The “Victim” Pass and the “Agency” Promotion: Who Gets to Be Heard?
- CGAP South Asia
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
In theory and in conversations about marginalisation and justice, the archetype of the “victim” is often implied to be quite straightforward: a victim is an individual who has experienced some form of harm and seeks remedy. However, in practice, victimhood is anything but straightforward. In reality, victimhood is consistently evaluated and contested.
When social life is deeply structured by intersections of caste, gender, religion, class and every other possible identity to exist, the recognition of victimhood does not rely on the “occurrence/experience” of harm itself, but on who the affected individual is, and how their experience goes hand in hand with dominant expectations of what an “ideal” victim should be.
Essentially, for one to be recognised as a victim, it has become pertinent that they adhere to an implicit criterion, or what can be called the “victim pass”. This criterion is, more often than not, never formally enshrined or codified, but it potentially operates across legal systems, media narratives, and public (as well as private) discourse. Expectations of acknowledgeable innocence, honour and conformity to gender roles are some of the more apparent forms of this criterion, but latent and ambiguous aspects of it operate under murky waters. They include expectations of innocence, respectability, and conformity to gendered norms. For instance, certain individuals who are overtly “respectable” (usually by virtue of their caste, clothing, sexuality, or similar factors) are more likely to receive sympathy and validation. However, those who do not fit these norms may find their experiences invalidated or minimised.
Often when survivors from marginalised backgrounds express their traumas, they excessively face scepticism or indifference and this is even more apparent when their experiences are not in line with dominant narratives or expectations of femininity. In cases of gender-based violence (GBV) in South Asia, this skewed distribution of acceptance is even more drastically apparent. Public reactions are often based on whether a survivor can be validated as an “ideal victim”, a postulation that reflects broader social hierarchies. Queer and trans individuals may further struggle to have their experiences acknowledged within a system that is structured around binary interpretations of gender. The “victim pass,” thus, is not a merit of suffering; it is about legibility. Presenting pain in not just recognisable ways, but ways in which it is tolerable to institutions of power, becomes an indispensable prerequisite. In this sense, victimhood is not only experienced but also performed, often under duress that limits how one can speak about harm.
Paradoxically, for victimhood to be established, a certain level of agency must be displayed. Although this “agency” must adhere to sanctioned ways established by dominant narratives. Thus, “agency promotion” comes into play here, where one is encouraged to reclaim power in a way that does not inconvenience institutions of power. Often, this reclamation of power or an “empowered survivor” is celebrated by the state and media when they embody resistance without upsetting existing societal norms. Expressions of anger against the system, demands to dismantle existing systems and structures or indignation towards respectability politics can lead to withdrawal of sympathy and support.
This tautness between victimhood and agency is indicative of a malicious broader dynamic latent within systems of power. On one hand, individuals are left to compulsorily demonstrate vulnerability to gain recognition itself, but on the other, they must also exhibit strength to be deemed deserving of justice or dignity. Balancing this arduous dual expectation can become increasingly challenging for those situated at intersections of a myriad of marginalisations. In the case of a Dalit woman, in the circumstances where one claims agency, it may be perceived as defiant even “aggressive, outside of gendered contexts as well (in terms of caste hierarchies). Thus, her struggles are not simply under-recognised, but her resistance is perceived as undue or unlicensed (in the context of earning the victim pass too).
State institutions, media, and civil society are complicit in influencing these dynamics. Legal frameworks, for instance, in South Asia, although they have made significant strides in recognising GBV, their implementation is far from paralleling those strides. This alludes to broader social biases like the burden of proof falling upon the shoulders of survivors, who must navigate the tightrope of the occurrence of harm and their own credibility. Media coverage, meanwhile, resorts to amplifying and sensationalising certain ( dominant, favoured) narratives while ignoring others, thus upholding existing barriers and hierarchies of visibility where some cases receive consistent attention, and others remain invisible.
However, social movements constantly confront these challenges by highlighting such hierarchies and expanding the boundaries of who can be recognised as a victim and the possibility of varied forms of agency. Intersectionality, a concept which explains that systems of power can never be understood as isolated phenomena, but rather as interconnected variables that affect each other intensely, is the basis of most feminist and marginalised movements in South Asia. Spearheading the experiences of those who are marginalised by society helps these movements to push for more inclusive understandings of oppression and justice instead of definitions built upon exclusive and feeble implications of respectability.
It is imperative to process the “victim pass” and “agency promotion” as interconnected operatives rather than bureaucratic promotions. This enables a nuanced analysis of power by highlighting that the goal of social movements is not only to ensure that recognition and empowerment are not simply granted, but to understand these terms as mediated through social norms and institutional practices. The idea of centering marginalised voices in non-conforming ways to challenge restrictive expectations, for one, is an example of just one of the tangents that are unearthed. Analyses like this question assumptions about gender, respectability, and legitimacy. It also asks how spaces can be created where diverse experiences of harm and resistance can exist, be understood, and thrive while being acknowledged on their own terms.
Ultimately, this issue cannot be boiled down into debates of who gets to speak, but rather the conditions that birth obstructions barring if and how speech is heard, validated, and acted upon.
Thus, it becomes crucial that we recognise the structural dynamics that frame and sculpt victimhood and agency, so it can eventually lead to building more equitable systems of justice without unfair and unattainable standards for one to earn the right to even merely be seen, but instead promise it as inherent for anyone.
Author:
Swathy S is a Bengaluru-based researcher and tactical analyst with academic training in International Relations from the United Kingdom and Political Science from Japan. Her work focuses on feminist and post-colonial theory, marginalisation and gender intersections, and the dynamics of power, resistance, and justice in South Asia. She is particularly interested in how marginalised communities navigate structural violence and assert agency within constrained institutional and political frameworks. Her research is situated at the intersection of sociology, gender studies, and political theory, and she is open to collaborating on research projects in these areas.
This article is published under CGAP Blogs. Our blog is a space for practitioners, researchers, policymakers, & advocates to share perspectives on gender and politics across South Asia in a language that is accessible, grounded, and worth reading.
Read our previous publications, here.
Comments