Women, Race and Body Image

Please take a moment to read this story. While we were in India we did not have time to digest how the legal system deals with color outside of caste discrimination claims. Farook Batcha has recieved a 2-year jail sentence for calling his wife "black." His comments purportedly stemmed from his disappointment with his bride's complexion. Throughout their brief marriage Batcha frequently taunted his wife with comments about her skin tone, calling her "black" among other things. Within two months of the marriage, Syed Fathima became so depressed she took her own life by pouring kerosene over her head and setting herself on fire. According to the court, his commentary constituted "derogatory and contemptuous" remarks which would amount to "mental torture" who quickly fell into a deep depression from Batcha's remarks. Please refer to the story in full here: Times of India


There are two things that strike me about this story. The first is the emotional cost that women all over the world must pay when they fail to meet up to the standards of beauty. When I first read this story I thought her reaction was extreme. But is it really that different from an American teenager who refuses to eat in order to resemble an emaciated celebrity? Every reasonable adult shakes their head at the "unreasonable standards of beauty" yet no one seems to want to call the idea of a standard in question. Why do we cheer on women who "snap back" to sizes, 4, 2 even 0 mere weeks after giving birth? There seems to be a cultural acceptance that women should do all they can to maintain a "reasonable" level of attractiveness. That this idea has resonance in other cultures is not surprising. My second observation, however, is one that I think is more disturbing. The decision from the Delhi court characterizes Batcha's comments are a damaging enough such that a "sensitive person" would succumb to "mental trauma". In other words, the legal system has now characterized commentary of someones dark complexion as pejorative. Now a cultural standard has legal resonance.

Turing back to the United States, compare this to the Megan Meyer incident--where a woman created an online identity whose taunts drove a young girl to suicide. Public outcry notwithstanding, the incident has yet to result in legal proceedings. The reasons are nebulous but it seems that investigators have had difficulty tracing a strain of causality between the Myspace account holder's commentary and Megan's eventual death. Contrast this story to the 2004 where a Long Island couple, a white man and Dominican woman sued a fertility clinic for inseminating the mother with an African-American donors sperm and not her husbands. In addition to a claim for damages for the mix up itself the couple's lawsuit also states, "While we love Baby Jessica as our own, we are reminded of this terrible mistake each and every time we look at her. It is simply impossible to ignore... We fear that our daughter will be the object of scorn and ridicule by other children, both in school and as she grows up." This lawsuit was allowed to go forward.

Could it be that the difference between these two cases is that where a person can identify what society would deem a "flaw" then the legal system is prepared to offer means to reparations? The effect is that rather than responding to the emotional damage caused by the reactions to this characterization--the characterization is thus reinforced. No one denies the tragedy of these stories, but few decry the social conventions that allow them to go forward.

Coming Home

We left India last Thursday and arrived in New York early Friday morning. Sadly I don't have the words to summarize the profound personal changes this trip engendered. I can, however, summarize what I have learned about identity and empowerment. India is at the cusp of its full-scale introduction to the global stage. What image will it present---the world's greatest democracy or a bloated bureaucracy sagging under the weight of generations of inequality?
Having seen the complexity of Indian nationalism and Dalit consciousness I believe that Professor Crenshaw is right in describing now as the moment where Dalit identity can break through. One thing that is certain is that India is aware of that moment. Green initiatives have swept through the country and roadsigns are increasingly multi-lingual, even though the British left India almost sixty years ago. The Dalit leadership can take this moment of awareness to show the discrepancy of their marginalization when compared to India's public narrative of inclusion. This may be the catalyst that galvanizes the scattered Dalit leadership to form a cohesive movement. When I spoke to David before I left, he questioned whether or not he should stay at DSK. I compared his position to being in Montgomery in 1955. In that instance, the struggle of the African Americans became nationally relevant. One of the greatest tragedies of the Dalit struggle is the fact that up through now their suffering is denied, suppressed and ignored. Activist have an opportunity on the eve of India's global introduction to bring their cause to light.

Insights in the Village

Today, we accompanied Dinesh Solanki, one of the Navsarjan Trust workers who focuses on land issue rights on a trip to his village, about 115 km away from DSK, as well as to a smaller village where he has worked tirelessly to help some of the residents receive land that was rightfully theirs, but had been seized or encroached upon by higher-caste members, and with such land, improve their status in life, and that of their families as well. Dinesh was a wonderful host, explaining in great detail how he came to be involved with Navsarjan, how he has worked on issues ranging from manual scavenging to women’s rights to rallying for Dalit legal rights, and how his entire perception of how to fight for change in the status of Dalit rights and views on the need for education and empowerment of women has completely changed since he met Martin.

Camila and I were welcomed into Dinesh’s home in Sayla, a town of approximately 17,000 residents, but whom are divided into different neighborhoods based on caste status. Dinesh has worked hard to ensure that his area has been equipped with running water and electricity, and when he is not present, his wife, Neetu, makes sure to call and complain when the lights go out or the water’s not running, and make sure that it is fixed.

Meeting the women in Dinesh’s life, particularly his wife, daughter and neighbor, was very inspiring- I will being using some of their thoughts and experiences in my paper, but I wanted to focus on Dinesh’s wife for the purposes of this post in order to give some insights into her life and role in both her family and the community.. Although a little reticent as first, Dinesh’s wife, Neetu, soon opened up to us, and was argumentative, opinionated, and even teased me a bit about my inability to eat her (delicious but) amazingly spicy food. She runs the bhimshala in this village, and has been doing so for a number a years, a program established by the Navsarjan Trust and directed towards Dalit primary school children, in which they come to the house and take part in cultural activities, discussions about the discrimination they’ve faced, and are given books to read on a variety of issues, including four written by Martin teaching them such necessities as how to treat women with equality and to be proud of their caste status. Additionally, both Dinesh and she work together to cook meals, eat together, and clean the dishes together as well. She has also stood her ground when people have tried to discriminate against her- for example, she told us a story about how a higher-caste woman came to get water from a tap near their house, and before she took water, she tried to wash it so it wouldn’t be “unclean.” Neetu stepped out of the house and told her she could not do so, and if that is how she felt, she could go get water from somewhere else. The woman now comes to get water, with no thought of washing the tap. I admired Neetu’s determination and self-confidence in demanding equality both in terms of caste and gender.

