Amateur ‘observations’ about social status and skin colour in the Mexican society
I was sitting at a at a bus station cafeteria in Mexico City last week in front of a big screen TV that was playing advertisements. There were several familiar (US/international) brands and products and then a lot brands that were unknown to me. While I sat there for over 30 minutes waiting for my bus and drinking “cafe negro”, a I sensed a distinct pattern emerging from the commercials.
They were all depicting fair skinned models; or showing aspirations to be like them.
Now had this happened in India, I wouldn’t have bat an eyelid. Indian society generally worships the pale skin; this fact is known, accepted and I have, unfortunately, gotten over it. But perhaps it was my innocence and naivety about Mexican society that left me kinda shocked and surprised. I know, its ironical.
In particular, there was this commercial showing an unhappy dark skinned native “Indian” woman wearing a traditional dress, washing clothes in a rural setting. She isn’t able to get the dirt off her fabric. Then comes a blond lady wearing a chic western outfit, bright lipstick, fake Colgate smile and holding a package of some detergent (it wasn’t to clean her teeth I hope). She gives the detergent to the native woman. The cinematography depicted it in a way as if a saint was granting a divine gift – with a halo around the saint and the product, and an expression of “Thank you for coming to my rescue!” on the native woman’s face.
Predictably, the fabric is now free of dirt and the native woman is shown wearing a western outfit, lipstick, fake Colgate smile and is also magically two shades fairer.
While I don’t claim to have any authority whatsoever on Mexican social structure, I did notice that majority of the people are mestizos, i.e. of mixed Spanish and Native descent. Then there are people that look a lot “whiter” and there are people who look quite “darker” but are not necessarily black. While I was wandering in the richer neighbourhoods of Mexico city such as Polanco, the “whiteness” of the place was quite evident as opposed to traveling in second or third class buses in Yucatan where strangely I was probably the fairest guy. So it seems to me that there is certainly some form of economic distortion based on skin colour. That commercial showed everything wrong with the attitude that reinforces the idea that fairer is better – in India, Mexico and several other places.
This is neither a new phenomenon, nor is the world an ideal place, but mainstreaming the adoration of a particular skin tone, or linking it to purity, prosperity and beauty, certainly upsets me.
[photo: florianstamm]
On the new year’s eve, I was walking with some friends around the party blocks along Queen street west, near my house. It was an hour or so before midnight but people were already drunk, yelling and acting funny, but nothing unusual. I’m used to this since I live just outside the nightclub zone.
Around the block were a couple of high-end night clubs. As we approached, we couldn’t but feel the difference in the clientele. A limousine drew in front of us and three young guys jumped out with bottles of liquor in their hands. They looked like teenagers, or perhaps in their very early 20′s. They discarded their bottles of liquor in the backyard of a house because there were some police cars ahead.
As I walked further, I saw four girls getting out of a taxi. They were drenched with makeup, wore shiny tight skirts and high heels. All of them were obviously drunk. Bunch of guys yelled cat calls at them from the window of another taxi. Some verbal exchanges ensued.
Then there were lots of police cars (which was what piqued our curiosity in the first place) at the corner. They had cordoned off the area and were expelling patrons from a nightclub. I felt really really old because everyone around me seemed to be barely legal teenagers or in their very early 20s. They were all obviously loaded and very fancily dressed. Why were they being expelled from the nightclub? Overcrowding? Alcohol poisoning? Drugs? Assault? No idea but anything could have happened in there.
The young bunch was drunk and wild. There was lot of kissing, groping, fondling, hands inside pants and what I would describe as “bedroom behaviour” going on. And for a reason, all the girls appeared drunk beyond control, and the guys appeared sober. Something was unbalanced.
I usually strive to deconstruct gender and dismiss notions of “a man’s job” v/s “a woman’s job.” Hence, incidents like this bother me. Why are girls expected to dress in minimal clothing, wear makeup, uncomfortable shoes, etc. while guys can dress conservatively? Clearly, stereotypical gender roles were at play here – a girl must act as a girl and a guy must act as a guy. Who defined that?
It left me with more questions than answers. What was so cool about this? Is it necessary to stoop so low to get sex? Does makeup really make you look pretty? Do you feel like a “guy” if you are leading a drunk girl to you car? But in a society that labels a girl a “slut” and a guy a “champ”, such things are inevitable, isn’t it? Sad.
