, is best not shown in public as it is considered embarrassing and almost... shameful? It's a hard to explain social norm... and perhaps extremely out-dated.

Having a mother who was born and raised primarily in Bangladesh and in her home village, she was extremely prudent. Her values and outlook on life were as reliably traditional as the technique she used to boil her rice. She was also brought over to England into an insulated Bengali society in Shadwell, London, in her late teens (she was about 16 when she got married, and arrived in England a year or so later) so her understanding of what it meant to be a woman in a British society would have still been extremely sheltered and desperately clinging onto what she grew up with.

Having said that, having been so young when she came to England, she had the potential to learn quickly and adapt.

I grew up in the early 1980s. Romance was explained to me then as a quiet virtue shared between a married couple behind closed doors, never mentioned and never discussed. In fact, it was the sheer fact that nobody mentioned romance at all, or love or affection for their partners, that taught children like me that romance and love weren't important nor really an intricate part of building relations with your partner. There was something else in its place- perhaps now understood as simple obligation to one another- but it wasn't romance.

Bollywood movies of that era were breaking into open sexuality- since the 1960s and more blatantly in the '70s, Indian women in film were slowly turning into idolised sex symbols- this in contrast to the cultured, mature and nurturing woman of the early black and white ghazal* movies was of huge shock and understandable interest to the Indian-Asian masses abroad- as well as in Britain, who had better access and means to view pirate entertainment.

*Ghazals are beautiful classical vocal songs, and I've often thought of them as Indian Opera. Today they are considered far too old fashioned; perhaps now more linked to Upper Class niche-isms than mass audience entertainment. However, many Indian folk still speak with pride about this beautiful musical form.

But aside from the changing visual role of the Indian woman in film, the representation of romance and love were also changing dramatically. Kisses on the neck, shoulders and calves were becoming considerably prominent- reminding you of course, that the fact you're able to see these areas of her body was very new to the average Bollywood audience. Romance and young love were now synonymous with exposure of skin and sexual beckonings- heaving chests and long, echoey sighs. This, in much contrast to the beautiful songs of emotion and longing, of lingering, yearning stares and the blushing of her cheek when their hands brushed together in accident.

A smile spoke a thousand I love you's. Now, a smile was accompanied by a quivering sigh.

This all had an affect on how romance was perceived and explained to me as a child- no longer was romance a quiet and intimate virtue shared by two people- needing no explanation because it simply was. Now it was the excuse for the public defiling of a woman's beauty during a provocative song and dance. It was a tool in luring in men (and women) and selling yourself off as a sexual being.

Just looking at the way I've described all of the above should give you some indication of the influence my mother had on me as a child; romance or the open pursuing of it, was scorned at. Movies and songs were fast forwarded and even the hint of a man grabbing a woman's wrist- with the dramatic flash of lightning and a windy rain storm outside, was a cue to much lewder offerings. This further encouraged me to believe that real romance wasn't about falling in love openly with someone- it wasn't good to want or lust or yearn for. Those things were for the corrupt type of romance, the corruptive sort of love. If it were good, why wasn't I allowed to watch?

It's incredibly hard to put across the troubles I had as a child putting what I saw on the TV screen and what I saw of my parent's relationship into some sort of real understanding of which was reality and which was fantasy. I had many problems trying to understand why I felt drawn and attracted to people and why what I wanted, inside, was somehow denied and non-existent in the real world. The real world dictated that nobody so much as walk side-by-side one another when in public, even though they are a married couple- let alone hold hands or even be seen looking at one another.

In the real world any signal that these two people may be actually attracted to one another was seen to implicitly and yet very explicitly represent that they had sexual relations with one another, and this was incredibly shameful and exceptionally distasteful in Bengali society- of the '80s, however.

It occurred to me as I grew older, maybe entering my teens, that parents- or couples, were often seen in public holding children in their arms. To me, and the specific environment I'd grown up in, this seemed like the only thing that linked these two together- their children. No couple seemed to display affection for their partner, simply a domestic obligation to cook meals for each other, or work everyday.

What the movie screen desperately emulated and poorly translated was the societal norm in Western culture- the pursuing of romance and acceptance of visual affection. This, however was still considered a vulgar act of virtual promiscuity in the Bengali culture.

What my parents and other couples I'd seen during my childhood in the '80s had was, in fact, the societal norm for most Bengali couples of their generation. Here- with the Bengali's living in England, was a true clash of ideals and lifestyle- and one which- if the movies had any indication of showing, was going to become a lively place for our two cultures to collide...

