Last Updated on 12/01/2024 by Nilofer Khan
“For as long as I remember, art has been my anchor,” says South Asian photographer Sujata Setia as she recounts her journey as an artist. Setia, who began photography “by chance” in late 2013, turned to the medium to “find her inner balance” amid a challenging period in her life. Back then, little did she know that her artistic journey would help open a much-needed discourse over the uncomfortable reality of our society: domestic abuse. “I’d say, I have been preparing for this series from the time I was in my mother’s womb,” Setia tells The Phoblographer in an exclusive interview. “It is there that I started witnessing violence for the very first time.”
The images are by Sujata Setia; used with permission. The accompanying captions are testimonies of the survivors. For more information, visit Setia’s website or her Instagram @sujatasetia.
Seeing the Unseen
The year was 2022 when Sujata Setia was working on a series titled Changing the Conversation, a series about photographing people with visible differences. During one such shoot with a woman of Indian descent in the UK, Setia learned that her sitter was a survivor of domestic abuse. “We had a very disturbing, however, real conversation about how her perpetrators existed within ‘home,” Setia states. Home—the now-UK-based photographer describes—is not a physical space but energies and consciousness. However, the shocking reality is that a place that must embody comfort becomes the most dangerous place for women. The conversation also highlighted how domestic violence begins with “human and societal conditioning,” where feelings such as love, care, and belonging are used to exert control over an individual. “It is a very complex reality. Of being a woman. Also, of being a south asian woman. I started to find in me this urgent need to engage with this complex yet very subtle reality,” Setia adds.
“My parents brought me up with a lot of love. I finished my studies, and then I became a school teacher. Someone brought a wedding proposal, and the family liked me. The boy came. When I saw him, I started to cry because he was much older than me. He was 22 years older. But my family told me ‘Its ok. You will have a lavish life. If he is older, then he will obviously love and respect you.’
We got married, and I came here to the UK. For a year, he kept me well, and then I gave birth to twins. So once the kids were born, my mother-in-law started to taunt me, and a lot of fights started to happen. It was like they wanted children and that I gave birth to, so my job was done.
I remember the words ‘The machine to produce children has arrive now make as many as you can.’
They kept my and the kids’ passports with them. I was scared. They would not allow me to feed my milk to my own children. They would snatch the kids from my arms.
In a few years, he filed for divorce. He tried to get full custody of the children because his family knew that if the kids came to me even for a few days, then he would have to pay me some allowance.
He threatened my kids that if they say that they want to stay with their mother, then their father would make sure to never let them see me.
So the children said in court that they wanted to stay with their father. He finally got the custody of the children.
Since then, I get to see my children twice a week for a few hours each.”
In the literal act of making cuts and thus destroying the prints, I also embodied the persona of the perpetrator. That helped me understand the perpetrator’s obsession with violence and destruction. There is rhythm in violence. A form of meditation, even.
Sujata Setia
The series, which won the Sony World Photography Award, was created in collaboration with Shewise UK, a charity dedicated to helping domestic violence survivors attain financial independence and overcome their traumas in order to start a new chapter in their lives. For Sujata Setia, three women—Sayeeda Ashraf, Salma Ullah, and Saima Khan—became instrumental in establishing the ongoing dialogue for her series, A Thousand Cuts. “The survivors who have very generously agreed to participate in this project are each experiencing differing stages of trauma, so it was important for me to ensure that our engagement doesn’t leave their wounds bleeding,” she adds.
“Let me tell you that I was a star before marriage. I earned a degree in finance, and in my family, no woman had this degree ever. I had a job. I was the youngest daughter, so I was the envy of my brothers and other siblings.
When I got married, within 15 days, I realized this marriage was really wrong for me. But when I was getting married, my sister told me, ‘If anything wrong happens to you… please don’t tell anyone. Because I am fixing your marriage. So just let me know, don’t tell anyone else.’ So I kept quiet and I thought maybe marriages are like that because I have seen men back home are quite strict. So I kept quiet.
He started threatening me that if I say anything to anyone I will be deported from the country. And back home, I have an aging father… he asked me to think about all of that.
He used to give me some money but he would keep counting.
Then, I gave birth to my daughter. It was a difficult delivery. No one came to the hospital, and when I got home, my husband mistreated me. Around 2014, he stopped me from using the phone. I wanted to take pills so I could not get pregnant again, but he stopped me. He would physically and verbally abuse me. He would lock me in the room slap me, and hit me with a towel.
