Vishal Bhatnagar/NurPhoto/Getty Images
Dalit women attend a conference in Jaipur, India, on the eve of the annual B.R.R. Ambedkar Jayanti celebrations.
CNN
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Editor’s note: Shreeja Rao is a law student and journalist who has contributed to various media outlets, including The Guardian and The Times of India, and is also a Member-elect of the US State Department. Madeleine K. Albright Young Women Leadership Program. The opinions expressed in this commentary are her own. Further comments On CNN.
I come from the Dalit community in India (population approximately 200 million), a community that suffers from the poorest health, lacks access to clean water and sanitation, and has been denied education and employment opportunities for centuries. Dalits were once referred to derogatorily as “untouchables”, a term that is understood to have a derogatory meaning today.
Sankul Sonawane
Shreeja Rao
Dalit women in my community are doubly oppressed by caste and gender. For example, women from my community are the most vulnerable to sexual violence in India. But it is a mistake and an oversimplification to say we are limited only by misfortune. The experience of Dalit women is unique. We experience joy in many different ways in our daily lives.
Our reality is far more complex and encompasses much more than the casteist gaze that fetishizes our pain and reduces our culture to oppression. Dalit women like me have been bound together by an interwoven sisterhood for as long as anyone can remember, and long before that. Although atrocities against us continue to be perpetrated as part of India’s age-old hierarchical structure, we refuse to be defined solely by our pain and oppression.
“You don’t look Dalit” is a phrase I and many successful women from my background have heard at least once in our lives. It is an ignorant statement fueled by the caste-influenced belief that Dalit women are defined by their perpetual state of oppression, even their appearance. Social media and the news too often focus only on the violent atrocities committed against my community. The achievements, successes and joys of Dalit women are painfully sidelined.
Yes, there are tragic Dalit stories, but there are others that need to be told – stories of Dalit women who have become lawyers, journalists, policy analysts, engineers, athletes, fashion models, writers, civil servants, musicians. These stories offer examples of upward mobility and escape routes that transformed my life as a young woman and, in the process, my own trajectory.
I think of my mentor, Veena Pallikal, who made history as the first Dalit woman to address the United Nations General Assembly. She has been a role model and inspiration for a long time. Pallikal is a leading policy expert on gender equality and caste justice in India. She once told me that she enjoys hearing about the impact of her work and not just on a big stage like the UN.
She also strengthens the bond within the community by welcoming supporters, such as new mothers with babies who sometimes drop into her office, and by taking Dalits under her wing like me under her wing. She is a perfect example of how Dalit women rely on each other, giving and receiving the care and support to keep moving forward. And she reminds me that Dalit women are not just victims of our identity, but have other possibilities to conquer and achieve in the world.
While atrocities against us continue as part of India’s ancient class structure, my community refuses to be defined solely by pain and oppression. Gaining constitutional rights to equal education and employment has been a major victory and unprecedented freedom in India’s caste-steeped history. Despite the harsh realities faced by members of my community, many have defied the odds and overcome hardships.
As India’s elections come to an end, I can’t help but think about the gains we’ve made through the political process, including anti-discrimination laws that have opened up new possibilities in jobs and education. But these victories have come at a great cost. Ignorant arguments against affirmative action are constantly being spouted, labelling us as disadvantaged. But these gains have given Dalit women greater victories and freedoms than they have ever had before in India’s caste-steeped history.
After centuries of oppression and subjugation, such progress will never be enough. Perhaps some promises were made by politicians seeking our votes. At least just as often, some were broken. It’s a reminder that, in the end, we need to survive on our own, and rely on each other, as we always have.
Without the achievements of other exemplary Dalit women, I would never have believed I could have achieved what I have done – to get into law school early in my career and to become an activist, journalist, and perhaps one day a diplomat. Maybe one day, a Dalit girl or woman will be inspired by my example and find the strength to keep moving forward towards her own goals.
Being a Dalit woman and experiencing joy means: sitting on my grandmother’s lap as a child and listening to her tell mountain-moving stories; watching the only Dalit woman hockey player score a hat-trick at the Olympics, becoming the first Indian woman to do so;
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Joy is topping exams, working towards her dream of becoming the first lawyer in her family. She also goes to a Buddha temple to give thanks on the day her best friend gets a job. She dances in the blue ocean with women she’s never met before on Ambedkar Jayanti, a holiday celebrating the birthday of India’s revered Dalit constitutional leader. On the way there, Joy also sings Bhim Geet, a folk song that praises our leader.
And it brings me joy to see the women of my community representing us on the world stage and be inspired by their courage, because I know that what I am today would never have been possible without the sisterhood I inherited from my community.
Dalit women are insisting on moving beyond the social conditioning that defines our community solely in terms of our suffering. We want to be seen as multifaceted individuals with a rich palette of human experiences and emotions, to have our struggles heard, and our achievements celebrated. Seeing the women in my community find joy in this makes a huge difference.