* * *

The idea that open romance is interpreted as vulgar within the Bengali culture is one thing. The notion that any relationship developed from romance before marriage will automatically fail is what drives me to write this entry.

'Love Marriages' are often spoken about by my parent's generation as if it were the bastardised version of a true and moral marriage. The simple tone of which that phrase is mentioned would give you some understanding of the feelings it incurs within them and anyone of the same upbringing. The implications are simple: all romances lead to sex, and any marriage proclaimed after falling in love suggests that they had sex before they were married. In this lies the problem most Bengali parent's can not accept about 'Love Marriages'.

It is simple to presume that they have had sex before marriage, which clashes with religious ideologies, but it is also quite another to realise that this could translate into sexual promiscuity- a real and acceptable reason for your daughter to be a whore and therefore disgrace the family- all under the pretence of "I fell out of love".

Personally, I hate the phrase 'Love Marriage'. Not because I share the feelings of my elders, but because I feel it is discriminative towards what would be- and is, the accepted norm for anyone who has grown up accepting the British culture as part of their own. It simply wears on me- and very hard, that I am expected to fail (and yes I do take it personally) at keeping a monogamous relationship with someone because I may have had strong affections for them before we were introduced to one another, and because I may have shown this happily to the outside world.

It becomes clearer- or perhaps, should be made obvious, that a lot of the perceptions against romance before marriage are held in an innate fear that young girls will 'sleep around'. It is useless to fight the logic of it however, that for a daughter to be promiscuous she would need a partner, and that would have to be someone's son (excluding homosexual relationships for the moment- homosexuality in the Bengali culture does exist). Quite often Bengali men seem to avoid the title of 'womaniser' but the Bengali woman is chastised as a 'whore'.

It would be hard to understand why- but one reason for consideration would be that in the lack of 'safe sex' or contraception, women are prone to becoming pregnant in sexual relationships, and so the obvious result would be several children from different partners, and this is one blatant result most families can not hide- although many have tried. The men, if choosing to be completely ignorant, can very easily evade involvement.

In addition, I was discussing the same topic with another friend and the suggestion was made that it was more about it being 'a Man's World' that had a ruling over why women were scorned so for being sexually promiscuous; Women have far more control over their sexuality, he said, than sometimes is apparent. The fact that she could control that and use it as she wishes can be threatening to men...

This could all factor in to it, but the main issue is still raging on...

* * *

We all know that the success rate for marriage in the West is hardly encouraging. Or alternatively, it is taken as proof enough for some to justify not living within the symbolism of marriage.

It is true that divorce rates in Asian cultures are low- yet if my parents are to be considered as a successful marriage, I'd beg for someone to have seen them as I had seen them with other couples during my childhood before they believed it. I still wonder if marriages in my generation are like that- and I have no doubts that there are couples who have been united who will perhaps never truly feel romantic ties for one another, only a bond brought on through pure necessity.

Having said that, the fact that my parents have stayed together shows an instinctive cooperation between them. It is true now that after spending over 25 years together in marriage, they have come to be bonded and loving towards one another in a way that seems indestructible. Yet, still, this love simply does not translate into the romantic gestures I, as a British born individual, would recognise as either genuine or even romantic in comparison to anything I have experienced in my life.

So it begs the question: what is romance?

Children born in England to Bengali families are often finding that silent Bengali ideologies are smacking hard against the vibrant approaches to life of Western culture. In this lies the inherent pain and intolerance many Bengalis face between parent and child.

I began writing this entry because I found it upsetting that the Bengali culture- my culture... still accepted as its norm that romantic relationships are bound to fail no matter what.

On the personal scale I found it sad that it would judge my attempts for happiness and love and hold that negative judgement as truth against me. It's depressing that someone's search for happiness and love can be determined by the dark premonition made by the Bengali culture- and I feel the culture is still fighting hard to find it's place in England and it's British born youth especailly in the topic of romance.

Many relationships are under huge negative pressures regardless of culture. Personality differences, communication issues and financial strains already factor into any given relationship. To be wanting so badly for a lasting bond outside of marriage- with perhaps the hopes of a lasting marriage, is something I feel need not be discouraged- no matter what cultural background.

I dislike and feel personally upset that Bengalis tells themselves that romantic relationships will fail- or are likely to fail because of a cultural perception.

And it is cultural perception. In my opinion, romance between two people- love and emotion, is simply something felt between those two people, and whereas culture and lifestyle can affect on how these emotions are translated into actions and therefore commitment, it does not ultimately define what the emotion is: Love.

It only defines the nature in which it thrives.

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