How To Be An Ass On Racial Harmony Day

A passive-aggressive list about my experiences as an Indian in a local Singaporean school.

Drima

Step 1: “Regardless of race, language of religion” must mean that you are entitled to wear the costumes (that hold cultural significance to the wearer) of other races, in particular, of minorities;

Step 2: Make a convenient trip down to Little India a day before your school’s Racial Harmony Day celebration to get a 12-foot piece of cloth you deem to be a sari (not realising that the sari is more than just the cloth, and you are only getting the rudimentary sari material without a border or designs) or alternatively, urge your Indian classmates or teachers to bring saris so you can all wear them on Racial Harmony Day;

Step 3: Insist on wearing the sari because it seems like a risqué outfit, thus sexualising Indian costumes in a culture where those dark-skinned Indian girls aren’t deemed to be as attractive as you;

Step 4: Don’t bother learning how to actually put on a sari, just sushi-wrap it around yourselves: leaving bits straggling behind you, causing the length of the pallu to be uneven or draped barely a few centimetres from your shoulder;

Step 5 (when step 4 fails): Insist that your Indian classmates and teachers help you wear the sari, under the assumption that all Indians are entitled to teach you and must know how to wear the sari, since there could be no reason whatsoever that they were brought up westernised because of racism or anything of that sort, no;

Step 6: Go for your school’s assembly show and giggle endlessly at the Indian performances, just like you do when/if, on certain school days, the national pledge is said in Tamil, which is hilarious, albeit one of the four national languages;

Step 7: During break, make sure you meet up with all your friends: the ones wearing similar “saris” or even a bonus bindi, and take lots of pictures with your hands joined in a Namaste pose, or balancing on one leg in a mockery of yoga positions;

Step 8: See nothing wrong with all of this because Singapore is a racially harmonious country where one does not see or differentiate by race, a concept seemingly only accepted by the majority Chinese, seeing they never have to have their racial roots questioned;

Step 9: Yell racism at whoever questions you on this, because the only racial discrimination you will ever face in Singapore is anyone questioning your authority as a majority; and

Step 10: Watch the desi girls (and sari-wearing desi people of other genders) out-dress and out-perform and thumka lagaike rock your world.


Drima Chuck is a shit-talker who calls out bigotry while rocking a sari (with the help of their mum), and also does not recommend you watch Dostana because it was homophobic as hell.

    Drima

    Written by

    Drima

    sutured together again as something much messier than male or female

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