However, during one of our interviews, I turned from Neetu to listen to Dinesh speaking. During the same moment in time, a man walked into a room, a friend of the family but not a relative. When I turned back towards Neetu as I was translating Dinesh’s statement into English for Camila, I was startled to see her with her entire face covered. It was almost as if she’d disappeared from the room. Seeing that occur shows me that even in this incredibly progressive household, there are still cultural stereotypes regarding women and their positions in society, that come from outside the family and continue to prevail in terms of her actions. It simply showcases that although progress has been made, there are still battles that must continue to be fought.

This morning, we had the opportunity to speak to Martin about our incredible experiences while at DSK and ask him several questions about the goals of the Navsarjan Trust in the future. He perhaps best encapsulated all of our thoughts, observations, and visions for the future by acknowledging that much had been accomplished and circumstances had definitely improved for so many people but “there is still more to be done.” That idea, that sentiment, has been echoed by Dinesh, by the women we met, the men who had been granted land, and provides hope and assurance that the movement will continue to grow, gaining momentum and victories along the way, until discrimination based on both caste and gender is truly eradicated- an admittedly lofty goal, but after being here for several days, meeting the leaders of this movement and seeing the effects of their hard work and dedication to their causes, I am inspired to think that someday, it can happen.

Make New Friends

By Ehi

The immersion portion of my methodology concluded today. In the two days I spent observing the relationship between R and C, I feel comfortable saying that they are at the very least for a team. They assist each other with assignments and C will often fetch materials for R, while R Part of what we are doing here is establishing the groundwork for new relationships among scholars, so I thought it was fitting that my research allowed me to witness the teamwork dynamics of the two girls. Both are disabled but in observing them, they share common interests and the same sense of humor. We soon discovered that I too, shared a keen interest in tailoring and when my English could break through, a sense of humor.

This realization was put to the test when, Noopur and Camila had been delayed in returning to DSK. I had asked Noopur to translate a few questions for R and C for me, but with them not around, I would have to improvise a solution. I recruited David, an American on a fellowship here and Indu, an instructor in videography here. David speaks some Gujarati and Indu speaks some English, so between the two of them, we could patch together a conversation. After dinner, R, C, David, Indu and I gathered around one of the meal tables. Once we sat down, we looked around at each other solemnly before bursting out laughing. The conversation that followed contained nine minutes of anectodes and revelations interspersed with the universal language of laughter. As it turns out, R and C had been at a hostel for disabled girls in Ahemdabad together. They were reunited at DSK in pure coincidence. Since then the two have been inseparable. After our interview, David, Indu and I walked down the road to buy Fanta. I counted the stars in the night sky while the two of them settled into the rhythm of conversation of two old friends. I smiled at the sight of the small Dalit woman and the American man. While the sight of the two of them would appear strange the sum total of that evening—their conversation, the still heat of the night, the open road and inky black sky helped draw a complete picture. We sat in front of the store while a the shopkeepers wife finished making that evening's chipati. Once again I was struck by the mix of familiar and foreign elements around me; I held a Sprite in my hand while I strained to pick up snatches of Gujarati gossip. David and I complained compared wild dogs to pigeons back home. I teased Indu about her name, which means moon in Hindu. However when pronounced with an extra emphasis on the "d" it can mean egg. The three of us doubled over at the various puns we assembled and I realized that in this short time I have made friends. In overcoming all that I did not share with the men and women I have met here, I can now see all that I do. I hope that future scholars can do the same. If they can, they have an extraordinary experience ahead of them.

"Your Village, My Village

Noopur and I headed to Kataria School, another project of the Navsarjan Trust in the Indian state of Gujarat. At Kataria school, students who are now in 5th from 8th grade received us with enthusiasm and curiosity. Six girls patiently sat in front of us and a recorder to talk about their experiences as Dalit children. After interviewing Dalit adult and teenager females, it was time for the kids. Similar tales of discrimination were told: Dalit children have to sit on the back of the classroom, cannot participate, have to clean the toilets while upper caste children play. Different answers, however, were given to us when we asked them to describe their future: while Dalit women could not conceive the possibility of a life that is independent of marriage, a life takes them to live in a single apartment, for example, Dalit teenagers painted their dream as one of social and economic independence. Dalit teenagers, however, different from Dalit children, could not believe that their dreams were likely to happen. Dalit female children dreamed about being pilots, collectors, policewomen, and teachers. The idea of marriage was refused with a unanimous chorus. The idea of any kind of discrimination based on caste and/or gender was not a naturalized one, but a reality contested with great articulation. I can not think of such mature identity-type of articulation coming from kids in my home country, Brazil.

After leaving the office for lunch and masala chai, children sang songs in English, touched us, kissed us and asked us questions. The questions for me were about my name and my village. My village, I told them, is far away. In my village there is a rainforest; there are about 200 million people; there are poor and rich; there are the ones who, as the Dalit, suffer discrimination, which is color-coded; whichprevents Black pride from flourishing; which is a cause for economic deprivation. In my village, I told them, there is a Northeastern corner where food has not arrived; where rain never comes; where schools such Kataria do not exist; where the roads do not find their way.

As I kept thinking about the remote corners of the "Brasil Sertanejo" (the in-land Northeastern Brazil) I was thinking that the sertanejo children face a similar type of social pressure, racial stereotyping, and stigmatization. If they stay where they were born, they will probably remain illiterate even if attending school in the little villages; if they migrate to the bigger cities (generally, São Paulo, Belo Horizonte, or Rio de Janeiro,) they are likely to join the group of Afro-Brazilian kids who attend public schools, which, like the Indian governmental counter-parts, do not prepare kids to equally compete and succeed. These schools rather take on the national project of naturalizing hierarchy and impinging in lower-caste kids low-self
esteem and passiveness.

Like the Dalits in governmental schools, Brazilian kids will likely not learn how to ascertain their rights as "Sertanejos" or "Afro-Brazilians" or "Indians." Identity-building is certainly foreign
for the young Brazilians, especially the ones who are lost amongst extreme poverty.

The Gujarati kids who attend Kataria arrived there with clothes and slippers; they probably arrived there, however, with their sense of self torn by previous discriminatory experiences that are rather more blunt than the Brazilian ones. Caste discrimination and untouchability practices infiltrate not only the villages, but government institutions: Dalit kids in public schools are used to clean dry and wet toilets, while Dalit adults are until these days responsible for cleaning toilets in public buildings for very low-paid wages.

Brazilian kids from the Northeast ( and here I am referring specifically to the region called Sertão Nordestino) arrive to village schools without shoes, without food on their stomachs, but with a life that perhaps is marked by racial and ethnic discrimination by abandonment and by lack of identity and pride. The lives of those kids are of almost total exclusion, where no interaction with other people is available. Despite the fact, therefore, that the nature of exclusion is different, Brazilian kids – I speculate—could benefit tremendously from the same remedies conceptualized and applied by the organizations here in Gujarat. Not only food on the table is needed, but especially the building of skills, the building of a sense of self, a sense of importance and resilience.