He would treat me like… back home, you know, a goat. Who always gave birth to 8-9 children and eat food. and that’s it.’
My children suffered a lot of emotional abuse, too. I’ve been through all forms of abuse – emotional, verbal, physical, and sexual. You name it.”
Art For Change
A Thousand Cuts, as a series, works on multiple levels. The first is the portraits of the survivors, which were captured in a studio, and with sepia tones. Setia states an indoor setting was helpful to avoid prying eyes, while the colors showcase a connection with their past, representing “a story of abuse from the archive of their lives.” In fact, the theme of these shoots was celebration, which highlights the duality of the occasion of South Asian marriages. “The occasion of celebration underscores the woman’s lack of agency. at the same time, the photo session was also about celebrating her in the way she chooses to be celebrated. So it was a kind of reclamation of her power as well,” she explains.
“I am not able to understand anything. Nothing. I am not even getting any dreams. I don’t feel like doing anything. I don’t feel like doing anything. I am not feeling like doing anything. I am not feeling angry with anyone. I am not able to understand what is happening. I am not able to understand what to do and what not to do. I am neither feeling sad nor happy; I just keep living like this. I am not able to understand anything right now. I am not able to understand anything. I am saying the same thing, I am not able to think of anything. The doctor has given me medicine. I am not able to feel like doing anything. I am not able to understand anything. I am saying this again and again.”
The second is the deeper meaning behind the imagery created with the cuts. For example, barbed wire transforms into birds in one portrait, while in another, wings appear on the back of a different sitter. These designs may hold different meanings for different people, thus continuing the conversation not only about the survivors but also about the broader issue as a whole. In a way, the photographs form a meaningful dialogue between the sitters and the audience, allowing survivors on both sides, to be seen, understood, and supported.
“I have a very good childhood. And my father was very hardworking. He earns for us, and he gave us the gift no one can give me, like that education. I am a master from Pakistan. And I was very sheltered. I was not like, I have to go out and work. So it was all my in head that one day I will be married, and I’ll find my prince and all that.
Yeah, boy was treated as an investment? That they will look after them in their old ages because daughter has to leave one day. So that was all in my thinking and it was all in my mother head because she don’t know anything about other than this box and I was also don’t know.
So the marriage to this man happened after I see him once in the presence of everyone. He was Danish national living in England.
But after reaching here he start changing he like keep distancing from me. His mother was verbally abusive. He was also verbally abusive. I couldn’t understand because I’m very new to England. And I thought maybe people are like this. But the planning behind the marriage was to run his brother’s food business. So it just came to me one night when I just refused to work without payment. So he beat me harshly. And he said, he just brought me here to run his brother’s business. So it was a fraud marriage.
It took me five months to leave this marriage. because that day, my ex-husband went to deliver rice or something to his brother’s shop, and he forgot in a rush to close the door, and I found that the door opened, and I ran away.”
Setia tells us that the series had a very different beginning, where portraits and poetry came together to highlight their stories. “I was wielding power. I needed course corrections,” she explains. And so, she returned to the work and “listened” to the survivors’ testimonies. “In their own words, each one of them said to me: ‘I am torn to pieces from inside,'” Setia explains, which sparked an epiphany for the project.
“I didn’t believe until now that it is my story, too, even though I started to witness the violence from inside her womb.
The only vivid childhood memories that I have are of watching her being dragged by her hair around the house in front of my cousins. I remember hiding behind the door and witnessing all of it. Or was I standing in the room? I am not so sure. Where were my brothers at that time? I cannot recollect. I think I was three years old. That year somehow stays with me. That was also the year I remember sleeping in my parents’ bed alone. It was afternoon. I wasn’t in my nappies… no. I think by that time, I had just grown out of my nappies. My cousin. I remember him on me… no one else was there in the room.
She wasn’t allowed to do anything except for bringing us up the way he wanted us to be brought up. She would cook and clean. He had two sisters, each of whose one son lived with us. They would boss her around as well and enjoy watching her being beaten up.
Many nights, he would return in the early hours of the morning drunk. I remember his head inside the toilet seat. His body hanging like a wet cloth, loosely attached to the scruff of his neck.
I am 41 now, and I still carry the trauma of my childhood like an invisible limb. My mother has died. Her perpetrators remain alive. Not just the man. Neither all those men or women. Abuse exists within our culture, our genetic predisposition… the gendered narratives that are fed to us.”
