All That Is Bitter and Sweet_ A Memoir - Ashley Judd [163]
She sang two folks songs for me, complete with poised and well-executed dance moves in the classical tradition. In return for the mesmerizing entertainment she provided, I took out my iPod and played Eva Cassidy’s version of “People Get Ready.”
I was deeply honored by the way people shared their stories with me, with the way they trusted me. Today, that was what floored me, the gratitude and sweetness. And whatever gifts I gave by allowing them to be truly heard returned to me tenfold.
Next morning I did my usual routine of meditating, eating quickly according to my meal plan (protein, starch, fruit, and fat for breakfast), making a five-minute attempt at looking sort of maybe kind of cute if you closed one eye and squinted the other, and surrendering the day and the outcome to a Power greater than myself. I knew I’d need to do that more than once, as I was in brothels again, this time with a woman who was a stranger to me but a beloved star to millions of Indians: Sushmita Sen.
As anyone who follows the movies already knows, India has the biggest, most dynamic film industry in the world, and it’s based in Mumbai, formerly Bombay—hence the name Bollywood. Indians are absolutely crazy for films, and they follow the Bollywood stars in numbers that make Hollywood agents swoon. That is why it can be so useful to recruit actors to lend their social capital to marginalized and despised populations, to dispel myths and stigma through public conversations and the media about a range of vital issues, from medically accurate sex education and HIV to access to education for girls. But Indian society is so conservative that it’s been hard to convince anyone to speak out.
That a person of Sushmita’s stature even deigns to talk about this issue, much less hangs out in a brothel, is shocking in Indian society. We approached her to join the campaign because of her willingness to break with convention in her personal and professional life. She was a single mother with an adopted daughter and had played the role of “immoral” (whatever that means) women in films. Typically, the big stars in the global South do not touch roles that are not virtuous, and I was curious to meet her.
At a Catholic school compound (of course I managed to find a priest with whom to talk for a few minutes), I sat in an austere room with nothing but a chair. A tall, regal woman in a lovely pale blue sari came in and immediately captivated me with her womanly brilliance. She reminded me of Salma right away (although let’s be clear, S.H. is in a league of her own). Even though she had worked until three a.m. the night before, she was focused, clear-eyed, intent, attentive, dazzling. Her wild, dark hair was unbrushed, she wore no makeup, and her only dressed-up detail were long, lilac fingernails. She oozed star: that “It” factor of confidence, poise, carriage … and killer eyebrows!
As we readied for the film crew, she asked me a few questions about my work and shared some of her own story. She is a former Miss Universe who went into modeling and acting. In a maverick move, she chose not to marry and had to fight in the courts to adopt her daughter seven years ago. Her longtime personal assistant had recently died of AIDS. He had been so afraid of the stigma of his disease that he’d told no one, not even her. He might have received treatment and lived a long life, but the shame of AIDS killed him as surely as the disease. It was because of him that Sushmita decided she would campaign to end the stigma and raise awareness that there is help and hope for people living with HIV.
Hope, however, had already run out for the first woman we visited together at the Marwari Chawl brothel in Kamathipura. Geeta