As I head out to catch the bus with Noopur and our insightful guide Jalpa, I really felt I should go back to my village. I should go back to my village while the momentum is there. My village now struggles to implement programs for equality, it recognizes and fights discrimination. As the efforts of the village called India are still far from remedying the situation of the Dalits, NGOs' mobilization pushes the efforts towards change. The Brazil Village concentrates its efforts in the Southern population, which has been key for the incremental inclusion of Afro Brazilians. Nonetheless, Brazil's undertaking is still far from reaching all of its remote corners and entrenched problems, one of them being the abandonment of one of its peoples, the Northeasterners.

Perhaps it is time to test the replicability of empowerment initiatives successfully conceptualized and implemented by the Dalit Empowerment Center and Kataria school in Brazil. Certain regions of Brazil such as the in-land northeast have similar characteristics: high concentration of land ownership at the hands of the white upper class, institutional abandonment, and a very distinct group of people who similarly to the Dalits have suffered from targeted discrimination, stereotyping, stigmatization, economic deprivation and social exclusion. Despite of the anecdotal and rather superficial nature of this analysis, it tells us that the predicate for exclusion
of Dalits and Northeasters are close enough to justify the use of successful remedial ideas interchangeably.

"A Two-Men-Made Village!"

Dinesh is one of the coordinators of the Land Rights' Army. This is what we were told yesterday before we met him. Noopur and I headed to our interview with Ganesh at about 8:00 am without being sure about what would happen. We both prepared specific questions about land right's issues, made comparisons with the situation in Brazil and imagined a very targeted conversation.

As we are outside the Center's administrative offices waiting for our meeting, we see Martin Macwan, who had just come back from Nepal. We pinned him down with all our strength and enthusiasm and sat for chai. Martin asked us about our experiences at DSK and kindly answered our questions about the future of the Trust and the many projects it holds, including DSK and Kataria School. Martin explained that his dream is to be able to offer programs for Dalit children from 5 to 17 years of age in a very intensive room-and-board fashion so that accompaniment, kinship, identity building, and real empowerment can happen along with quality education. Martin says that if the Trust stays with a child for those many years, after that, they should be
ready, and there is nothing else he can do.

After learning about future undertakings, we asked Martin to tell us more about some specific issues, which resonated with our group during our stay at DSK. For instance, issues of reconciling secularism and gender equality with parents' expectations and community perceptions surfaced. In regards to the former, Martin says that parents do not realize the secular nature of the institution. The lack of religious affiliation even works as an advantage given the fact that religion is one of the most overarching factors into the equation of exclusion that has marginalized Dalits. On the other hand, the latter, gender, has been a constant exercise of balance: finding procedures and approaches to promote as much gender equality as possible in ways that parents and girls alike are safe and comfortable in regards to the politics of the institution. Practical measures include to separate the hostel of boys and girls and to have them sit in separate tables during lunch. It also includes to give boys and girls specific time and places to be together such as in classes and morning exercise sessions.

At this point, Dinesh, the land rights coordinator arrived in the room. Martin left us, and we started our journey with another great leader. While Martin is the inspiration for ALL the people we have met here and in the villages, Dinesh is the inspiration for the villagers of Sayla. He is one of the 25 men and women elected by the people as councilmen of the Village. He is considered the chief officer. Dinesh coordinates the efforts on the distribution and possession of government mandates for land ownership by the Dalits and, at the same time, he makes sure that "his" village improves fast and with less caste-discrimination. He is fighting for better schools (two big schools are being constructed and when asked about who will supervise the teachers to make sure discrimination does not happen, he does not hesitate to take the responsibility,) he built a universal well, and he now wants to build a bridge that connects the villagers of Kanpur with Sayla in the times of monsoon. Two of the farms in Kanpur are run by Valmikis, the lowest caste into the hierarchy. Dinesh and the Land Rights Army were able to fight encroachment and give them land. These two families which 10 years ago lived off of manual scavenging are now farming land and selling agricultural products for the same price as anyone else in Kanpur and Sayla.

Dinesh walks around the village center with us showing the new developments; he walks towards inclusion and integration even if Muslims, Dalits and Non-Dalits are still spatially segregated. Interestingly enough, despite housing segregation, Dalits and non-Dalits shop, go to school, dine with each other. In the village of Sayla, women and men share responsibilities inside and outside their homes, and because of the courage of one brave female laborer, women and men make the same amount of money in all occupations despite of construction. Noopur and I did see some signs that reminded us of the many gender problems that have shocked us until this day and that are part of the discourse of females of all ages. Examples include the usage of the head scarf in front of male strangers, and the gender dynamics when males and females share the same room: women would not answer our questions without the interference of their men. Still, the types of gender imbalances we experienced seemed to be closer to the realm of acceptable cultural differences and not unacceptable violations of basic rights.

The village of Sayla has changed over the past 10 years, a mark that correlates with the beginning of the activities of the Trust and institutional work of Martin Macwan in Gujarat. Martin is creating a network of leaders like Dinesh who share his gender and caste sensibility and have the skills to spread such sentiment throughout a whole community. This work has not been easy and is far away from being completed. Small victories have been collected such as the fact that waste land in the last 5 years have been given in the largest number to Dalits and that all land titles given to Dalits in the reform of 1962 became actual possessions by 1995. Other victories include the building of quality Dalit schools, litigation of several cases in regards to abuse against Dalit women, and the implementation of a Video Unit, which screens documentaries on issues of public interest in more than 400 villages every week.

The victories in the rural area, however, do not overshadow the difficulties in the cities. While land ownership has served as a way of empowering and equipping Dalits for a life with more infra-structure and less discrimination, the plight of Dalits in the cities have not been discussed as much at the grassroots level. There are different problems in the city caused by caste hierarchy that are labeled more as a result of urban poverty than of untouchability. Nonetheless, Dinesh, the man who "owns" a village and built a universal water well just beside his house is aware of the challenge in the cities. He also says that the Trust has to concentrate in incremental changes and local efforts.

Dinesh concentrates his energy in his own village. He carries on with Martin's teachings. He believes that step-by-step the village of Sayla grows and becomes a place for all, a place where his children will cross the centennial gate that has separated Dalit and non-Dalit for decades and will fully overcome untouchability and discrimination. After a long day in the field, one wonders how many villages like Sayla one can find in Gujarat, how many Dineshes one can find in India, and how many Martins one can find in the world.

Travels and Travails

By Noopur

Yesterday, Camila and I went to visit one of the three primary schools established by the Navsarjan Trust for Dalit children for their education from 5^th-8^th grade. The school itself was wonderful, and we had an amazing time seeing the facilities and being inspired by both the enthusiastic teachers and the intelligent children. However, our travels to and from the site were a different kind of wonderful, an interesting and more traditional experience of the utilization of public transportation by most Gujaratis, particularly those from the rural villages.

We stepped outside DSK with our guide, a Navsarjan Trust employee who is the coordinator of all the schools, and about ten minutes later, she flagged down a seemingly full extended autorikshaw, a vehicle which seemed large enough to seat six comfortably but instead had 12 individuals crammed into the small space. We were astonished when the driver agreed to take us, and the game of musical chairs began, to accommodate the three women who would be added to the crowd. Two men stepped out of the rikshaw, and instead of being able to have another seat, one climbed onto the luggage carrier on the top of the rickshaw, and another simply hung on to the side for the duration of his journey. As for us, we were squeezed tightly on a bench made for perhaps one or two people, and Camila was so scared that I was going to fall out that she had a protective hand on my leg, pulling me into her, at all times. After being insulated in closed taxi cabs, flights, and private cars for the duration of our trip, it was an exhilarating experience being in a more open-air vehicle, even crammed into a small space with more than double the amount of people that should be present.

So we were dropped off by the auto-rickshaw at the “bus stand.” When this bus stand was first explained to us, Camila and I imagined a traditional Western bus station, where busses would be coming by a regular time table, and one would be able to see their route, or at least their final destination, through some kind of set plan so as to easily determine which bus should be taken. However, I suppose we forgot we were in India. This “bus stand” would be better described as a large intersection where you must flag down a bus going by, explain where you want to go and occasionally persuade the ticket collector to take you to your destination, with some haggling of price afterwards.

Our guide said we got lucky with our selection of a bus- it was a direct bus, so would not stop so much along the way, and the three of us fit comfortably on a cushioned bench seat directly behind the driver where we were able to see all of the scenery and road through the expanse of the windshield. I, who was quite certain would need to listen to music or take medication during the trip, found myself enjoying the ride, the wind coming in through the windows, and the gorgeous expanses of land and farms that we saw as we were speeding by. The beautiful land, hundreds upon hundreds of acres of it, rightfully belongs to many of the Dalit people in this region; however darbars have encroached on the land and taken possession of it, to the economic detriment of the Dalits in this part of Gujarat. We decided that tomorrow, we would meet with one of the land rights workers, and have them explain the situation of illegal land possession, and how Navsarjan is legally regaining the land and restoring it to its proper owners.

For our journey back, we simply stood outside the school, which is located right off the highway, and our guide and one of the school’s teachers tried to flag down a bus or a rikshaw to take us back to the “bus stand.” One of the most interesting situations occurred when I saw a bus labeled “Patel” in the distance coming towards us, and for the first time, both our guide and the teacher dropped their hands and did not bother to try to stop the bus. I wondered why that was the case, then realized that Patel is a traditionally high-caste Gujarati surname, and both individuals probably thought it was unlikely that such a bus would stop outside a known Dalit school to pick up passengers. It was our first time seeing clear-cut discrimination against Dalits in front of our own eyes; we have been so insulated and immersed within the Dalit community that we had never before seen their treatment at the hands of any upper-caste individuals.

After we finally boarded a bus, the conductor informed us that they could not take us all the way, but would drop us off at a location where we could get another bus. When we disembarked at a very rural village, it immediately became apparent that we would not find a vehicle immediately- every jeep, rickshaw and bus that passed us was either actually completely full or unwilling to stop to pick us up. While we were waiting, Camila, our guide and I managed to get soft drinks and finish them, select and purchase cookies and crackers, and Camila even bargained a little for bananas. We managed to find enough to keep ourselves occupied during the seemingly lengthy waiting period before we found a bus to pick us up. However, as we looked around the village, we saw many individuals who weren’t doing anything at all, and many of them appeared to have been in that stationary position for quite some time. It was no longer surprising to me that every one of these people were men- there was not a woman to be seen in the area that was simply sitting and doing no work. In so many ways, it becomes increasingly apparent that women are the ones who do most, if not all of the work of the family, both in terms of taking care of the household chores as well as serving their husbands and in-laws and often bringing in the money as well. Their subservient roles in society as well as their increasing familial and economic burdens do not allow them to take a break, but their husbands, who do not have anything to do because the women work so hard, are permitted to luxuriate in their extended leisure time.

While we were in the very small rural village waiting for a means to take us to the bus station, we noticed that open-air rickshaws, essentially flat metal bed carts, were often available. When we asked if we could take one of them, emphasizing that we didn’t particularly care about comfort, our guide first told us that they were not made for long journeys, and we had a ways to go. Later, she clarified by saying that these metal open-air rickshaws are extremely unsafe, particularly in light of the fact that there are many accidents that take place on the highway, and without any structure or shock absorbers, we could be seriously injured should anything happen. After we finally squeezed ourselves in a jeep (Camila and I had to count a few times to realize that yes, a car that should have held 11 people actually had twenty-five individuals crammed into the vehicle, including men hanging from the doors and on the luggage carrier!), our guide spoke further. “Yes, also see these men hanging onto the side of the?” she said. “If for some reason they let go while we are moving, they’re done.” I was astonished at both the concept and the matter-of-fact tone, but for her, it was a common idea, nothing too radical, one of the daily potentially dangerous situations that can take place while riding public transportation in these areas despite the existence of traffic laws.

I think this was our one and only opportunity to be able to do something like this- without a guide, we wouldn’t have been able to catch these versions of public transportation, and tomorrow, our last day here, when we meet with the land rights worker, we will be taking a private taxi again. However, Camila and I had an amazing adventurous experience, and enjoyed our interactions with people and the environment in rural Gujarat as we traveled together on traditional forms of public transportation.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

By Ehi

Can you escape caste? My study involves researching the intersectionalities of caste and disability. As terrible as this sounds I was hoping that disability would supercede caste as a mode of discrimination. My findings today indicate that it may not. Because this research is still ongoing I will not say anything conclusive. Instead, I will look at this as an opportunity expound on a change I have felt since coming here. As I have adjusted to being abroad, I find that less and less can bother me. However, as the burden of each issue becomes lessened, the things that I have struggled the most to overcome still weigh more than ever. It's as if, without all the other surface issues of alienation and fear, the insecurity I have about the enormity of this project looms even larger. This is what I believe led to the breakthrough I had with respect to my methodology. How was I, who spoke no Hindi and even less Gujarati supposed to get to the kernel of an issue which is a private and deeply personal struggle? It was a tough morning as Noopur, Camila and I retooled my methodological process. We agreed that the best way( and probably most authentic) was to jump directly into the fabric of this place. I had to redesign my
instrument and it worked out for the best.

