Discrimination

I have grown up with the luxury of never having been discriminated against for the color of my skin, my sexual orientation or religious views, etc. The only sense in which I am a minority is that I am a woman and I have personally felt that this has not been a huge (if any) hinderance to me. (I know that this paragraph alone might cause great debate but I urge you to keep reading and get into semantics later.)

It was not until I reached India that I gained any appreciation for what it might be like to be discriminated against for the color of your skin. Here, the way I am treated by a large percentage of the population is largely dictated by the fact that I am white. Because I am white the immediate assumptions are I am: 1) rich (which I am not), 2) naive (which I might be) and 3) to be taken advantage of (which infuriates me).

In the past week I have been closely examining myself and my own emotions in relation to the (different) way in which I am treated. Perhaps the worst thing about India, or the thing I loathe most, is the fact that I can't get an honest deal on anything...ever. The minute I am seen is the minute the price shoots up by 5 or 10 times the amount it would be for anyone born here. I go to join a gym and the price is 5,500 Rs per month (about 110US$). I have my roommate who is Telugu call them and she gets a price of 1,300 Rs (about 20 US$). I try to buy food at the market and one cucumber costs $2. Someone else goes out and gets it for 25 cents. The examples are limitless but the point is not really in the examples.

The point is that I am beginning to understand how and why something like discrimination breeds anger and frustration and eventually rage. Why...because these things make me angry and frustrated. I am angry that false assumptions are being made about me (and my wealth, etc) and frustrated by the fact that I can't seem to find someone who will give me an honest answer to anything and I fell rage toward myself for feeling these things as well as toward the people who are doing them.

Then I find myself thinking back and imagining what it must have been like to have been African-American during Jim Crow laws or even now. Or how it must have felt to be Japanese-American after the bombing at Pearl Harbor when the internment camps were formed. The examples are likely endless but the feelings of helplessness are the same.

I feel helpless and exhausted by this experience which repeats itself everyday and which will continue to repeat itself everyday while I am here. Perhaps the saving grace is that I, unlike others, have individuals like my roommate who are willing to negotiate gym fees for me. These people become guardian angels as they allow you to navigate this culture. These are the people which allow you to love the culture despite the fact that you can't get a fair shake.