Just before we left the scene, we saw a girl in a terrible state. She was barely able to walk in her point heel shoes and I bet she was cold too. She had a cellphone in her hand and was screaming “mom! mom!” while desperately holding on to something so she wouldn’t fall. We were about to help when someone came running to her.
Thankfully only a small portion of the population is involved in this gender-stereotyped nightclub culture. All this made me realise how immature and un-sustainable this “rite of passage” to adulthood was. Or maybe I am just getting old and I see reality differently.
Baba Amte, a leading social worker who devoted his life to the care and rehabilitation of leprosy patients, passed away today.
Murlidhar Devidas Amte, popularly known as ‘Baba Amte’ (‘baba’ is a honorific and his last name is pronounced as Am’tay) was born on December 1914 in Vidharbha, Maharashtra, India in a wealthy family. Educated with a law degree, he setup a successful practice in Warora, and was leading a very prosperous life. One one rainy day, he saw a leper on the street getting drenched in rain and left helpless. Baba Amte thought to himself – ‘What would have happened if I was in his position?‘ This little incident was enough to cause a paradigm shift in his perception of society. The well educated rich professional simply quit his practice and decided to dedicate his life to the cause of social justice.
Leprosy was/is probably the most damned disease in India. Plenty of myths and orthodox beliefs existed around leprosy patients. As a result, they were (and still are to some extent) subjected to severe social boycott and condemnation. Baba Amte devoted his life for the cause of the leprosy affected, even allowing his body to be used for medical experiments. With 14 Rupees, two cows and a makeshift building, Baba Amte and his wife established a community project at Anandwan (आनंद वन abode of happiness) near the woods of Nagpur, Maharashtra, central India.
Today Anandvan is recognised all over the world and has led the crusade for dispelling prejudice against leprosy in India. It has a sprawling campus of 180 hectors and runs a budget of millions of Rupees. Thousands of patients live in this colony.
This is one of his compositions that touches my heart. (I’d be thrilled if someone can translate, I can’t)
Update: Ash has translated the first paragraph, and Devendra has translated the entire poem. Checkout the comments section, thanks guys 
A picture that speaks more than a thousand words.
“Joy is more infectious than leprosy”
- Baba Amte
माणूस माझे नाव, माणूस माझे नाव…
दहा दिशांच्या रिंगणात या पुढे माझी धाव…
बिंदु मात्र मी क्षुद्र खरोखर,
परी जिंकले सातहि सागर,
उंच गाठला गौरीशंकर
अग्नीयान मम घेत चालले आकाशाचा ठाव…
मीच इथे ओसाडावरती,
नांगर धरुनी दुबळ्या हाती,
कणकण ही जागवली माती
दुर्भिक्ष्याच्या छाताडावर हसत घातला घाव…
ही शेते अन् ही सुखसदने,
घुमते यातून माझे गाणे,
रोज आळवित नवे तराणे
मी दैन्याच्या विरुद्ध करतो क्षण क्षण नवा उठाव…
सुखेच माझी मला बोचती,
साहसास मम सीमा नसती,
नवीन क्षितिजे सदा खुणवती
दूर दाट निबिडात मांडला पुन्हा नवा मी डाव…
[संग्रह: ज्वाला आणि फुले]
On October 14th, a newly arrived Polish immigrant died at Vancouver International Airport after being Tasered by the police.
Taser is an electroshock weapon that is used by the police to fire a high-voltage electric shock at the victim in order to subdue his muscles. “Electroshock weapon technology uses a temporary high-voltage low-current electrical discharge to override the body’s muscle-triggering mechanisms. The recipient feels great pain, and can be momentarily paralyzed while an electric current is being applied. It is reported that applying electroshock devices to more sensitive parts of the body is more painful.” (Wikipedia)
Robert Dziekanski, a Polish immigrant arrived at Vancouver, Canada after his first international flight. Speaking only Polish, he was left helpless at the airport arrival lounge for over 10 hours. This left him frustrated, he turned violent, and was left dead when the police fired Tasers at him aiming to control the unarmed man. The whole incident was captured by an eye-witness Paul Pritchard on his camera.
