BackGirls, boys and a database
Data isn't just about bald numbers. Behind every piece of data, there's a story. Sometimes two
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Data is magic. Data is powerful. Data can change lives. I am the executive director of the Latika Roy Foundation in Dehradun. We work with children who have developmental disabilities. Last week, one of our major funders asked us for data from across the foundation, segregated by project and gender. Simply: How many girls and how many boys had accessed services at Chhota Gubbara, Gubbara, the Early Intervention Centre, and Karuna Vihar?
What we found was stunning.
At Chhota Gubbara, which caters to tiny newborns, we had 101 babies—55 were boys and 46 were girls. Considering that the sex ratio at birth in Uttarakhand is skewed in favour of boys, our figures indicate that parents are almost exactly as likely to seek help for their newborn girls as for their newborn boys. Statistically, in fact, the difference is insignificant.
At Gubbara, which provides a two-day assessment for children with developmental disabilities from 0-8, we had a total of 1,197 children attending—796 were boys and 401 were girls. Do the math. Nearly twice as many boys as girls were brought in for the two-day programme.
At our Early Intervention Centre, an intensive programme for children from 0-6 which demands parent attendance on a daily basis, the disparity was a bit starker: 49 boys to 23 girls. Of parents willing to make that long-term, daily commitment, more than half were the parents of boys.
But it was at Karuna Vihar, where children range in age from 7-14, that the real story emerged: Of 105 children, 80 were boys; 25 were girls. More than three times as many boys as girls.
What does that mean? It’s pretty simple: By the age of 7, a girl with disability is three times as likely as a boy to have her parents give up on her.
Because she’s not worth the effort. She’s not important. She’s just not precious enough to bother about.
Well, that’s one way to analyse the data. It turns out, though, that things are a bit more complex. Data isn’t just about bald numbers, it’s not all black and white, and it’s not all good and evil. Behind every piece of data, there’s a story. Sometimes two.
It is well-known that in most states in India, more boys are born or survive than girls. In Uttarakhand, where this data was gathered, the gender ratio at birth is a chilling 886 girls to 1,000 boys. That’s one bit of the story. The data in our centres illustrates yet another reality: Developmental disability affects boys far more frequently than girls. Many X-chromosome genes are linked to intellectual disabilities, for example. Boys, having only one X-chromosome, are therefore more susceptible if the one they have is altered; girls—who are born with two X-chromosomes—are protected by genetics. It is extremely rare for both Xs to be affected.
So the higher numbers of boys to girls in most of our centres can be partly explained by these two factors: More boys are born than girls; more boys have developmental disabilities than girls.
But they still don’t explain everything. Research also indicates that around the world, not only in cultures where boys are prized over girls, parents are quicker to act if a son has any difficulty. Some researchers theorize that families may also be more accepting of girls who speak late or are less active because “that’s how girls should be". So parents are more likely to seek help for boys; we may never even know how many girls out there need our help.
But data is powerful. It’s not just descriptive of a situation that we don’t like. It also offers a prescription for how to change it.
Remember the information from Chhota Gubbara, our project for tiny newborns. They are at high risk of a disability because of low birth weight, prematurity, trauma at delivery or a disabling condition at birth. And according to our data, parents are as likely to seek help for their newborn girls as for their newborn boys. If they are instructed to do so.
That’s important to remember. Parents who bring their children to Chhota Gubbara have been told to do so. It’s part of the discharge protocol at the neonatal intensive care unit and it’s based on a series of objective parameters which have everything to do with the child’s condition and nothing to do with the child’s gender.
And parents respond. At that point—that magical, wonderful point when their baby is still just a baby and full of potential and promise—parents respond to an authoritative voice which tells them their child needs extra care. At that point, it doesn’t seem to matter whether it’s a girl or a boy.
So that tells us we need to work doubly hard for little girls once we get them. We need to be their champions and to make their continued care our highest priority. We need to factor in the other voices, just as authoritative, parents are hearing when we counsel them. We need to anticipate their tendency to drop out and to up the pressure on them to stay the course. We need to think of every possible creative way to keep these girls enrolled and attending.
When they are born, their parents are ready to do anything for them. That’s what parents do. As the girls get a little older—just a little older—the voices of patriarchy and male supremacy get louder, drowning out the good, strong, perfect love of the ordinary parent.
Our voices need to be what they hear then. We have to speak with conviction, authority, promise. We need to drown out the voices of despair and rejection with our voices of courage and hope. We need to support these parents to do what they know all along is right.
Because at the beginning, when those little girls first arrive, their parents think they are just as precious as their brothers. We have the data to prove it.
Jo Chopra is the executive director of the Latika Roy Foundation in Dehradun. A version of this appeared on the foundation’s website.
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