Vaibhav Kharat
India’s recent history has been stained once again by two horrifying incidents of sexual violence—one in Bengal and the other in Bihar. Both crimes were monstrous, but the response to them exposes the rot at the core of Indian society, a society that remains shackled by caste even in its darkest moments. The message from the powers that be the media, the political class, civil society, university students, professors, students organisation, corporate white collar managerial class, government servants, and so-called feminist writer, poets, poetessis clear: some lives are worth fighting for, and others, especially those are lower at social strata or marginalised like Dalit women, can be discarded without a second thought.
In Bengal, a Hindu doctor was savagely raped. The nation erupted. The media descended like vultures, dissecting every detail. Bollywood celebrities, who usually confine their activism to Twitter hashtags, suddenly found their voices. Politicians who specialize in crocodile tears made sure to condemning the crime. Candlelight vigils, protest and marches were organized, and the outrage was palpable, visible, and loud.
Then there is Bihar, A Dalit girl was brutalized beyond belief, her breasts, vagina mutilated and her body was left devastated in front of her family. But where is the outcry? Where is Media , Civil society members, students organisation and so called feminist and Dalit saviours ? The same media that couldn’t stop talking about the Bengal case went mute. The politicians, celebrities, and so-called feminists who were so vocal a moment ago suddenly had nothing to say. There were no candlelight vigils, no marches, no editorials calling for justice. The message was as loud as it was shameful: when a Dalit woman is raped, society doesn’t care.
This is the ugly reality of India, a nation that proclaims equality but harbours deep-rooted biases and prejudices at the very core of its being. The caste system, though legally abolished on paper, persists like a cancer in the hearts and minds of its people, shaping every action-interaction-reaction, every signal, every judgment, every act of empathy or lack thereof. It is the invisible hand that steers societal norms, dictating who is worthy of compassion to campaign, sympathy to support, and voice to raise and who is condemned to suffer in silence and void. In this twisted hierarchy, the suffering of a Dalit woman is not just invisible; it is systematically erased and rendered meaningless by the indifference of those who benefit from the status quo. Her humanity is denied at every turn by the media that overlooks her story, by the politicians who refuse to speak her name, and by the society that turns its back on her pain. She is reduced to a mere statistic, a footnote in the brutal narrative of caste-based violence, her dignity stripped away by the apathy of a casteist society.
To those who wield power, whether through politics, media, or social influence, she is expendable, a sacrifice on the altar of caste privilege. Her life, her body, and her pain, her resistance, her dignity ,her chastity, her loss are seen as collateral damage in the maintenance of an oppressive social order that values the honour of upper or dominant castes over the very existence of Dalits. Her suffering is met with silence, a silence that speaks volumes about the value or lack thereof assigned to Dalit lives in this so-called modern society. This is not just a failure of empathy; it is an active, deliberate dehumanization. It is the product of a deeply entrenched caste mentality that sees Dalits as lesser beings, unworthy of the basic dignity afforded to others. When a Dalit woman is brutalized, her trauma is minimized, her screams are muffled, and her existence is all but ignored. She becomes a ghost in her land, living in the shadows of a society that refuses to see her.
As Dr Ambedkar said, ‘The caste system is more than just a social construct; it is a psychological weapon wielded to maintain power and control. It infiltrates the very psyche of individuals, teaching them from birth who to revere and who to despise, who to protect and who to abandon. It is a poison that taints every aspect of life in India, from the corridors of power to the most intimate relationships, creating a society where the worth of a human being is measured not by their actions, but by their caste’. In this dystopian reality, the pain of a Dalit woman is a burden she must bear alone, for society has deemed her unworthy of solidarity. The same society that rallies behind upper-caste victims with righteous fury turns a blind eye to her ( Dalit woman ) agony, reinforcing the brutal message that her life is cheap, her suffering inconsequential. This selective empathy is not just a moral failing and blameworthy, but it is an explicit crime against humanity, a perpetuation of violence by other means. The caste system, therefore, is not just an external structure, it is internalized, ingrained in the subconscious of every individual, influencing decisions and actions in ways both overt and subtle. It is the reason why a Dalit woman’s rape is met with silence while an upper-caste woman’s pain becomes a national outcry. It is the reason why her body is seen as a site of permissible violence, her existence as one that can be erased without consequence.