While I strongly condemn the Taser incident there is something in the Canadian society that I think is worth appreciating:
- I respect Paul for handing over the video to the police in order to help the investigations. Note that this incident involved the police, who, were also the investigators of the incident.
- I respect the faith a common man has in the police and law enforcement officers here.
- I respect the fact that the police returned the video back to Paul, fully knowing how humiliating and embarrassing it would be – not just to the RCMP, but to Canada itself.
- I respect the freedom of press here and how the matter is being discussed openly and transparent manner.
- Finally, I respect the fact that the common here man believes that justice will be delivered, despite the police themselves being involved in the incident.
The video is here. Content warning.
Indeed, there are many things we (Indians) need to learn…
Image from CBC News
aka the Fourth Seat
Benches in [tag]Mumbai[/tag]’s [tag]suburban[/tag] [tag]local train[/tag]s have a fundamental flaw. They accommodate 3¼ persons each. Usually the trains are crowded and the entering commuters are on a mission to grab a place to sit. It takes monumental effort to snatch the first 3 places on the bench. But the mission doesn’t stop there. There is an equal urgency to occupy the balance ¼th piece of real estate – the fourth seat, erstwhile known as ‘request seat’. The fourth seat means compromise and submission to constant brushing against outgoing and incoming commuters. And whats worse, you just get to rest your butt partly.
Me standing on the footboard while the train chugs into the next station.
Hypothetical situation: Three passengers are sitting on the bench and there is a tiny strip of empty space.
This [tag]commuter[/tag] enters the compartment and frantically searches for a place to sit.
The meek: Realizes that this is a request seat. Asks the other [tag]passenger[/tag]s politely, “May I sit here?” These kinds are usually senior members, or those who are new to Mumbai and shy.
The frequenter: “Please move, I need some place to sit”. This is considered to be a plain ‘no-nonsense’ request typical to Mumbai. Most of the Mumbaikars belong to this category, and this is a part of their daily life. They know that its not possible to get anything without asking it, albeit he is polite.
The imposer: “Hey, move, I want this place”. The ill mannered consider the half seat as their birthright. They will often enter into arguments with others if they don’t give sufficient space to sit. Many people in this category are those who are some weeks new into the city, or the infrequent travelers.
Now lets look at the passengers who are already sitting on the bench.
The liberals: These people crunch and make space for accommodating the fourth person even before he requests it. Again, they are typical Mumbaikars, who realize that some day they would be the ones looking for a seat. These people are comfortable with ‘The meek’ or ‘The frequenter’. However, the moment they encounter ‘The imposer’, they get converted to ‘The unyielding’.
The reluctant: This group shows extreme reluctance to crunch. They are very lethargic and often the fourth person will have to repeat his request to get some concession.
The impostor: On request from the fourth person, he will make a token gesture of moving. This person is unwilling to cede any space. He is also confrontationist and short tempered.
The unyielding: These are the people who flatly refuse to accommodate the fourth person unless he is ‘The meek’. Often a gang of friends returning after a exhausting day at work fall in this category. They are not interested in confrontations and will simply ignore the fourth person.
Something worth mentioning is that the ‘fourth seat’ exists only in second class compartments. The fourth person can remotely be described as being comfortable, Tapan and full2faltu, write more about it. Vishy describes how the fourth seat is an ignominious position… lol
When I was a little boy, my mother once asked me to wash the dishes.
“It’s not my work”, I complained.
“Fine.”, she said. “It’s not my work either! Should we let the dirty dishes remain as they are?”
That was when I got my first lesson of collective [tag]responsibility[/tag]. My parents brought me up in a way that made me share the responsibility of anything that we did at home.
But that was family. It’s a different story at work.
In the professional world, the situation is complex. A lot of our work depends upon others. If we get stuck at some place, we can either wait for the input, or do it ourselves. Depending on the criticality of the [tag]inputs[/tag], we decide whether to hold or to take [tag]control[/tag] in our own hands.
Often people adopt the approach depicted in the picture. However, I strongly feel that we shouldn’t be over dependent on others for simple tasks such as these. At the same time, if we keep doing others’ work, albeit a minor one, it still has the potential to make that person unaccountable for it, and we would end up owning the responsibility for the same. So, at the end of the day, it’s always safe to say, “Not my work”. Isn’t it?
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