Viraj's Blog

Okay, okay..I know Diwali was over a week ago, but I finally got around to uploading the pictures of the Quad/Puja. I love Diwali at UIUC- not only is it amazing to be able to celebrate my religion so communally with other people (something I NEVER get to do on campus), but seeing all the little kids and grandparents lighting candles and handing out sweets really helps me deal with not being home for it. The pictures turned out pretty well- I have more on fbook/flickr.

Me and the Son-ster. The shy bahu look is in. 

This is for all of the people out there who, for some weird reason, think that it's not Indian culture to be political.

My mom called me at 4pm yesterday, on November 4th, to ask me if I voted. I replied incredulously- the election is all I have been thinking about for, roughly, the past year. Of course I had voted!!

But then, I cautiously asked her if SHE had voted. After all, I rarely talk to my mom about politics, and Indian Americans have one of the lowest rates of civic engagement in the country. I would not have been surprised if she hadn't voted. (Besides, she has a full time job).

My chest literally swelled up with pride when she told me that she had woken up at 6 a.m. to make sure she would have enough time to vote.

An Indian American immigrant woman, born in the mid 1950s into a farming middle class family in India, voting for a black man for President. It takes my breath away.


That, my friends, is the Indian-American Dream.

"Culture, unlike biology, should allow us to seek liberation from from cruel and uncomfortable practices. But instead, culture wraps us in its suffocating embrace."

I open by asking you this: What is "South Asian"/"Indian" culture?

Is it food? Is it dancing? Pretty clothes? Bollywood?

The short answer is yes, kinda. In my experience, that while these are the images that come to mind, people are usually hesitant to admit it because they realize that culture extends so much beyond that. It is also Indian culture to push your kids to their breaking point when it comes to academics. It is Indian culture to promote a government run on corruption.

Yup. That's culture too.

I've never hesitated about my ethnic identity. I've always known that, above all else, I am an Indian. (The "American" came closer to my sophomore year, but I still always say "Indian" first.). I'm not sure when it happened, but I think pretty early in my college experience I started to equate being Indian to being in the Indian Student Association. Almost as if being part of this group made my own ethnic identity more legitimate. I still don't think this is illogical. Being part of the ISA gave me a certain legitimacy as an Indian (American) student on this campus.

"I can talk about Indian things because I'm in the ISA and that proves I know things and that I can talk about them."

I'll say this first and foremost: it is through this organization that I continued to explore "What it means to be Indian". However, if anything, my experience in the group only made me realize that my definition of Indian is drastically different than how the organization defines it.

For the ISA here, and everywhere else in the country, being Indian (as defined by American student groups) is a.) a garba, b.) a "secular" cultural show or two, and c.) living a binge lifestyle. A lot of schools have a Gandhi week which, ironically, contradicts pretty strongly with items b and c.

I had a love/hate relationship with my three years in the ISA. I owe a lot to this organization. I met my two best friends through their involvement in the group. I learned how to network and developed invaluable leadership skills. The doors that being an active member in ISA have opened have been something of a dream.

Along with that gratitude, however, I must admit that I never felt like I was truly a part of the ISA here. I had some fancy titles, some well-known friends, blah blah blah. These aren't retrospective statements- I have written privately throughout the years about this complex social structure that *is* the ISA.

As I said before, I realize now that I equated a lot of my own ethnic identity to my position within the ISA. This year, when I officially (partially voluntarily, but mostly not...that's important in this context) no longer considered myself part of the group, I felt a sort of lost ethnic identity. I still do, I think. I don't know how it feels to be Indian. Growing up, I had rarely any Indian friends, and absolutely no other friends "of color". To quote Prashanth, "I never had to think about the fact I was Indian until I came to UofI".

So, herein lies the dilemma. It is through ISA and my interactions with ISA students that I developed a very real salient ethnic identity, but it is that identity that I formed which ultimately also drove me away. In my own personal attempts to expand the definition of "Indian" as created and reinforced by the 15 or so people that run the group, I was met with lots of resistance. The events I wanted to put on simply didn't appeal to the same number of people that the 4 major events of the year do, and that decreased its legitimacy. Since they didn't meet the criteria for an assured turnout, I was asked to cancel the event before even giving it a chance.

What about those events (a poetry reading, a fellow board member's attempt at creating a media outlet, etc.) made them not "Indian" enough for the ISA to support? I am equally perplexed and frustrated at this thought.

And, I wonder what happens to other students when their tenure is done with this group. The students that get involved with the group (enough to take a leadership position, anyway), are clearly very secure in their own ethnic identities. How are their own ethnic identities altered when they no longer have the additional identity of being in an official ISA, which legitimizes their experience as Indian American students? How is the framework of "Indian" altered to accomodate for the sudden absence of these aesthetic cultural displays?

These are just questions I'm throwing out there. I don't have answers for them nor do I expect it any time soon, but writing out this helps me to sort it out. Thanks for reading :)


Note: I realize that what I said may offend some people. I am simply expressing my opinion and, by posting it, it means that I want to be challenged on what I think. Again, I'll reiterate that I have a profound respect and appreciate for the ISA and the hard work they do, but I also maintain that I, as an involved student I have the right to offer these reflections of my experience.

I would appreciate any thoughts!

I have about 6 drafts of posts started, but I just cant seem to find a way to finish them. Or, rather, to post them. I'll deal with that later.

In the mean time, I started (re) reading some poetry lately- reading so much critical theory can sometimes take the magic out of a lot of daily experiences. This poem, by Pablo Neruda, is one of my favorites...it reminds me to live with passion and makes me realize that others have done it in the past.

Enjoy!

