Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History

I was tasked with writing a social copy for International Women’s Day at work, and this popular quote/book by Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, “Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History,” caught my attention.

Ulrich’s book examines the lives of three women from different time periods who broke conventional norms to re-create their history for the better. The quote got popular like wildfire, appearing on T-shirts, coffee mugs, and other merchandise, possibly anything that appeals to women. Cool isn’t?

Some days, SOMEtimes, I get to daydream at work, and whole women’s day research got me reminiscing about Velyamma’s story (velayamma = elder mother, my mother’s elder sister). So, this blog is not about Ulrich’s book, but an account of how Velyamma went on a hunger strike to attend college!

We are used to hearing and sharing memes of our parents’ childhood getting-to-school adventure stories of walking a thousand miles, clinging to the tops of buses, trekking deep forests, and battling crocodiles. While those are undoubtedly impressive, the most interesting kind I heard, and believe, is my aunt’s struggle when it was her time to seek higher education.

Story time!

It was some 60 years ago in the island village of Perumbalam (look it up, it’s a beauty). Nediyaparambil girls were not allowed to travel out of the island alone. Velyamma qualified for the pre-degree course, meaning she’ll have to travel 4 hours or more every day to get to college.

Back then, the island did not have the present-day boat transport facilities. So, the daily commute to college involved walking 30-35 minutes to vallakadav (boat station), crossing the Vembanad lake on a wooden boat (which took more than one hour), keeping up with the strict Poothotta-Ernakulam bus schedules, and adding up everything, it took roughly 4 hours to reach her destination. The only viable option is to stay in a hostel.

Sending girls to a hostel was out of the question. The main decision-maker of the family, my great-grandfather, was dead against it. Old (or odd, really) family customs encouraged every elder (grandfather, uncles, aunts, apparently any blood relative) to decide what was best for their children, even if it wasn’t. Even her father, my grandfather, who happened to be the first man from Perumbalam to attend college—someone well-read, someone who worked in a court at the time—couldn’t vouch for her.

This was the 60s. Family traditions, an overly protective household, and patriarchy loomed, but my Velyamma prevailed. She took the Gandhian path of hunger strike and non-cooperation! Days of refusing to obey any elder, be it a serious or silly matter, she annoyed the elders out of their wits. But it was probably the hunger strike that got the wheels turning, and boy, how satisfying it must be.

Yes, financial strains must have also been a reason. Sending nine kids for higher education isn’t economical, but my grandfather and uncles put almost every child through college. After college, she made it big in Bombay (or Mumbai) as a telecommunications professional. Somewhere around the 2000s, when we visited her family, I remember watching her commute to work, in her own company car with a driver! I wonder what my great grandfather would have said 😊

Vanaja Velyamma made history by breaking the commonly accepted good-girl behavior and her strong stance on education changed her own and her four young sisters’ life trajectories.

P.S. Vembanad lake is not the villain in this true story.

       Thanks amma for all the deets!