This is the ugly reality of India, a reality where the law may claim to protect all, but the social order determines who is truly seen as human. Until we confront this reality, until we dismantle the caste system not just in our laws but in our hearts and minds, the suffering of Dalit women will continue to be invisible, their humanity continually denied, and their lives treated as expendable.
Let’s not mince words: the reaction to these two incidents isn’t just a failure of empathy—it’s an endorsement of caste-based violence. The silence surrounding the Bihar rape is not just a passive omission; it’s an active affirmation that Dalit lives do not matter. It’s a declaration that the caste system is still alive and well, upheld by those who benefit from it, those who enforce it, and those who are too cowardly to challenge it.
As conscious Ambedkarite, we must be clear that this isn’t just about gender violence. It’s about caste violence, where the rapist’s identity and the victim’s caste determine the response. The system is rigged to protect the dominant or Savarna castes while dehumanizing Dalits. When a Savarna or dominant-caste man rapes a Dalit woman, society’s reaction lacks thereof is a reflection of the casteist mind-set and casteist society that pervades every corner of Indian life.
Dr. B.R. Ambedkar already warned us about this in his seminal text ‘Annihilation of Caste’. He knew that the caste system was not just a social structure but a mental disease, a poison that corrodes every aspect of Indian life. And this is what we see today, a society where the worth of a woman’s life is measured not by her humanity but by her caste. The mainstream feminist movement in India, often dominated by upper-caste voices, has shown true colours in the wake of these incidents. It claims to fight for women’s rights, but when a Dalit woman is raped and mutilated, it falls silent. This silence is complicity. It is proof that mainstream feminism in India is not equipped or willing to fight for the most marginalized women. It is a movement that, in its failure to address caste, perpetuates the very violence it claims to oppose. This selective outrage reveals the moral bankruptcy of a society that prides itself on modernity and progress. It shows that beneath the veneer of democracy and equality lies a brutal, casteist reality. The silence on the Bihar rape is not just an oversight; it is a deliberate act of erasure, a refusal to acknowledge the humanity of a Dalit woman.
We must reject this. We must reject a society that values some lives over others. We must reject a feminism that refuses to confront the violence of caste. And we must reject a justice system that systematically dehumanizes Dalits. The fight for justice cannot be selective. It cannot ignore the systemic oppression of the most marginalized. It must be a fight against all forms of violence—caste, gender, class—and it must demand justice for every victim, regardless of her caste.To remain silent in the face of such atrocities is to be complicit in them. As Ambedkarite, our fight is not just for gender equality but for the complete annihilation of the caste system that underpins and perpetuates such violence. Until we dismantle this system, until we cure the disease of caste, we will continue to live in a society where Dalit women are seen as less than humans and their sufferings are less than important. This is our call to action: to fight, to resist, and to demand justice not just for the victims of Bengal or Bihar, but for all those who suffer under the weight of caste oppression. The struggle is far from over, and we must not rest until every woman, regardless of her caste, is free from the chains of this cruel, inhuman system. The silence surrounding the Bihar rape is a reminder that our fight must be relentless, our voices unyielding, and our demand for justice uncompromising.
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Vaibhav Kharat, is a graduate in sociology from Fergusson College, Pune, and is currently pursuing MA in Sociology from, the Center for The Study of Social Systems (CSSS ), JNU, New Delhi. He’s active in the Ambedkarite Movement at college and university campuses and has a keen interest in Anti- Caste philosophy, Pragmatism and Feminist Philosophy.