Love Sonnet XI

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Soneto XI

Tengo hambre de tu boca, de tu voz, de tu pelo
y por las calles voy sin nutrirme, callado,
no me sostiene el pan, el alba me desquicia,
busco el sonido líquido de tus pies en el día.

Estoy hambriento de tu risa resbalada,
de tus manos color de furioso granero,
tengo hambre de la pálida piedra de tus uñas,
quiero comer tu piel como una intacta almendra.

Quiero comer el rayo quemado en tu hermosura,
la nariz soberana del arrogante rostro,
quiero comer la sombra fugaz de tus pestañas

y hambriento vengo y voy olfateando el crepúsculo
buscándote, buscando tu corazón caliente
como un puma en la soledad de Quitratúe.

So, for the past two Fridays I’ve gone to this club in D.C. with some OCA girls. The first Friday I went- two weeks ago- I had one of the best nights of my life. I’ll spare you the sickeningly sweet details, but it was a fun (innocent, you dirty bastards) time. Whee!

This past Friday, I returned to the same club and had a drastically different experience. The companions that I went to the club with were still great- fun, adventurous, and really just out to have a good time. The guys were a different story.

That night, Russell Peters (the comedian) was scheduled to make an appearance- I’m going to assume that was the reason that there were so many more males of South Asian descent in the room. However, one thing I noticed as opposed to the week before, was that the guys that were talking to me and/or asking me to dance were mostly from India- that is, they weren’t born/raised in the US. This was definitely a different dynamic from the week before, where the South Asian guys who I did talk to were all born/raised here, like me.

Here’s a synopsis of my interactions with two of the guys this second night (both from India).

Guy #1

While standing in the “protective circle of girls who like to stare at each other while dancing, apparently), guy #1 starts dancing with me. He makes some small talk (i.e. asking me my name, telling me he’s a student .etc.), but he is clearly inebriated, and spills his drink down my back. Wearing a tank top, I (obviously) pull away from the shock and I probably expressed some sort of disgust on my face at being drenched in alcohol. The guy, for some reason, continues to try to dance with me, and I step away, indicating that I’m going to go to the bathroom to dry off. He shoots me a look of disgust (uh, f’real?), and we part ways.

Guy #2

After coming back from the bathroom, guy #2 starts dancing with me- surprise attack. By “Surprise attack” I mean I’m dancing in the “protective circle” and he literally just walks up behind me and starts, basically, thrusting his hips towards my rear. Uh. Gross. I pull away really quickly, politely say that I’m not interested in dancing with anyone right now, thanks, and go to turn back. Before I can turn back to my friends, he leans in to me and says “come on, the clothes youre wearing….you’re begging men to dance with you”. Well, perhaps it was more crude, but anger/time have fuzzed the details. Essentially, he was asserting that the way that I was dressed was making me “ask” for him to “dance” with me in an extremely disrespectful way.

For the record. I was just wearing a red tank top, and a black skirt that went down past my knees.

Still fuming from this, here returns guy #1! He was walking past me on the dance floor and just happened to make eye contact with me in the midst of my fury/shock over what guy #2 had just had the gall to say to me. I broke eye contact with him pretty hastily and turned back to my friends, and when he walked by he (and yes, someone asked me to clarify this) slap-and-grabbed my ass. I spun around, startled, and he winked at me, started to walk towards me, saw the look on my face [v. close to a death stare], and quickly spun around and kept walking.

I was so angry and hurt…I still am. Never in my entire life have I been so verbally and physically disrespected. I’m still reeling because not only did it happen twice, but both times they were South Asian men who had grown up in South Asia. Guy #1 told me, and I’m going off of guy #2’s accent here.

After I had some time to kind of fume and recover from the shock, I started thinking about this. My hair, body type, clothes, and even the people I was with scream that I’m American. It’s extremely obvious to anyone from India. Given that, I suppose these men bought into the stereotype that “all American women [or at least the Indian American ones) go out and have the sex all day” (to quote Bunty & Babli) and that we’ll basically have sex with anyone that walks up to us in a club.

Hey, for some women it might be true- I’m just not one of them.

In any case, these men found it masculating to physically and verbally disrespect- me. Why? After all, if I WERE the stereotyped Indian American girl, I’d probably disgust them as the perfect example of the corrupted Indian girl. Hardly marriage material, and hardly the kind of girl you’d want to be associated with. So I started wondering…why is it that they were so insistent on dancing or ‘getting’ with me?

Then I had to wonder…if they know I’m American, and given that they both have lived in the states for at least some time, they probably can assume that I have some American feminist ideals. Really? You think it’s going to turn me on to slap my ass and tell me I’m dressed like a whore? Yeah, I’m totally swooning.

Why were they exoticizing me? It’s so contradictory, isn’t it? That, on one hand, I’m the “dirty corrupt Indian girl”, and on the other it’s some sort of prize to get with me. I don’t understand. I probably don’t even want to.

At the end of the day, I’m still incredibly offended to find that there’s men out there in the country I live in who still believe it’s completely okay – and perhaps even complimentary- to treat women in such a manner. I’m even moreso upset that I share a social identity, or at least half of one, with these same men- it disgusts me.

Of course, then I wonder…if I WAS having sex all day with random guys, these guys clearly don’t know anything about sex education to think that I’d be an ideal partner. Another call for increased sex ed in India! And in Gloucester, Mass!

At the end of the day, the friends I’ve talked to about this (all male) have been incredibly empathetic and have repeatedly asked me why I didn’t just punch them in the nuts. I should have- especially since I saw one of them the next day while I was in a car with my boss. Oh well- you live you learn, I suppose. My faith in men remains intact (well, for my American born friends at the moment, anyway) and I’ll continue to ponder how the Indian American female is exoticized. Hey, maybe I’ll get a PhD in it.