By Yengkhom Jilangamba
INSENSITIVE MAINLAND: Students from the north-east protesting instances of discrimination. Photo: V.V. Krishnan
Most Indians think racism exists only in the West and see themselves
as victims. It's time they examined their own attitudes towards people
from the country's North-East
The mysterious death of Loitam Richard in Bangalore, the murder of
Ramchanphy Hongray in New Delhi, the suicide by Dana Sangma and other
such incidents serve as reminders of the insecure conditions under which
people, particularly the young, from the north-east of India have to
live with in the metros of this country. What these deaths have in
common is that the three individuals were all from a certain part of the
country, had a “particular” physical appearance, and were seen as
outsiders in the places they died. These incidents have been read as a
symptom of the pervasive racial discrimination that people from the
region face in metropolitan India.
An institutionalised form
Quite expectedly, such an assertion about the existence of racism in
India will not be taken seriously; the response will be to either remain
silent and refuse to acknowledge this form of racism or, fiercely, to
reject it. Ironically, most Indians see racism as a phenomenon that
exists in other countries, particularly in the West, and without fail,
see themselves as victims. They do not see themselves harbouring
(potentially) racist attitudes and behaviour towards others whom they
see as inferior.
But time and again, various groups of people, particularly from the
north-east have experienced forms of racial discrimination and
highlighted the practice of racism in India. In fact, institutionalised
racism has been as much on the rise as cases of everyday racism in
society.
In a case of racial profiling, the University of Hyderabad chose to
launch its 2011 “initiative” to curb drinking and drug use on campus by
working with students from the north-east. In 2007, the Delhi Police
decided to solve the problems of security faced by the north-easterners
in Delhi, particularly women, by coming up with a booklet entitled Security Tips for North East Students asking north-eastern women not to wear “revealing dresses” and gave kitchen tips on preparing bamboo shoot, akhuni, and “other smelly dishes” without “creating ruckus in neighbourhood.”
BRICS summit
Very recently, in the run-up to the BRICS summit in New Delhi, the Delhi
Police's motto of “citizens first” was on full display, when they
arrested or put under preventive detention the non-citizens — the
Tibetan refugees. But the real problem for the security personnel
cropped up when they had to identity Tibetans on the streets of Delhi.
This problem for the state forces was compounded by the fact that Delhi
now has a substantial migrant population from the north-east whose
physical features could be quite similar to those of Tibetans. So, the
forces went about raiding random places in Delhi, questioning and
detaining people from the region. North-eastern individuals travelling
in vehicles, public transport, others at their workplaces, and so on all
became suspects.
Many were asked to produce their passports or other documents to prove
that, indeed, they were Indian citizens and not refugee Tibetans. In
some cases, “authentic” Indians had to intervene in order to endorse and
become guarantors of the authenticity of the nationality of these
north-easterners. The situation became farcical and caught the attention
of the judiciary reportedly after two lawyers from the region were
interrogated and harassed. The Delhi High Court directed the Delhi
police not to harass people from the north-east and Ladakh. How much
easier it would have been for the Delhi Police, if only citizenship and
physiognomy matched perfectly.
But should one expect otherwise from these state and public
institutions, given the fact that racism is rampant at the level of
societal everyday experiences? For north-easterners who look in a
particular manner, everyday living in Indian cities can be a gruelling
experience. Be it the mundane overcharging of fares by autoricksaw-wallahs,
shopkeepers and landlords, the verbal abuse on the streets and the
snide remarks of colleagues, friends, teachers, or the more extreme
experiences of physical and sexual assaults. It is often a never-ending
nightmare, a chronicle of repetitive experience.
One also wonders if racial attitudes, if not outright racism, influence
many more aspects of life than one imagines. For instance, whether there
is any racial profiling of employment opportunities, given the
concentration of jobs for north-easterners mostly in the hospitality
sector, young women in beauty salons, restaurants and as shop
assistants.
Visible and unseen
Of course, racism is difficult to prove — whether in the death of
Richard or in the case of harassment of a woman from the north-east. And
it should not surprise us if racism cannot be clearly established in
either of these cases because that's how racism works — both the
visible, explicit manifestations as well as the insidious, unseen
machinations. Quite often, one can't even recount exactly what was wrong
about the way in which a co-passenger behaved, difficult to articulate a
sneer, a tone of voice that threatened or taunted, the cultural
connotations that can infuriate.
How does one prove that when an autorickshaw driver asks a
north-easterner on the streets of Delhi if he or she is going to Majnu
ka Tila, a Tibetan refugee colony, that the former is reproducing a
common practice of racial profiling? This remark could be doubly
interpreted if made to a woman from the region — both racial and
gendered. How do I prove racism when a young co-passenger on the Delhi
Metro plays “Chinese” sounding music on his mobile, telling his friend
that he is providing, “background music,” sneering and laughing in my
direction? And what one cannot retell in the language of evidence,
becomes difficult to prove. Racism is most often felt, perceived, like
an invisible wound, difficult to articulate or recall in the language of
the law or evidence. In that sense, everyday forms of racism are more
experiential rather than an objectively identifiable situation.
Of course, every once in a while, there will be an incident of extreme,
outrageous violence that is transparently racial in nature and we will
rally around and voice our anger but it is these insidious, everyday
forms of racial discrimination that bruise the body and the mind, build
up anger and frustration. Fighting these everyday humiliations exhausts
our attempts at expression.
If one is serious about fighting racial discrimination, this is where
rules must change — by proving to us that in Richard's death there was
no element of racism. Given the pervasiveness of racism in everyday
life, why should we listen when we are told that those who fought with
him over a TV remote were immune to it?
To recognise that racism exists in this country and that many unintended
actions might emanate from racism can be a good place to start fighting
the problem. To be oblivious of these issues or to deny its existence
is to be complicit in the discriminatory regime. Also, the reason for
fighting against racism is not because it is practised against “our” own
citizens but because it is wrong regardless of whether the victims of
racism are citizens of the country or not. One way to be critical of
racism is to recognise and make visible the presence of racism rather
than merely resorting to legalistic means to curb this discrimination.
(Yengkhom Jilangamba is a Visiting Associate Fellow at the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, Delhi.)
Photos: RK Suresh
Manipur quietly waits for a crisis to unfold
yet again with the 3.5 lakh strong Kuki community demanding a separate
Kuki state, a Kukiland, to be curved out of Manipur. The demand is being
vehemently opposed by other ethnic groups, making space for another
conflict in a state known for its fragile ethnic divide.
Ever since Manipur
faced an economic blockade last year in demand of a separate district in
the Kuki heartland of Sadar Hills, the chasm between the hill and the
valley has widened further on lines of ethnicity. The blockade lasted
more than hundred days, with the Central and state governments doing
almost nothing to end the standoff.
