color, gender and caste...do they define our existence?

Lord Krishna asked his mother in a song titled ‘Radha kyon gori main kyon kala …’(why is Radha so fair and why am I dark-skinned?). Radha, his paramour was fair and Krishna was dark. Even God could not comprehend the dynamics of color and the bias associated with it. I don’t know what Yashoda, Krishna’s mother, had to say to that.
When I first listened to the song, a popular bhajan, it echoed my concern. My mother could not answer my question.
When my cousin, a girl, was born everyone was unhappy because she was not fair enough. Concerns about her getting married into a good family and getting a good match were expressed profoundly. And then began the ardous process of applying various homemade concoctions to make her fairer.
I saw fair women on television and in print selling everything from home appliances to men’s underwear. And I was confused. Why did color matter so much? Why was I asked to put sunscreen when I went out in the sun? Why was I asked to apply Fair & Lovely cream on my face? Why was there so much importance attached to color? And why were we, the not-so-fair ones, considered ugly?
When I took up the media and diversity class, I took it to understand the questions that have evaded me all my life. I come from a conservative and middle-class family and though education, unlike in other such families, was important, being beautiful was always more important. I did not quite understand why it was so.
The complementary status accorded to women was another norm that confounded me. In ancient societies like ours, gender roles are defined and it is very difficult to deviate or follow one’s own choices in life. Women always have to compromise and it is the men who get the upper hand. It is all in the power structures of the society that recognize male supremacy, sanction it and revere it. My aunts never had a choice in selecting their husbands. The couples had never met before marriage. Not even seen each other. Such things are difficult to imagine in free society like America. But they did happen. Divorce was almost always a woman’s fault, brought about by her mistakes and immorality. Women are willful agents, wrote the ancient philosopher Manu, and must be kept in check lest they corrupt men and society. That was what I grew up with.
I went to a good English school, learned about the sacred concepts of freedom, equality and fraternity but found them lacking in my own life and surroundings.
When Muniya came to clean the toilets, she announced her arrival in a loud voice. My mother and grandmother quickly removed things from her way so that they don’t get polluted by her shadow or touch. Muniya was a shudra, one belonging to the lower castes, ordained to clean up after us. She was an untouchable.
Caste system is another issue that plagues the Indian society. Decades after it was abolished by the Indian Constitution, untouchability is still practiced in India, even in cities like Mumbai that are progressive and considered at par with Tokyo and New York City. I feel this is also done to maintain class distinction and to divide votes by dividing people in certain groups. At a film festival in Mumbai, I saw this documentary on low caste women considered untouchables and not even permitted to draw water form the village well, being raped by men from the upper castes.
One woman who was interviewed said when it came to sex, there was no untouchability or class distinctions. There was no fear of getting polluted or corrupted by the touch, she said.
I was not allowed to eat at my Muslim friend’s house because it would violate my religion and faith. And I could not share my lunch with my best friend because she happened to be from a lower caste and I happened to be from an upper caste.
I do not blame my mother or my grandmother because they are products of social and cultural conditioning and never challenged those things. They never had the benefit of a liberal education or were not born in changing times like mine.
From that far and that situation, America looked tempting. It looked perfect. And I wanted to be here. But I was surprised to learn that color is an even bigger issue in United States. Racism is big here. Whiteness is beauty. And blue collar and white collar live different lives and almost never interact. Everywhere I go, I can feel people looking at me with special interest. They make me feel exotic, from the east, from a land of poverty and strange practices and rituals and spicy food. And I never fit in. I can feel it. I can sense it everywhere. At the food courts that I work at, in the class, on the street. The color is a giveaway.
The immigrants are no better. The hyphen never goes. One is always an African-American, an Indian-American and so on. The second or third generation Indians whose parents or grandparents came here and settled are still struggling to blend in and sometimes do not mix with people of their own group in order to maintain the uniqueness or to show the white people that they shun their groups or have nothing in common with their own people so that they find acceptance in a society that they live in but never quite merge with.
Color sticks to us, it shapes our identity, and it shapes other people’s perceptions and notions. And it determines our own views, frustrations and judgments. It determines our social and group behavior. There is a sense of understanding between me and Barbra because we are both products and victims of social conditioning and prejudices. We are both considered exotic and most people think that I am a product of eastern mysticism…that’s my identity at times. And it bothers me. And it bothers me especially because in this society of black and white, the browns are always a misfit with their ‘imperfect’ accent.
Race is our creation and the definition changes to include or exclude people depending on power politics. And in order to maintain the balance of power.
As per the discussion on groups, I feel both sides are equally responsible for creating the difference. One side tries to subdue people, the other side feel victimized but accepts it. That was the problem with the so-called low caste in India. They accepted it. Muniya accepted the tea in a broken cup that my mother pushed toward her with a stick. Why didn’t she challenge it? When I asked her to sit on the chair instead of squatting on the ground, why did she laugh and thought it was such an unbelievable concept? Because they believe in the distinctions and have seldom rebelled against it and the system believes in blocking access to education so that they don’t challenge the power.
These are some of the impressions that have influenced me and have shaped my thinking. I am hopeful though. And though outside pressure in form of revolutions can change society, they are not sustainable or desirable means of change as they bring destruction in their wake and often result in reversal of power structures with the same results.
I feel education will help the most. My mother was more progressive than my grandmother and I am more open to ideas than my mother. So, it changes. It is upon us to go out, find more about other people and think rationally and do away with our insecurities.