Apathy in Indian American community to happenings in Ferguson.
By Malini Sekhar
WASHINGTON, DC: In these past weeks and months and years, the issue of race around the U.S. has been akin to a growing number of elephants walking onto a busy freeway. Everyone can see those pachyderms. No one wants to hit them, but we would rather avoid them and get to where we want to go, than stop and address the increasing number of elephants casually strolling onto the interstate.
I get it. Nobody has time for that. Also, if you have been in a car or driven in India, a few elephants alone are nothing when you throw adults, kids, five hundred other flying vehicles, and a few chickens into the mix.
But one of the elephants is sitting on my lap right now. To me, it doesn’t matter if it’s an African or Indian or Asian elephant. Elephants are heavy and can crush even my not-so-delicate frame.
So, from under the rear of this elephant, let me try and express why I think we ought to bring more awareness to this topic of race for the sake of our community, our kids and beyond.
Funny enough, the first time I was aware I had dark skin was actually when I went to India. I think some of my relatives thought I should be “lighter,” or perhaps Caucasian because I was born in the U.S. They were heartbroken when my sister eventually turned brown like me. A good tan is not appreciated everywhere.
I can’t forget when my African-American buddy from elementary school told me I was the n-word like her, while walking home from school one day. She told me the n-word meant any persons that were oppressed. Therefore, according to her and me (after her revelation), I should be much more invested in understanding the legacy of the oppressed everywhere.
But despite my Indian cultural immersion at home, I didn’t quite get that I was not black or white until my sophomore year of high school. Until my high school tennis coach thought my mom was illiterate because she had an Indian accent.
For some reason, I thought further “North,” like New England was free of racial tensions. But I started to think twice when the local citizens of the small town I attended for college were playing tennis on our courts, and pretended I didn’t exist as I asked quite loudly multiple times to unlock the tennis court gates so I could play on the courts my tuition helped pay for. I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, but it’s hard not to think something else was at play when they spoke to my white hitting partner, but ignored me completely. Unless of course, I do indeed possess superhero-esque invisibility powers. It’s possible.
Meanwhile, my lack of fair and loveliness really didn’t help my marriage-ability quotient amongst the Indian community in the U.S. I was definitely Tier 2 or 3 at best on the light skin = blindingly beautiful meter, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the words dowry (read: bribery) were thrown around. That was a joke mom and dad.
When 9/11 struck us all, I was devastated and heartbroken. Yet, I didn’t realize that folks in the DC Metro would start eyeing me with suspicion because of my brown. Or my parents would scramble to buy dozens of American flags from 7-11 to put in our yard at home, despite being fairly proud American citizens. We are originally from India by the way.
Now my little son is innocently but STILL confused as the other “Indian” boy in his preschool. They are both actually American by the way.
All this to say, this issue of color, race and discrimination is not just black and white -it’s brown and yellow and everything in between.
I see what has been happening in Ferguson, Missouri, and Florida and the other similar racial profiling incidents around the country. There is an elephant in our space but I feel a relative silence and apathy in our Indian and Indian-American community. There was a great piece by Deep Iyer in the Nation about why all communities of color should be part of this dialogue, but that’s all I’ve seen. Of course, it could also be because there is an elephant sitting on my face.
Is the quiet because it doesn’t affect us, because we are a different type of minority who is doing okay for the moment? Is it because Michael Brown and kids like him, somehow deserved what they received? Is it a class issue that we don’t want to associate ourselves with? I’m seriously asking.
It could be my own context or my naivete, but how can we expect others to stand together with us when something discriminatory happens in our community, when we are not willing to stand for them? It may not seem that extreme, but I can’t help but recall that famous poem relating to the Nazis rise of power written by German pastor Martin Niemöller:
“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
I’ve met enough exceptions to most of the negative and positive racial stereotypes out there. For example, here’s a brutal confession – I am not as good at math as many other Indians. Gasp. I know, sometimes I think I may have been adopted.
I’ve had a growing number of experiences where I can relate in some way to what we call “white privilege,” as well as an individual considered on the opposite end of the spectrum. My take away from this, is that we ALL have a responsibility for ourselves, and future generations to have some hard conversations about issues around race and inequality that we talk about having, but never do. We have a responsibility to express the messed-up-ness of what is occurring in places like Ferguson, and things like it happening more than it should EVEN when it may not directly affect us.
If we are not willing to speak for others, who will speak for them, and who will speak for us when and if that time comes?
In all of us exist the best and worst that the world has to offer. As individuals we certainly can’t move all of those elephants off the freeway alone. I probably won’t be able to get this elephant off me by myself, unless I have access to some industrial-grade Diwali firecrackers or something. But, what all of us have to offer together is much more powerful than any one group or individual in particular. Together, we just might be able to herd the elephants away or at least, move them to the side of the freeway.
For the record, I do love elephants as animals. I really can’t explain why they seem cuddly to me.
(Malini Sekhar is the co-founder of the children’s book series, ‘The Little Loka Series’.)