I have worked at several places ranging from small rural-based NGOs to large international NGOs, and now I work at a social enterprise that I founded. When I began my professional engagement way back in 1987, the words gender or women’s rights were still unfamiliar to a large section of civil society, unless they happened to be part of the women’s movement. In a rural NGO I worked with, I was the first woman from ‘outside’ to become part of the team. There were six other women and two men on the team and they were all from the district that the NGO worked in. The other person from ‘outside’ was the founder of the NGO, the third man on the team. All the six women had very difficult personal stories, of neglect, abuse and severe domestic violence. They found a safe space and a sense of solidarity, while working with this NGO. However, the solidarity was a rather shifting, dynamic experience, as at different points in time they judged each other through the lens that years of social conditioning had got them used to and often had less than complimentary things to say about each other. The presence of ‘outsiders’ helped in talking through some of these issues and patching up on some of these differences. But then, I, the outsider, young, just beginning work with romantic ideas of rural life, got to be on the receiving end. I learnt about workplace sexuality, almost like a trial through fire that I was personally tested by. False rumours were spread that I was in a relationship with one of the men who was married. They judged me for this, when actually there was no such relationship. And the workplace lost all of its ‘safety’ for me.

I went on to have several such experiences over the years, being a single young woman probably made me more vulnerable to this, and I learnt early on about an almost subaltern culture that exists in institutions. As part of this culture, relationships and interpersonal relationships were never talked about in official discussions and formal spaces. But these were the most important topics in all gossip sessions and informal conversations. There is little recognition of the existence of this subaltern culture, leave alone addressing its impact on the ‘formal work culture’.

As I moved to work with a large international NGO, once again I was the only woman in an all-male field team. I continued to learn about how the workplace could be fun and discriminating at the same time. How one could love the work one was doing, enjoy being with male colleagues, but also be invisibilised and discriminated at times. I put up a good fight, I think, challenging not just processes, but also policies and decision-making. I did receive support from some quarters. There were male colleagues who believed in gender equality and who shared my perspective. But it occurs to me as I write this, that the support I received was more ‘informal’ in nature, in personal, one-on-one conversations, not as part of formal spaces where discussions were held, or decisions made. Sometimes it was patronizing, almost in the nature of a “let’s indulge her” spirit.

Over these years, I built relationships and networks with other feminists and persons who shared similar values and beliefs. I learnt about feminism, the women’s movement, about Gender theory and slowly was able to put words to my experiences. Somewhere, on this journey, I began to realise, a realisation that turned into a conviction, that one cannot be facilitating ‘transformative social change’ outside, amongst the communities we work with, without building those same principles in the running of institutions. In fact, I would now go a step ahead and say that an institution which creates a binary between ‘inside’ and ‘outside’, which does not focus on its own working and practice, on its own people, processes and workspaces, cannot effect any lasting change that truly questions power relations. Sure, they can build bridges and schools, even build SHGs (Self-Help Groups) and have livelihood programmes, but that would not be altering the ‘positions’ of the vulnerable communities, nor would it have an impact on unequal power relations in any meaningful way. Programmes, campaigns and movements spearheaded by NGOs have been ‘projectised’ in this inability to reflect and work upon their own cultures, processes and power, and to keep a purely ‘outward lens’ on their work and their being.

So fast-forward to 2008, when we set up Azad Foundation and Sakha. We were clear and intentional in our approach that as we enable the women from diverse marginalised communities to reclaim their power and agency, we need to also be continuously working on our own selves, our interpersonal dynamics, and our processes. Azad Foundation and Sakha are a hybrid social enterprise dedicated to enabling cis/trans women from marginalised communities empower themselves and gain entry into the profession of driving, a non-traditional livelihood for women. Azad Foundation engages with women, men, boys and girls from diverse marginalised communities towards helping build a supportive community-level eco system and equipping women with a skills++ learning programme. Sakha engages with markets towards nurturing remunerative livelihoods with dignity.

We believe that we cannot build safe spaces for ‘communities’ we work with, without having those safe spaces built for those who work within the organisation. Of course, this is not to say that we are always successful. But yes, it has always been and continues to be a priority amongst the leadership. Azad works with what we call “love-based leadership” where, love for oneself helps us to work on our vulnerabilities, a love for humanity helps to build relationships of compassion and empathy with the women, men, adolescent girls, and people of diverse genders and sexualities with whom we work. This does not mean we de-prioritise on our commitments or accountability.

We have miles to go before we sleep. We can do better on diversity in particular, as we have not had a transgender person working with us on staff, though we have tried to reach out. However, the women drivers who enrol with Azad have been able to come out and express their diverse sexual and gender identities. We are sometimes challenged by staff turnover, we struggle to balance between the demands of work and needs of self, and we have to continuously work on issues of power – be it that of hierarchy, age, experience, caste, class, language etc. So, by no means is our work done. But can it ever be done? It’s always work-in-progress, as is our work externally. In the current funding environment, it is not easy to invest resources in this work. That is a wider challenge for our sector. Still, personally, I feel inspired by a work practice that forms a spectrum between the self and the external world, where learning is a continuous process – learning about self and the world outside.

Disclaimer: Even as I write this, I am fully cognizant of my perspective as a founder, a cis-heterosexual woman privileged by my caste, class and religion. Much as I try to be sensitive to other perspectives, I think another person from a different context might look upon the efforts undertaken in Azad and Sakha differently.

Cover Image: Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash