Café Dissensus

By Shyamasri Maji

Skin is associated with beauty and tactile communication. It plays a significant role in shaping one’s identity in the society. In any kind of face-to-face interaction, the first impressions are usually formed by observing the stranger’s physical attributes of which skin is the most pertinent organ. The epidermis, in this context, is crucial as a site and a sight. On being affected by any disease that is easily visible, the epidermis turns out to be a cause of anxiety. The malady not only triggers physiological discomfort but also challenges one’s acceptability in different zones of inter-personal relationships. Myths associated with epidermal diseases subject the patients to social exclusion, humiliation, withdrawal, depression and even trauma.

Postcolonial responses to a number of colonial narratives in literature such as Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness (1899), F.J. Thwaites’ Where Gods are Vain (1934) and Fever (1939) represent the epidermis as a pretext for racial discrimination and genocide. Very few literary narratives describe the physiological and psychological effects of contagious and non-contagious epidermal conditions in different historical backgrounds. Vedic literature¹ as well as the Bible² refer to skin ailments such as leprosy and vitiligo, however, the spiritual and the medical interpretations in them are largely exclusive of insiders’ views. As observed in the plays of William Shakespeare and Ben Jonson and also in the ancient epics of Indian literature, smallpox, vitiligo and leprosy were considered as a curse, a consequence of leading sinful life. Samba’s story bears evidence to it. On being cursed by Sage Durvasa for mocking him, Samba, son of Lord Shri Krishna, suffers from leprosy. He was cured of the ailment by worshipping Surya dev for twelve years.³

Nails and hair are integral to epidermal studies. As far as representation of women is concerned these sub-epidermal constituents are widely featured in cultural discourses while constructing parameters of feminine beauty and ugliness. In The Ramayana, for example, Shurpanakha, the demoness whose nose was chopped off by Lakshman, was not regarded as a beautiful woman. Her ugliness as conveyed through her name “Shurpanakha” meaning “nails like winnowing fan,” constructed her as a veritable Other among the Aryan women in the epic. It, somehow, functioned as a ploy justifying Lakshman’s rejection of her marriage proposal and subsequently his act of violence that disfigured her. In Western mythology, Medusa, the gorgon with snakes on her head, was viewed as a symbol of danger. A sight of her horrified the onlooker so much that the creature turned into stone. The three witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth were considered ugly because they had excessive facial hair.

In recent times, quite a good number of authors and filmmakers have dealt with unconventional topics such as physical disabilities, cancer struggle, mental illness, autism, rare genetic disorders and acid attack survivors. Eminent American writers such as Susan Sontag and Audre Lorde have written extensively about their individual battle with cancer. In the large array of fictional and non-fictional writings, I have read so far, I haven’t come across a female or a male character who narrates his/her lived experience with a severe dermatological illness. Neither have I heard of any critically acclaimed film that examines the stigma, trauma and health issues experienced by women and men suffering from severe skin diseases in the Indian society. The silence of creative circles on dermatological illness and the absence of dermatologically challenged actors and characters from the performative platforms interrogate the visibility and the acceptance of people with diseased epidermis in our society. It also shows that the matter of their involvement in marital and romantic relationships do not receive adequate attention in artistic representations.

My creative inclination towards skin is an attempt to address this gap. In my debut collection Forgive Me Dear Papa and Other Poems (Hawakal, 2023), I have articulated my thoughts on Indian women’s obsession with achieving the patriarchal standards of beauty most of which include cosmetic treatments, fairness creams and removal of unwanted hair (“Sinkholes,” “The Other Woman”). I have also talked about hormonal issues causing excess facial hair in women (“My Name is Witch”) and the desire for whiteness in post-colonial male fantasy (“The French Lady”). Poems such as “The Psoriasis Girl—Four Poems,” “My Mottled Skin” and “Backless Blouse” represent the anguish, desires and resistance of a woman suffering from a severe skin ailment. Since they reveal a woman’s point of view, they underline the gender hierarchy and patriarchal oppression in epidermal discourses.

