Day 35: How our love is completely corrupted

“I don’t think I could ever date a rickshaw driver; it’s just…attraction. It just doesn’t happen. Even if I find the guy objectively handsome.”

My girl friend. I want to judge her. In my ideal world, these feelings don’t exist. Love is the purest of all emotions and could never be adulterated by our prejudices. Love is above that.

But I can’t judge; I also suffer from the same in-borne classism. I also have never considered dating someone I’ve met from a completely different class.

The realization first hit me when Abodh Kumar asked me a question: “When you are here in rural Bihar, do you ever get attracted to any of the girls and start to like them?”

In thinking about it, I realized that the answer was an emphatic NO; it’s as if there’s a button for sexuality, romance, and love that simply is shut off automatically whenever I come here.

I made an excuse related to needing to maintain professionalism. And another about the context not being right for it. These are definitely factors, but they aren’t the reason.

Internally, I felt ashamed; what does this say about me and my own internal biases? I’ve claimed to be working for social justice for all these years, and yet, I can’t even look at the people around me as people, who I could potentially love or be attracted to.

I could make other excuses as well — “lifestyle differences,” for example. I’m used to a certain “way of life,” whatever that is, and therefore, I want to marry someone who wants to live similarly. Yet, this argument falls apart when I look at how I actually live; I am perfectly happy and fine living in this environment.

I could also chalk it up to “interests.” I like basketball, which no one here has ever heard of. I like listening to instrumental music without lyrics, which people here almost universally laugh at. I like eating other foods, beyond daal, rice, and aloo (potato) ki sabzi (vegetable).

But, these, too, are excuses. Why? Because if you ask me why I’m in the relationship that I’m curretly in, “common interests” don’t factor in at all. Common values, yes. But interests, no. I think, In general, in relationships, people come to see the beauty in what the other person is passionate about anyway. Or, at the very least, are willing to compromise.

A third excuse: what will my family and friends say? True; this is a real concern, because most of them have also been socialized in the same racist, classist, casteist, prejudice society, so their views probably will have the same discomfort and apprehension — often subtletly expressed as, “I don’t know why, but I just don’t like her; can’t you find someone else?”

What’s the view look like from the other side, from the perspective of the less privileged? Are they attracted or can they be attracted to those who are more privileged than they are?

According to Abodh, yes. But he doubts that any girl who is more privileged than him, particularly one from an urban setting, could or would ever love him. In other words, he’s recognized and accepted that these prejudices exist. And therefore, he’s realized that, practically, it’s highly unlikely that he will marry a girl from a privilegd, urban background.

How do I even repond to that? He’s one of the most creative, energetic, compassionate people I’ve ever met. The kind of guy, who I’d love for any of my friends or family members to be with. And yet, I know it’s true. So what can I say?

Meanwhile, whoever Abodh marries will deteremine what kind of opportunities and access his children will have as well. Why? Because his wife will come with a network of her own, and that network will either enhance or detract from the opportunities available to their children.

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The whole system is a paradox; it’s not fair to expect people to be attracted to those who they aren’t attracted to. And yet, on the other hand, the fact that we are generally only attracted to those who fit within our own boxes perpetuates prejudices and lack of understanding between communities.

The scariest thing, though, is that these prejudices don’t go away easily. One would assume that it’s simply a matter of engagement. Our institutions are set up such that people from different classes rarely get to interact with one another. But it’s taken me four years of living here in rural Bihar to even recognize and admit to myself that these prejudices exist in me, which is the first step to unlearning them.

The films we watch, the stories we here — they completely neglect this point. Love exists as an emotion and experience between two people, separate from societal values and norms. But thats not the case at all. Instead, our society and culture, riddled with its ugliness, is the filter through which we experience love.

I’m realizing this as a white-looking, upper-middle class male from an Ivy League university — about as privileged as you can get. I’m in the position of oppressor, not oppressed — but I’m oppressed by my own oppressiveness. By my own biases. And prejudices.

I’m owning this, because I want it to change. It’s an ugly demon inside of me that’s fundamentally at odds with my supposed values. And I want it to change in me. And I want it to change in the society around me.