Ultimately it was imperative for me to turn the narrative around in my own head first by reminding myself that an act of removing is in essence also an act of adding. By removing their identities, a new, more nuanced identity is revealed. Also, it was important to respect their circumstances, whether past, present or those of a plausible future.
Sujata Setia
Thus, she took inspiration from Lingchi, which translates to “death by a thousand cuts,” a form of torture in China in the 10th century, and Sanjhi Art, a South Asian art of paper cutting. “Historically, Sanjhi was created by the Hindu god Krishna’s female consorts to attract his attention, showcasing an inherent power imbalance between genders,” Setia explains. “I wanted to create these contemplations of not just abusive lived experiences but also an inquiry into culture. Another reason was that, as a survivor myself, I wanted to understand what was in it for the perpetrator.”
The cuts and the images were created in collaboration with the survivors, some of whom further wanted to erase their identities. While Setia channeled her own experiences and helplessness to create the work, today, she looks at the work differently. “Experiences of abuse are a part of their life,” she explains. “It is not all of their life.”
“Once, during our fights related to him keeping control of all my money, he started speaking badly about my mother and my upbringing, so I started recording everything he was saying on my phone. I decided I will send the recording to my family. I went with my phone to my room. He came to the room, snatched my phone, held my neck tightly, and said ‘Women like you are worth killing. Let me see who will save you today.’
I pushed him and ran towards the door.
He ran after me and said, ‘No one will protect you.’
I was so lost in that moment. I couldn’t even fathom where the elevator was.
I was crying so loudly. Like one cries when someone has died.
Just beneath our apartment there was a cash and carry shop. I barged into it. I begged the owner of the shop to help me call my family back in my country. He hid me in the store and said he will come after attending the customers.
I wasn’t able to breathe.
That man helped me call my mother. My mother asked me to call the police.
That shop owner helped me call the police.
Police came. They saw the marks around my neck and arrested him.
Meanwhile, back home, his family went over to my parents’ home.
When my father got to know of what I had done… he harassed my mother and hit her.
My mother said to me, ‘What is happening to me… let it happen. Don’t take it on your soul. You protect your life. I wasn’t able to help you earlier, but I cannot let you die like this. Don’t return to that man, for my sake.'”
Gender-based violence is a significant concern for women around the world. About 736 million women, one in three women, or 30% of women around the world, have faced physical or sexual abuse from intimate partners or someone close to them at least once in their lifetime. Furthermore, 38% of all murders of women are committed by intimate partners, while less than 40% of the survivors reach out for help. Given the dire circumstances, it becomes increasingly crucial to have more conversations about violence against women, and Setia’s work can be a nudge in the right direction. “As an artist, I am acutely aware of the fact that just one photo series will not undo over 5,000 years of intellectual oppression. Women’s voices have for generations been shrouded under a veil of modesty, and one cannot remove that veil overnight, nor did I expect that from my sitters,” Setia states. However, she believes “continued dialogues” can hopefully lead to change.
“I was 21. Everyone was pressurising me to marry and I kept rejecting offers and it bothered everyone. So I just said yes. I was too much into my studies so I couldn’t be bothered.
Within a month or two of our marriage he started forcing me to have a kid, It became too much. So I asked him if I could study further because that was my plan. Suddenly, it looked like everyone in his family froze. They started complaining about the fee and how they couldn’t afford to pay it. So I decided to do a job, but they refused to do that as well. ‘Not possible they said. What will people say that we got an educated daughter-in-law because we want to make her work?’ I started learning to drive. But my husband discouraged and ridiculed me by saying, ‘at least clear the theory. I don’t think you are capable of that as well.’ I am not going to lie; he had completely shattered my confidence. I felt like I was capable of doing nothing. I was not allowed to make any friends. If someone came home also and I tried talking to someone, I would be told later not to contact anyone. I was not allowed to go out anywhere. I once wore clothes of my choice, so I was immediately asked to change them on the pretext that ‘what will people say? To the. Kind of clothes you are wearing.’ It were such little and petty things… the minutiae of everyday life … the control. That is what I used to say to myself: ‘I am overthinking.’ Also, when you have not grown up witnessing such coercion, then you don’t even recognize the red flags.”
AUTHENTICITY STATEMENT
The Phoblographer works with human photographers to verify that they’ve actually created their work through shoots. These are done by providing us assets such as BTS captures, screenshots of post-production, extra photos from the shoot, etc. We do this to help our readers realize that this is authentically human work. Here’s what this photographer provided for us.
