Discrimination: The half-yes & its exhaustion
Drawing parallels between discrimination in America and India & why where we are isn’t enough
Watching the protests and police brutality surrounding #blacklivesmatter in America unfold this week, I am reminded of January in India when the police brutally came down on the protestors marching for the injustice towards Muslims. As an Indian who has also lived in America, I’m trying to make sense of who I am in this context and how I show up, engage and support during these moments.
This takes me back to junior year in college, when I had enrolled in a class titled Religion, Social Justice and Urban Development. I was the only Indian student in a class (at UPenn with a large Indian student population) where the Indian caste system was going to be a key case study.
One sunny Saturday afternoon, the professor gathered us to speak with some guests. They were ex-Hindu-lower-caste families who had left India and settled in greater Philly area, in the hopes of building a life without discrimination. I walked into that day’s class with the belief that caste based discrimination and casteism was “a thing of the past.” I walked out of the room having heard harsh realities of a Hindu India in the 2000s. I had enrolled in the class just to fulfill a humanities requirement and now found myself battling difficult thoughts of having being complicit in a system that enabled discrimination. An internal tsunami was coming my way.
That week, to battle the difficult thoughts, I came up with many justifications — everything from “well, maybe it’s not ‘a thing of the past’ fully yet, but there has been so much change and progress,” to “it only happens once in a while” to “I — a product of the new, educated generation — don’t believe in casteism. I don’t discriminate and that is enough.” Feeling fulfilled with my justifications, I brought them along to the next class and shared them with the guests who had joined us again. I was met with an exhausted, half-yes. It left me feeling dismissed, unsatisfied and confused. A few weeks later, the tsunami stopped roaring and I went back to my everyday.
Years later, I sit in living rooms full of relatives, bringing voice to injustices towards women (because this is the inequity I feel most often). It is often met with the same justification of change and progress that I had provided to my class guests. Often, all I can give back is an exhausted, half-yes.
Today, I look back to the half-yes I had received in that class and now understand my dissatisfaction and confusion. I had wanted them to take my justification and accept it with a thank you. I had wanted them to help me escape the guilt of my privilege. I had wanted them to say to me, “it’s ok, you’re different.” I hadn’t wanted to do the work of understanding all the systemic & indirect ways in which I had gained from being — well, practically white, in India.
So, how do I show up, learn, engage and support?
Keep my internal tsunami alive
Those conversations in the living rooms are hard because we use progress as justification — the mere mention of “but it is changing…,” leads us to socially acceptable racist attitudes. It is important to acknowledge and appreciate the change led by the hard work of activists thus far and to say “where we are today is not enough. How can we continue this change?” If we don’t ask this question, we halt our internal tsunami. It brings us to America this week, and India in January.
Alleviate the exhaustion of the half-yes by speaking with the relevant groups — often, and at the relevant time
For years, we have put the onus of leading change on those directly affected. How many times have I gone to a room full of women for a gender equity summit? Countless. But it’s men who need to be there. We need to speak to the injustices beyond the ones that directly affect us.
- Right now, it’s about anti-black racism and #blacklivesmatter. Right now, our black communities are beyond exhausted. Talk about change with your non-black communities. This thread by Fearless Futures provides a starting point for workplaces.
Continue reflecting on who I am in the current context
and what that means with regards to the privilege I carry. For me, this has begun with looking back my nineteen year old self, and understanding a bit more of what happened in that classroom. Here’s my answer:
I am an upper-middle-class, upper-caste, straight, Hindi-speaking North Indian Hindu female. I check off almost all the majority boxes. In India, I’m practically white. In America, I am a non-black person of color. These identities have afforded me the privilege to be passive or absent in equity-related conversations that don’t directly affect me. It is no surprise that I was the only Indian student in a class focused on the Indian caste system (and I was there by chance). In America, South Asians like me are equally responsible for the discrimination against black and other POC groups, even though we are only able to thrive because of black and other POC activists fighting oppression.
When have you been on either side of the exhausted half-yes?
PS: The class I speak of in this issue is the only one I truly remember my time in university. Thank you, to Dr. Lamas for creating the space, and for our class guests, for once again taking on the onus of leading change and teaching me.
This post is an excerpt from Unconforming: a newsletter about Design for Women. Unconforming goes out every two weeks and also shares learnings from experts, job and other opportunities, examples and articles — all to make an impact in the women’s space. Sign up here to get it in your inbox!
