Jul 10, 2025 15:40 IST
First published on: Jul 10, 2025 at 15:40 IST
Written by Navami Krishnamurthy
When I was in my late teens, I was travelling in an auto-rickshaw and had an encounter that would stay with me for years. At a traffic light, I noticed a man in the neighbouring rickshaw pointing his phone in my direction. At first, I hesitated to trust my instincts, wondering if I was overthinking. However, when my auto driver started shouting at him, it reaffirmed my fear that I was being recorded without my knowledge or consent. This was my first real encounter of this nature, something that I didn’t have the words to describe. The concept of consent in such situations was alien to me back then, and still is to many people.
Now, a decade later, I am older, more aware and always alert in public spaces. However, despite the passage of time, I fear that the concept of consent remains shifty in our social fabric. In fact, with the rise of social media, consent has taken on new and more complex dimensions that we are only just beginning to understand and navigate.
The arrest of a 26-year-old man in Bengaluru for posting inappropriate photos and videos of a woman on social media brought back a rush of memories and emotions that I had buried. It took me back to when I was 15 years old, unsettled and confused, yet quietly grateful to see that a woman had come forward to report something that so many endure in silence. Her courage made me reflect on the concept of consent, how it should be absolute, fundamental and universal. Yet for far too many, it remains negotiable, irrelevant, or worse, “optional”.
Consent is not optional
Does simply walking down Church Street on a quiet Wednesday morning in Bengaluru amount to giving consent? Does being in a public space mean that you consent to being photographed or recorded, with the possibility of such content being circulated online without your knowledge? To me, and I’m sure to many others, the answer is a firm “no”. Being in public does not strip anyone of their right to privacy. It certainly does not justify targeted, inappropriate recording. Consent does not become irrelevant the moment we step outside. It is not a concept that bends to context or convenience and is never “optional”.
While I speak of the discomfort of being photographed without consent, I am also speaking of something much more serious — public safety. When someone captures your image without permission, especially with intent, it often feels like the first step in a larger pattern of objectification and stalking.
Women should have the basic right to simply exist without being surveilled or captured. The right to occupy space without being reduced to content. The fear of being watched or recorded changes how we move through the world, and that fear is not just physical; it is also emotional, psychological and gendered, just like the boundary between private and public spaces.
As women, we are conditioned to be hyper-vigilant, to watch how we dress, avoid eye contact, stay alert and walk away from confrontation. But perhaps it’s time to change the conditioning. Why does the conversation always spin to the legitimacy of non-consensual photography and not the entitlement behind it? Being in public does not mean that women consent. It never did.
The writer is with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy