Racism

My experiences here in South Asia have given me a new perspective on the issues of racism. This is largely because, for the first time in my life, I am living and working in an area where I am part of a racial minority.

And it isn’t easy. I came here already having the expectation that I would never be able to blend into a crowd. When I walk down the street, heads turn. Eyes follow me wherever I go. Sometimes I can simply ignore it, but it's harder when the stares turn into pointing, giggles, whispered comments, or even catcalls.

Sometimes it’s useful to stand out in a crowd. I’m easy to find if I get separated from my group on the trains. I’ll admit, on some occasions I’ve enjoyed the privileges that my skin color brings me in this culture—for example, I’ve been able to walk around fancy hotels that I’m not staying in with no questions asked. Once, a rickshaw driver chose to take me on as a passenger instead of someone else who got there first, and I accepted, not wanting to fight the crowd any longer.

But honestly, sometimes it’s exhausting. There’s days where the thought of leaving the safety of my apartment to face the sea of stares is just overwhelming. Even walking down to the corner grocery store becomes more of a chore when I think about all the different reactions I may receive because of my foreign-ness. I’ve become an expert in facial expressions. There’s a clear difference between a curious stare and an uncomfortable stare; between a kind smile and a nasty smile.

I have to remind myself that usually the people staring at me aren’t trying to be rude (I realized this when I caught myself staring at other white people). Their “racism” toward me is a natural action of seeing something (or someone) that is out of the ordinary. They probably didn’t even notice they were doing it. They just saw something unusual, looked on curiously, and then went about their day. But their action, no matter how unconscious or innocent, made me feel uncomfortable. And, from my perspective, that’s something that matters to me. Even if they don’t think they’re doing anything wrong, I was negatively affected by their actions.

It’s not bad all the time. There’s good days and bad days, good places and bad places, good people and bad people, just like you’d find in any other country. And there’s definitely been a good outcome: I now have a different perspective on racism, both abroad and at home.

Living as a part of a racial majority my whole life, it was difficult to imagine what life must be like for those in a minority. I could conceptually imagine the everyday difficulties of being a racial minority, but I couldn’t really understand what it was like. I didn’t have the experience. But now I’ve begun to think harder about what life is like for minorities in the U.S. The thing is, my own experience as a minority isn’t even close to what their experience is like: even my “minority” status here is one of privilege. American culture and appearances are often seen as an ideal in this part of the world. What must it be like for someone who’s minority status is often seen as one of less credibility, not more?

This is something I want to remember when I head back home to my comfortable world, once again a part of the racial majority. I don’t consider myself, or really anyone I know, to be “racist.” But now I can understand from my own experience as a racial minority that actions taken by individuals and communities can be legitimately “racist” in their effects, even if it was not intended that way at all.

When I hear people a part of a racial minority talking about their struggles, I don’t want to brush it off as illegitimate. I want to remember how difficult it is to be a part of a minority, and not take for granted the enormous privileges my skin color has given me. I hope to use some of that privilege to work for changes that makes life better for everyone.