Misogyny and Sisterhood: ‘The Bandit Queens’ by Parini Shroff Review
The unfortunate status quo is that it is tough for women everywhere, and female friendships are what will carry us through the darkness and absurdity of life. Such connections, however, are not always easily forged in a world keen to divide, mark, and label as “other.” — Parini Shroff, in the Authors Note of her debut novel, “The Bandit Queens.”
Five years ago, Geeta’s abusive husband mysteriously disappeared, and the gossip in their small town is that she murdered him. Geeta was ostracized, but she never bothered to quell the gossip because she had grown to love the solitude. People left her alone. And she had more money than most of her neighbors. Without her husband using all their money to buy alcohol, she can now save up, bit by bit, to hopefully buy a refrigerator. Everything is well and good. That is until a neighbor approaches Geeta and asks her to help kill the neighbor’s husband.
At its core, The Bandit Queens is a book about the power and the necessity of female friendships. And the sad reality of how hard it is for women to find and lean on each other because of the patriarchal system and our own internalized misogyny.
This book is both funny and heartbreaking, which I am very fond of. Some might find that disrespectful or making light of serious things, but I’d argue that mixing humor in the concoction makes the horrid more bearable (for the characters) and impactful (to us readers).
I finished this in April, so I don’t recall many things superbly. However, one thing that struck me upon reading, and I still remember today, is the passage about sanitary napkins: “Geeta prevaricated. She didn’t purchase pads; no one from their village did; they were prohibitively exorbitant. Even Geeta, who had few other expenses, couldn’t reconcile paying six rupees per napkin.” Before switching to menstrual cups, I would find the cheapest ones — Sisters and later Charmee — because I can’t afford to bleed into three or so packs of 50–100PhP/pack sanitary napkins per month. That passage made me think about women in my own country who perhaps cannot spare 25PhP to buy the cheapest pack of napkins. And it just breaks my heart, the humiliation and injustice of not having access to those necessities.
This book also reinforced my belief that misandry is not the opposite of misogyny. Misandry is hatred of men. And it hurts very few men, compared to the damage done by its supposed counterpart. Misogyny is a systemic oppression that affects different aspects of our lives, and sometimes, we’re not even aware of it.
Content warnings for domestic violence. But if you enjoy reading about flawed characters, female friendships, and the murder of a bunch of men in a comedic spin, I highly recommend this book!
Follow me on Instagram!
