By Andrea Thompson
I might be accused of bias in my appreciation for the remarkable documentary “Writing With Fire,” especially given that Film Girl Film is a Community Partner for it via the Milwaukee Film Festival, where it’s currently streaming.
But I had absolutely no problem enjoying “Writing With Fire” during my first viewing when it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival, and audiences and jurors seemed to agree, with the doc winning both the Audience Award and a Special Jury Award for Impact for Change.
The magnitude of just what directors Sushmit Ghosh and Rintu Thomas accomplish is partly a testament to the power of timing. They began following Khabar Lahariya, the only newspaper in India which is run entirely by women, just as they were shifting to digital, and more chillingly, as nationalism and religious extremism was rising to greater heights.
The pen is mightier than the sword it’s been said, and the power of the written, or for our modern context, the typed word is allowing the female journalists behind Khabar Lahariya to write their way out of a prison imposed on them by gender, tradition, and most suffocatingly, caste. Many, if not all, of the women are Dalits, or untouchables, who are entirely excluded from the caste system in India, and thus barred from participation in many aspects of life. Most have husbands and families who are less than supportive, and pressure them to quit working.
And yet they persist, to use a newish cliche, despite not only this opposition, but the fact that many of them have barely touched a smartphone, have never used email, and a few don’t even have electricity in their homes.
Why they persist in the face of such obstacles isn’t exactly explored, but shown, as many experience a newfound sense of confidence in shaping not only their own destinies, but helping to change the lives of others for the better. And “Writing With Fire” wastes little time answering just what drives them, opening with chief reporter Meera interviewing a traumatized woman who has been repeatedly raped, then confronting police about why they have done virtually nothing to prevent these attacks or punish the perpetrators.
She and her colleagues also confront other powerful entrenched interests, such as mining groups running dangerous and illegal mining operations, and spotlight families who have yet to benefit from promised government reforms. And their efforts make a real difference, with rapists being arrested and charged, electricity and infrastructure being brought to some villages without it, and the women themselves outright refusing to be patronized by not only police and government officials, but male journalists.
Even as the profile of Khabar Lahariya begins to rise, with support, views, and impact increasing, the film also doesn’t-and can’t-ignore the other, more regressive forces that are also growing (partly thanks to populist support and social media), that of nationalist and religious extremists who are not only thriving, but winning elections.
The questions the women routinely ask (and far too many media outlets don’t), such as why these men and their lackeys focus so much on protecting Hinduism rather than education, healthcare, and employment seem extremely prescient now given the horrifically botched response of many of India’s leaders to the COVID crisis (although they’re certainly not alone in that), and Meera and many of her colleagues clearly see journalism as a means to get answers and hold leaders accountable. This documentary might just be a part of that process for them, with the filmmakers being granted access to not just the end results, but the journey, which includes editorial meetings, work retreats, and the home lives of many subjects, where they must often continually justify themselves to husbands and parents.
Needless to say, none of these women are victims, but the directors also ensure that none of them fall into the Strong Female Character trope, with many freely admitting their weariness and even giving in to pressure occasionally and marrying to shield their families from the social consequences of having an unwed daughter.
If “Writing With Fire” leaves out many details, such as just how the paper was founded and the impetus behind it, what it does share is a testament to just what the journey to empowerment looks like, exhausting late nights and all.