The technical term for this process is immersion and I would be performing an ethnographic study. Simply put, I was going to shadow two case studies—both were disabled students, where one was Dalit and the other not. The task before me was the same as before—to see if I could understand the relationship between caste and disability. This was the breakthrough I had been waiting for. Rather than tip-toe around these weighty issues, I was going to dive head-first into them. I wasn't even frightened! Instead, I tingled with excitement. I was also relieved to be at one of the few places that I knew of in India that allowed this process. I am not speaking of only Dalit empowerment or outside academic visits. I mean that this approach was in keeping with the one of the tenents of DSK's ideology—accepting who and where you are and making the most of it. I had to keep myself from shaking my head during my several interviews today when I realized that I could have almost missed the richness in resources of this place.
Walking around the Dalit Shakti Kendra I realized why I had might not have appreciated all of its attributes at once. Instead of a neat quadrangle the paths ran around and across each other. We slept in one hostel and shared bathing and bathroom facilities. We each had to serve ourselves meals and after which they had to be scoured with sand then washed in a six-sectioned tub of dishwashing solution and water. At first the procedure frustrated me; it cut across every component of infrastructure that made up the United States. DSK design promoted slow, inclusive and holistic actions; which did not prefigure in my consciousness. I had expected a group of revolutionaries just about to boil over. DSK felt more like Buddhist monastery. Each person performed simple tasks and sought to become incredibly proficient in their area of concentration. This was true of the subject of today's research. R, as I will call her is physically disabled and in a society where a woman's marriage can often determine her quality of life, it can be harmful for future prospects. However, R does not see it that way. She is the star pupil of her tailoring class and has definite plans to open up her own business---where she will be the only tailor in her village.

When asked about her future, unlike women from a generation ago---for whom any physical imperfection was considered an insult to a future husband, R sees her future in terms of lasting success in her career. However, unlike most girls here, R is not Dalit. Even more illustrative is that the question of caste was prompted by her. While I don't speak enough Gujarati to have known if was said incidentally or deliberately—the admission is striking. I still have much more research to do so I hope that her caste does not factor into her ambition—at least not to the extent that her dedication and vision do.

The Bravest Women I Know

By Ehi

The most profound portion of our study is under way. We are now trying to weave all of the observations we have about India into the questions we have for the students here. The stories we have heard on paper are eloquent and powerful, but nothing can compare to the strength of hearing it in broken English, Hindi and Gujarati directly from the sources. Nothwithstanding this task, I cannot help but hope that we don't get carried away in the surge of narratives that we have ahead of us. The truth is that Noopur and I have a task while we are in India. We have to weave the threads that we have picked, each of which represent only pieces of the entire Dalit struggle into a vehicle that translates into our projects, each of which are only piece of the struggle of women and minorities in the United States. With this in mind, we are designing a methodology to address the observations we have had about India, caste and gender. The object of that methodology is to present it to our subjects to test our hypotheses about the intersectional relationships we have noted.

Although it sounds very technical its actually quite simple. The process involves immersing myself so that I can learn how the men and women of DSK see themselves and the trajectory of their mobility. However, as I stumbled into groups of girls on the playing fields of the day, I realized that it was going to take a greater sensitivity than I had previously thought. At first I was uneasy with the idea of posing questions meant to extract insights that my subjects were not even aware of themselves. Then I realized that this was the reason why I came to India, to face these realizations. So my task from here on is to sensitively design questions that provoke insights into how the identity of each subjects is formed.

Coming from the West, I am realizing that I have had a tendency to view this movement in one dimension; Dalit struggling against a nationalistic framework that denies their existence. These interviews paint another picture, however. While the stories from the Dalit women's leadership were inspiring, their past seemed to mark them even through the day. When we interviewed the girls today, each of them were brimming with their ideas for the future. The longer I stay here the more I realize that there might be a generational gap between the young Dalit women and the older leadership. Although being female is largely subordinate to the Dalit leadership, these girls don't see it that way. Among them are budding entrepreneurs, police officers and even videographers. They generally don't see marriage as the final stop on the road of their lives. I don't either.

Immersion Introspection

By Noopur

Every day we spend here is completely draining, physically, mentally and emotionally. We spend our days facing a rich cultural onslaught of observations, conversations and revelations and trying to process all of these reactions simultaneously is an intensely exhausting process. I am running on automatic in terms of translating Gujarati/Hindi into English, and vice versa, and so tired that I am starting to forget words in English when I’m trying to explain a point to Ehi and occasionally addressing Camila in Hindi without even realizing what I’m doing.

Today, I spent the day interviewing women students at DSK on their views regarding issues they have faced before arriving here, both in terms of caste and gender discrimination, and the changes they have felt, if any, within themselves and the surrounding community during and after their experiences here. The stories they told collectively confirm my hypothesis regarding the need for Dalit women to be individually empowered in an external space outside their community, in a locale such as DSK, that will allow them to return to their communities with their newfound knowledge and beliefs of equality to be showcased and effect changes in their own homes, families and villages. Only after they are powerful in their own right can they actively begin work in the social movement of all Dalits combating the caste-based stereotypical system that continues to reign over Indian society. Combining their stories with the viewpoints of the powerful session we had with a group of Dalit women activists yesterday paints a picture of a society where patriarchy rules above all else, and women, although they may receive the benefits of education, particularly from progressive parents, must continue to submit to the gender hierarchy and marital culture, where they are seen to be subservient to their husbands, fathers, and brothers, as well as bound to obey their mothers-in-law in every way, shape and form.

However, everyone also raved about how DSK is different from their families and towns, how much they enjoy being here, how they have learned to believe in the tenets of equality. Many of the boys are doing laundry for the first time after they arrive here, and washing dishes- the latter traditionally is considered to be very much a woman’s role. The worry is that the changes that are brought about in the minds and actions of the men and women when they are here do not translate into substantial long-term behavioral modifications once the students leave campus. One of the teachers I spoke to today suspected less than 20% of the boys who will continue to carry out all of these principles at home. However, little tweaks in behavior are usually wrought on the boys through their experiences here- perhaps they will believe that their sisters should select their own husbands instead of getting arranged marriages, for example, or accept the fact that their wives will be educated. These alterations in perspective, although they may appear trivial in the Western mindset, are incrementally important and significant in terms of an indication that progress that has been made, and continues to be made, in a system that has been established and entrenched for thousands of years and therefore, it will take time, effort, hope and the help of DSK and the Navsarjan Trust to bring about similar changes, albeit slowly, in the future.