Since chronic illness of the skin is associated with ugliness, it usually challenges the acceptability of a female body with diseased epidermis in marital/sexual relationships. Though our nation has made remarkable progress in various fields, even today, a woman’s identity and position are mostly viewed in terms of marriage and motherhood. In such a social set-up, a dermatologically challenged woman bears on her head a huge burden of pity if she is unable to find a suitable match through marital alliance or stays single by choice. Imagine her embarrassment and humiliation when her skin condition is publicly scrutinised, debated, viewed as a topic of parental neglect and declared as a cause of spinsterhood in community functions and even in care providing places such as salons and hospitals. Memories of embarrassment and humiliation gradually lead to traumatic apprehensions. The first poem in “The Psoriasis Girl—Four Poems” expresses this existential dread:

Scales swathe my lacerated skin.
Eyes impale the frock’s fabric thin.
Wherever I go, their queries tow,
whispers, gaze, tis a murky maze,
I steer through the hid
ous throng
from hell to hades,
meeting the doleful eyes
in the fish mart, on the Ganges ghat
in family weddings,
in the funeral

I shudder
at the thought of their curious eyes
ogling at my cold bare body,
my close lids moisten as
I watch women asking each other
if ever a man trod this scarred land,
Twenty years ago
they’d asked me the same question
after giving me a sponge bath
on a white hospital bed

The skin poems in my book stemmed from personal experiences of living with psoriasis for more than twenty-five years. It is an auto-immune disease characterised by scales and red flare-ups on the epidermis of body and scalp. Though it is not contagious, it is incurable. It worsens in extreme weather conditions and is sometimes painful. Also, it affects the joints causing psoriatic arthritis. Medical treatments include mostly corticosteroids, moisturisers, phototherapy and ayurvedic oils. The latest panacea is biologics about which I don’t know much. Having used corticosteroids, oral medicines and oils for years, without any good results, I discarded them at the age of nineteen. Though my parents insisted on visiting renowned dermatologists and physicians, I decided to give up the cumbersome treatments and left my severe epidermal condition in the hands of fate. This was a kind of relief to me because no longer I had to worry about the soiling of my clothes from topical applications and there was freedom from awkwardness caused by the foul odour of ayurvedic oils diluted with cow urine.

At school, I wore full sleeves and stockings to hide my flared-up elbows and knees. This sartorial improvisation made me an odd girl in the eyes of my classmates. A bout of irritation chased me all the time because every morning I had to apply a large quantity of coconut oil on my head to moisten my flaky scalp and wash it away with a medicated shampoo in the afternoon. This was followed by topical applications of steroidal ointments and salicylic acid-based lotions in the affected areas. Often, I caught cold and suffered from headache due to daily washing of my hair. Antibiotics taken for cold, fever and stomach infections increased the flare-ups. I got exhausted by the daily routine of epidermal caregiving. It was tough to concentrate on studies and at the same time maintain this medical regimen meticulously for years. Besides, the oral medicines had side effects causing gastrointestinal issues. During the mid-1990s, we did not know that in the long run this autoimmune disorder might invite cardiovascular complications, vision problems and clinical depression.

Even today, very few people can think of an epidermal aberration as either a cause or an effect of other diseases. Unfortunately, they do not realise the severity in this context because psoriasis, vitiligo, eczema, and several other skin conditions are usually not associated with mortality. Over the years, inevitably and unwittingly, my worldview was shaped by the experiential lens of a ‘psoriasis girl.’ I do not remember when and how the sensitivity of my epidermal layers seeped through the layers of my mind and dug deep roots into my female consciousness. My poetry reveals my wounded consciousness and at the same time, it tells the untold story of several Indian women who, like me, have fought back to survive emotionally in an epidermis-hostile society.

Notes

1. In his article “Skin in Health and Diseases in Rgveda Samhita: An Overview” (2013), Amiya Kumar Mukhopadhyay says that hair diseases and leprosy are mentioned in the vedic hymns. Skin in Health and Diseases in Ṛgveda Saṃhiṭa: An Overview – PMC (nih.gov)
2. In Leviticus 13, Gods’s message on leprosy and other skin diseases is conveyed to Moses and Aron. Leviticus 13 CEV – Skin Diseases -The Lord told Moses and – Bible Gateway
3. Samba Purana, which is a upapurana dedicated to the sun god, describes the curse of Samba. Samba – Vyasa Mahabharata (vyasaonline.com)

Bio:
Shyamasri Maji is an Assistant Professor in English at Durgapur Women’s College in West Bengal. She was the recipient of Independent Research fellowship 2018-19 at Satyajit Ray Film and Television Institute, Kolkata. She wrote her doctoral thesis on “Anxiety of Representation in Select Anglo-Indian Writers” (Burdwan University, 2018). Her book reviews and articles have been published in reputed journals such as South Asian Review, Indian Literature, Economic & Political Weekly, Asian Review of Books, Antipodes, and Third World Thematics. She writes poems and short stories in English. Her debut collection Forgive Me Dear Papa and Other Poems (Hawakal) was published in December, 2023.

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