We have discussed the notion that this organization is a teaching institution, although not an educational one per se; alongside technical skills, the students are being taught a specific ideology in order to better prepare them to be leaders and activists in the Dalit social movement in the future. Much as this may be debated, however, particularly when questions regarding the center’s orientation are discussed, it has obviously had a profound effect on members of this community within DSK, and perhaps this center is taking a small step in combating discrimination against Dalits and women, and leading the charge for empowerment for both at the same time- the only true way for the social movement to become an effective tool for change within this environment.

Cultural Relativists: Where is the boundary drawn?

A group of Dalit women arrived here at DSK this past Saturday, March 22nd, to have a conversation with our group. They were especially interested in telling their struggles to Kimberle Crenshaw, who is currently one of the most prominent Black feminists in the US. These women came to share their stories and to take their struggles across boundaries. They left their homes during the holiday of Holi a holiday that celebrates Spring with a Festival of Colors. They chose not to have their faces covered with paint, but to open up, to undress, to tell us about what have fallen into the cracks and have made their lives a constant struggle. After initial introductions we became comfortable with each other and the women told their stories. What we heard was a compilation of absurd stories of caste and gender discrimination. As the meeting continued we have heard surreal stories of other types of stigmatization caused by unnamed sub phenomena like discrimination against families with numerous daughters, etc.

We sat there for 3 hours actively and carefully listening and trying to understand that despite the fact that many of the variables that cause these women to live these lives that are beyond oppressive and violent, we asked ourselves whether there is a point in which cultural relativism becomes extraneous.

Feminist critics of relativism often say that there is a level of suffering that is universal. Stories of physical and mental exploitation and abuse by husbands, in-laws, and the community around the women that came to DSK are exactly in that category of suffering; which has to be universally repudiated, fought back, and attract as much local and global support as possible.

Ranjan, a beautiful Dalit women of the lower sub caste, dressed in light blue, sparked, for the first time, the sentiment of sisterhood among the women in the room. She told her story pumping her fist and tearfully describing a life of subordination. Ranjan habitually carried for years 25 to 35 kilograms of grains and fennel for the cows, several times each day. This was one of her daily activities besides all household shores and besides arriving home for an abusive husband, whose role in the eyes of the society was to supervise her, make sure she remained well-behaved. Ranjan did not. She separated and remarried. In her second marriage, which was a love one instead of an arranged one, she married with a man pertaining to a different sub-caste. Now, besides all of the household shores and three children to educate, Ranjan goes out of the house to face unbearable social pressure, stigmatization, and discrimination.

Ranjan is one of the many Dalit women who joined the movement to find a space where she can be comfortable, where she can wear comfortable salwars and uncover her face (instead of the sari and veil—the only accepted attire for married women,) where she can speak out and inspire others, where she can identify with the many women with similar stories. Unfortunately, most of these stories remain untold, buried within a patriarchal system that seems to be impossible to overcome. Ranjan is one of the women who joined us looking for certain basic rights that we (and here I am referring to our research group formed by an Indian American, two African Americans, and one white Brazilian woman.) have taken for granted. Ranjan and her friends joined us more with the objective to build a forum where women can tell their stories in the language that women around the world can learn, the language of suffering.

A Passage to Ahmedabad

Today, we flew to Ahmedabad and settled in at DSK, a vocational center aimed at helping economically and socially disadvantaged young adults establish careers outside of their traditional caste-based job opportunities (including manual scavenging and severely underpaid agricultural laborers. They receive intensive training in such areas as tailoring, beauty school, and furniture making over the course of an intensive 45 day period and afterwards, are trained in their field to join factories or establish their own businesses. It is one of the initiatives of the Navsarjan Trust, which works for the Dalit movement in the state of Gujarat, and Camila, Ehi and I have the opportunity to be here for the next five days. When we’re living at the center, we will be following its rigorous daily routine just like the rest of the students, and will have the opportunity to observe classes, visit primary boarding schools in the villages (which is also an initiative of the Navsarjan Trust), and most importantly, talk and interact with the students to get first-hand accounts of their lives, their schooling, their beliefs, and their plans for the future.

It has only been one day, and I am already impressed by the center and its hard-working staff and students. Simply being at the center is an inspiring experience. Yesterday, Professors Harris and Crenshaw were to speak for forty minutes on social movements, and their remarks were translated in Gujarati as they spoke, for the benefit of the audience. The talk ended up lasting over two hours! However, not one person stopped paying attention; even though they could not understand the speakers, everyone paid attention to the professors while they were talking, without being distracted by anything, and no one fidgeted or even appeared as if they were bored. They were respectful and engaged, asked intelligent questions at the conclusion of the presentation, and were a model audience- all considerations that a group of well-educated Muslim men could not manage to accomplish at one of our lectures in Delhi a few days ago.

The intensity of the students is astonishing. Camila and I visited classes with one of the directors of the institute, and in every classroom, everyone was hard at work; some of them did not even stop to look at us while they continued their mobile repair course, their steel fabrication, their machinist training. They are here for 45 days, and spend nine hours in class every day, learning their trade! The rest of their days are spent performing calisthenics, chores and clean-up around the campus- everyone does everything, so often, this is the first time that boys have had to clean bathrooms and do laundry- participating in an empowerment session in the evening that consists of a combination of meditation and intellectual discourses on a variety of topics related to Dalit activism, finishing homework, and engaging in daily diary entries about the day’s events. Additionally after every meal, every person washes their own plates and cutlery, and so the dishes are ready (albeit a little damp) for the next meal. This combination of training, empowerment and self-reliance promotes the center’s goals in teaching and training Dalit activism to young adults who have the ability to leave here and effect these kinds of changes in their own villages.

I love that in many ways, the women in particular are so empowered here, and it is reflected in their behavior and actions. If any girl wants to take a non-traditional course, such as electrical wiring or security training, her tuition fee is waived, in order to better encourage her to learn new vocational skills- and girls have absolutely taken advantage of this opportunity. Additionally, Martin Macwan, the director of the Navsarjan Trust, strongly advocates the idea that women are the true catalyst for change in many social movements. The women are told that they may argue with their instructors if they feel that the instructor is not quite correct, a revolutionary concept for most women who are raised with the traditional notions of deference to all elders. The effects can be seen in how they interact with us as foreigners and newcomers to their environment. When I sat down at dinner last night in a group of women, I expected shy smiles and very little conversation from the girls, as that is what happened when I approached women in Delhi in similar situations. However, the girls took turns peppering me with questions, and telling me all about their backgrounds and lives- even when they couldn’t speak Hindi or English, they figured out how to make me understand them anyway, and pressed me for details on a variety of topics until they were satisfied that they had learned all that they wanted to know. This morning, our door was flung open at 6 am by a group of girls who came and attacked our faces with color (kindly avoiding my white pants, although they had every right not to) to celebrate Holi, followed by demands to know where we were at morning calisthenics and teasing me when I explained that I didn’t come because I was so inept as to be unable to figure out how to open the door to our room- it jams and there is a special way to fix it that I have not quite yet learned how to do. They express the notions of being immediately comfortable with me and treating me as an equal, two very rare concepts in general for women, and astonishing in particular as they are members of a downtrodden caste and from rural villages, but absolutely the norm in this supportive progressive environment. I am excited to continue our experience here; I expect that it will continue to be rewarding and also a great deal of fun.

Changing scenarios, transferable concerns!

By Camila


After 5 days in New Delhi, we finally arrived in Gujarat, where we will be observing and participating in the activities of the Navsarjan Trust, particularly the activities of the Center for Dalit Empowerment (or DSK.) The Trust is directed by Martin Macwan, a great host, a world-renown activist, and a true leader.

From New Delhi, especially after riding for a total of 8 hours on the way from the Faridabad Border, I leave with a very strong memory of an urban space that is overwhelming at many levels. While cars, motorcycles, bicycles, pedestrians, scooters, auto-rickshaws, and German cars all ride together and with no acknowledgement of the
pedestrians, cows, and dogs, the city vibrates between old and new and very rich and very poor. Going to the Taj Mahal, one of the most luxurious architectural accomplishments on earth, we have seen cardboard houses, homeless children, and open sewers, all less than 5 meters from the chaotic traffic described. We have seen various trucks carrying perhaps ten times the amount of a reasonable load of grains, jeopardizing even further the situation of the transients for the sake of profit. At the Taj Mahal, we were astonished with its beauty, and I myself questioned the dichotomy between the availability of resources that Shah Jahan could deploy to build the masterpiece because of his source of power, and the fact that as a ruler, his responsibilities should have been towards deploying such resources to his people, who are for the most part and to this day victims of an unjust power structure.

Now in Gujarat, the rural scene is different, but similar concerns strike our minds, as we prepare to spend almost a week on a very unfamiliar environment. We have dealt with things ranging from difficulties with the shower, bed, toilets, etc., to more substantial conflicts between our views of poverty and the poverty seen in India.

The poverty seen here in rural and urban spaces are not visually the same; however, they raise similar issues and are in nature the result of regional caste politics and stratification. Issues such as open sewage are common, despite the fact that the more pressing and urgent issue of manual scavenging is more related to the villages and the rural communities. Unemployment among Dalits and, especially, illiteracy among the Dalits are major concerns in both rural and urban spaces, despite the fact that in urban areas mobility within caste has generated organized social mobilization. In rural areas, mobilization operates even more in terms of building a lost identity, empowerment, and inclusion in the more basic processes of social life. We are starting to see these dynamics play out here with the students of DSK and we hope to further this analysis with many more stories to tell.

Arrival to DSK

Blog 2 - by Ehi March 21-22nd

We have arrived at the DSK, the Dalit Shakti Kendra--- a vocational training center for Dalit children in Gujarat. The center is Navsarjan's attempt to overcome the caste system through economic empowerment. Of all the places we have been in India, I am overcome with peace as we walk around here. Delhi's urban sprawl and underlying class tension stand in strong contrast to what we found here. Martin Macwan has built not only a physical expression of the [best tool?] but a sanctuary for Dalit. So far, few have outwardly acknowledged the tragedy and hypocrisy in the Dalit's relationship to India. Even it is, the narratives are largely academic and with the exception of a few anectdotes, we had not had a sense of what the Dalit were as a
people.

That changed when we arrived here. The limited public discourse had focused on the oppression and poverty endured by the Dalit, and while we have witnessed it here it is important to know that they are also vibrant, kind and beautiful people. Holi, the Indian festival that celebrates spring is happening now, and traditionally people paint each other's faces. It is especially striking to see young women, who face some of the worst systematic violence against women, smile and
walk with pride. One of the greatest sins committed against the Dalit population is the shame that each generation has inherited. Knowing that they are not destined to suffer but can celebrate life instead of merely bearing it. This is a crucial aspect in the articulations of affirmative action and reservation policies that is, in my opinion, not emphasized enough. Even those who subscribe to the meritocracy critique of such policies must acknowledge that Dalit are all inherently worth those opportunities to empower themselves.

Pictures on the Way!

So we arrived in Gujarat and immersed ourselves in the daily activities of DSK, the center for Dalit Empowerment, which functions as a vocational training center, but especially as a center for seeding the Dalit Movement and building Dalit identity among youth between 13 and 35 years old. DSK is in a village about 50 kilometers from Ahmedabad, the capital of Gujarat. The village has 600 inhabitants and does it best to accommodate the needs of the students coming to DSK. Still, we are pretty much unplugged from the rest of the world, which is good for our learning and understanding, but not ideal to share such experiences with you. We will do our best to post text from Gujarat, but the pictures will have to travel with us. Please, visit our blog, read our texts, and imagine the rich environment which we are enjoying! We cannot wait to tell you more about it!

The Taj Mahal and the Road to Delhi

Today we went to the Taj Mahal. The beauty of the area is not the masoleum itself --at least in my opinion--but the peace that the surroundings give. It's mathematically designed to look small from far away--but as you walk closer you are stuck by this massive building. The level of care built into each detail is extraordinary. Once inside the cool marble makes a shuts out the bright sun, and an ornately carved candelabra illuminates a dais, where, set behind 6 foot screens of filigreed marble, stands the slender sarcophagus holds the body of the Shah's favorite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It is pristine, precise and almost perfect. Occupying most left side of the dais is the tomb of the Shah himself. It rises over the top of the marble screen, and does not follow any symetry of the structures surrounding it. Although he had expressedly requested that she be buried alone, he was laid next to her on the orders of his son, Aurangazeb.

Coming to that site and seeing the Shah's grave thrown onto the dais made a thought clear that had been percolating through my brain for the past few days: Governments can be terribly insensitive.

I don't mean to be glib, and the Taj Mahal is an achingly poetic monument to a pair of lovers, such that even in death the power of what they felt can be felt by everyone around them. What I mean to say, is that Aurangazeb deliberately flouted his father's careful planning to do what turn the Shah's legacy into what exactly men in power were expected to do, establish their supremacy, notwithstanding any previously existing structure. To analogize this to Indian politics, recalls the dissonance that the Dalit movement has with post-Independence nationalism. The purpose of the reservation policy is thus obscured a general reluctance to acknowledge their legacy of oppression and discrimination. Without this acknowledgment, reservation policies will continue to inspire criticism.

On the road back to Delhi I saw something that I found as evocative, but for different reasons.
I had started to drift off as the sun was setting over rice fields. I have never seen the sky look this way. The sun was about the size of my fist in the sky and was a strong gold-red. It looked like it was burning through low clouds on its way to the horizon. I can't help but make a comparison here to lasting change for the Dalit movement. True change is hard won, but it nothing ever changed, nothing would ever happen.

Taj Mahal!

Today, Camila Ehi and I took a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. We were all incredibly excited about going, and were definitely not disappointed with our experience. The architecture was stunning, and the well-maintained structure of pure white marble with insets of real raw gem stones to make up the floral decorations on the structure of the building were both beautiful and astonishing in their uniqueness and probably progressive for their time. The gardens surrounding the monument are beautiful, and the relative quiet and peaceful nature of the entire complex added to the charm and surreal nature of actually being present at one of the greatest architectural wonders of the world.
Having a chance to enjoy one another's company outside the setting of an academic conference was liberating, although we managed to continue to talk about race and gender issues in the context of the people and environment around us. As one example, Camila mentioned that she hadn't seen any women passengers on motorcycles/scooters who were ever wearing a helmet- but there were male passengers who often did have such protective headgear. We wondered if it was perhaps a vanity deal, but even so, it seemed unfortunate and a little suspect that we couldn't find a single helmeted female passenger during our days in Delhi or on our 8 hour roundtrip journey today.
Early tomorrow morning, we leave for Ahmedabad to hopefully spend almost a week doing more hands-on field research among the rural villages of Gujurat. I'm looking forward to our next experiences in the very near future, but I will remember Delhi fondly. I have truly enjoyed the time we have spent here and will miss everything from our kind and hospitable staff at the guesthouse where we are staying, to the amazing simple homecooked food provided here, to the exposure we have had to different organizations working towards combating discrimination against Dalits in Delhi as well as all across India. It's only been six days, and this has already been an amazingly eye opening and transformative experience for me on both an academic and a personal level- I can't wait to see what happens next.

Succumbing to Relaxation

For the past few days, I've been trying to operate on a New York time schedule here- always needing to have a plan ahead of time, annoyed by time that was wasted when we got lost in the city on the way to meetings, and not be able to handle abrupt changes in schedule that led to me constantly cancelling on plans to meet with family and friends in the city. However hard I tried, I could not make Delhi and India mold to be receptive to my desire to always be doing something productive on a strict time table.
Yesterday, we finally decided to give in and go with the flow. Ehi spent the day working in the sunlight of the lobby of our hotel, occasionally watching all the people who walked in and out of the building during the course of the day. We lingered over lunch, savoring the spices, talking about our trip, and getting seconds on everything. In the afternoon, we headed to a beautiful outdoor market, with individual stalls selling all kind of items from shawls to wooden elephants to cotton tunics to decorative purses, and spent hours wandering and bargaining for items for ourselves and friends.
Most importantly, we took everything in stride. When the bank at the market was closed for lunch, instead of being irritated, we held hands as we managed to cross the busy intersection and start looking for a money changing location. It turned out to be very fortunate for us, because we found a place next to a luggage stall where Ehi purchased a much-needed suitcase as well! When Ehi and I were stuck in heavy evening traffic for two hours last night, instead of getting upset about the wasted time, we leisurely sat back and napped for the trip, waking up at the guest house refreshed and ready to tackle our work for the rest of the evening- after we ate of course.
By simply giving in to the reality of the laissez-faire nature of the community around us, I was finally able to relax, (temporarily) discard my desire to schedule everything in my life, and truly begin to appreciate and enjoy the pace of the culture around us. Perhaps this is another aspect of our trip that is important to realize: the general atmosphere of the community around us, and how it shapes the questions we continue to ask about the intersectionalities of race, gender and caste.

Far From Home and Loving It

Hello All,

This morning I woke up with a wry smile on my face after yesterday's emotional fallout. I realized that, yes this was a foreign country and yes, I was more than likely the first black woman these men and women had ever seen. I realized that while yes, I had been in this uncomfortable position many before, I was thousands of miles from any place I had even tentatively called home. Yes, I was frightened, angry and tired. However I realized something else: This dissonance was giving me an opportunity to harmonize the dissonance in my relation to my environment both internally cognative and externally social. I had never learned to accept the terms of my immersion in a new culture and the significance it would have on each fragment of my identity. In one encounter I had to reconcile that past with the collision of my identity as not only "the only black woman here" but as just being here. To say it simply, I had to stop defining myself in terms of what I was not--but to accept that my identity is and has always been whole. Looking back at this experience I am grateful for it.

It made me recognize that there is a difference between who I am wholly and what is highlighted in any particular context. So while in Delhi I am aware of myself as a woman, a minority, and a student. Rolling over in bed, my smile grew wider as I realized that I was also a tourist. We New Yorkers have a complicated relationship with tourists; though we regard them with disdain we each secretly wish we too could amble down the street on a weekday afternoon slack jawed and spending money eagerly.

If I am a foreigner as a result of being a woman, a minority, and a student then I am a tourist as well!

Today we were lucky enough to have enough time to discover that a wistful smile and headshake do have a universal translation. At the end of the day, one stall the vendor motioned me back over to hand me a free gift-she took my hand in hers and stacked a series of small pink bracelets over my wrist smiling the whole time. They are beautiful--they clink when I shake my wrists and have tiny mirrors that twinkle in the light. I had meant to ask Noopur why she gave the to me, but shrugged it off. After all it didn't really matter why -- I have had a peaceful day and it was a pleasant surprise. Towards the end of the evening, however , my curiosity got the better of me and I asked Noopur what she thought. She looked up and said "She wanted you to know that Indians could be nice."

I think I can