Racial stereotyping vs. Identity, is it a really fine line?

The first time I was called “Ghati” was when I entered junior college. Until then, I did not even know what the term meant. Puzzled, and already confused at age 16 with college life, I was stung at the undercurrent of malice. A (a close friend back then but with whom I have lost touch since) laughed at the expression on my face, “C’mon, chill. Ghatis are Marathis,” she explained. Thus began my introduction to Ghatis, Chickoos, Aandu Gundus, Bhaiyyas, etc. After the initial hurt died away, I realized that a derogatory term existed for every section of Indian society. So I was Ghati (can mean an inhabitant of the ghats but used to imply low class) because I came from Maharashtra and spoke Marathi at home. I was also Kobra because I was a Brahmin from Konkan and was vegetarian (again derogatory because Kobras are renowned to be misers and poverty stricken). Some called me Junglee Kutta (wild dog) because I went to an elite private school called JK.

A few years later, as I entered college for undergrad, I became known as a Thaneite or Centralite. Again, in snobbish Mumbai meant to imply low class because, c’mon no one lives that far on the Central line and takes a train to college everyday!

A friend’s mother in South Mumbai said cheerfully when I met her for the first time, “How cute. You are Marathi? The only Marathi people I know are maids.” South Mumbai is inhabited by mostly rich Gujratis who employ Marathi women as maid servants.

And so these terms stuck and new ones were added as I moved from one point in life to another. Whenever someone called me names, I used another right back at them. So my snobbish South Mumbai classmates became townies, Marwari friends became Chicku or baniyas, and South Indians became aandu gundus because we couldn’t understand their languages.

True, we use these terms derogatorily but we also use them to make meaning and build an identity for those who we don’t know. Unfortunately, the identity building is nothing but stereotyping and some would say reeks of racism. “What to do, we are like that only,” is an often-used explanation for less than stellar social norms by Indians. But maybe the time has come when we question many social ills that grapple our society and say no to this blatant stereotyping.

The law will protect but how do you fight social taboo?

A well-respected male member of Indian society recently said, “It’s a mental disorder. They can be treated.” Sigh. He was referring to the Lesbian/Gay members of Indian society. Section 377 may have changed and the community will get legal protection but how do you overcome the deep, social taboo?

Homosexuality is not socially acceptable in India. We may have taken several steps forward by repealing the law but the distance to social acceptance is not only wide, it is also a deep fathomless chasm. Everyone is guilty of it, including the so-called liberated, and educated, hip youth. I remember ribald jokes about two professors in college who happened to live together. No one attempted to find out the truth behind the rumors but each time one of them had a class, sniggers and name-calling began. Little did it matter that both were excellent teachers.

I am told that in some parts of the country, if a woman is still single at 35, and is also highly successful professionally, people automatically assume that she is a lesbian. What an insult to both lesbian and straight successful women. It is as if society needs to justify both the choice to remain single and the gall to be successful.

Some of the finest minds I have met at Harvard are from the LGBTQ community. For ignorant (as I once was) readers that expands to lesbian/gay/bisexual/transvestite/queer. In India, while the LG community has found a voice, the BTQ community remains faceless and voiceless.

Mumbai

For years I have shared a love-hate relationship with this city. I have hated that it took so much out of me just to live. I hated that a commute to work each day took over three hours – three hours I would pine to spend with my son. I hated the filth, the muck, the crumbling infrastructure. I hated the crowds, the flooding every single year. On 26th July 2005, I experienced terror when I was stuck in office through the night and my 70-year old in-laws with my 10-month old son fought against a flooded home. I hated getting crushed in local trains for nearly 10 very long years. I hated having to side-step spit and shit on the footpaths. I hated having to watch the indignity that slum dwellers faced each morning when they did their daily business out in the open.

Yes, there were many things I hated. But there were many things I loved too. I loved the people, the spirit, and the sheer energy of the city. I loved walking down old Bombay, loved looking up at Victoria Terminus. Each time I looked at the Taj, I remembered why it was founded, remembered that it was a slap in the face for British Imperialists who banned dogs and Indians in their hotels. I saw the vision that Jamshedji Tata had, a vision of a proud and free nation. When I walked down the lanes of Hindu colony and Parsi colony, I experienced a sense of peace, a balloon of quiet in the midst of a cacophonous city. I felt safe as a woman, I had no fear when I frequently traveled back home from college or work after midnight. I loved the diversity of people, I loved the fact that I could be alone if I chose to in this city of more than a million. I loved that it let me be “me”, did not ask me to conform, did not ask me behave like the much idolized Indian daughter, wife, daughter-in-law, and mother.

The last four days have been traumatic for me. I saw a place where I grew up, go up in flames. I saw it held ransom by 20 something terrorists. I saw Cama hospital, which cares for the sick and children, held hostage. I saw with bewilderment Nariman House attacked. I saw the Taj destroyed. And my heart broke. Friends have been asking if my family is ok. I feel hollow when I say that yes they are ok, physically. But how do I begin to describe the pain and anguish all Mumbaikars feel? How do you say I am ok when you can see your home assaulted, ransacked, burnt, and destroyed? Mumbai has been raped, there is no other word. And the rapist is this unidentified something! How do we go after this? How do we bring about justice. Yes, Mumbaikars are resilient. Yes, the spirit or economic compulsions bounce them back to normalcy. But how long? How long are we going to put up with the terror? How long are we going to address issues of religious and regional segregation with timidity? Will candle light vigils make any difference? Will peace marches make any difference? When will we get up and take action?

I will be frank, my heart is not large enough to refrain from casting a doubt on the complicity of Pakistan in this attack. Yes, I say this in spite of the fact that some of my dear friends at Harvard are Pakistanis. I say this not because I think they had anything to do with it. The people of Pakistan have very little say in what their Government or military does. They are not a democracy, they do not elect their representatives. They are victims too. I know of Islam as a peaceful religion. I have Muslim friends who couldn't hurt a mouse. But when I hear reports of Dawood Ibrahim living in Karachi, I cannot help but wonder. Why does Pakistan allow a criminal who is supposed be a don of the underworld continue to live there? He is not a religious leader, he has no allegiance to the people of Pakistan, he knows only the language of smuggling, bullets, and bombs.

Maybe I am being naïve, maybe I am a victim of media propaganda. At this point I don't know who to believe. I just know that my home has been attacked.

My heart is also not large enough to forgive the politicians in India. I am baying for their blood. I want them all removed. I want Vilasrao Dehsmukh to resign, I want R.R. Patil to resign. I want the PM to show some spine, not regurgitate speeches written by incompetent aides. And if he can't do something for the people of India, I want him to step down too. I want to know where the taxes I pay go. I want action plans from ministers, I want an audit of what they did when they were in power. I want to know why infrastructure projects in Mumbai are shoddily done, I want to know where the money is gone. I want the bank accounts of every politician to be scrutinized. I want accountability. The politicians are the servants of the public not the masters. I want the people of India to ensure that the likes of Modi and Advani are not elected, that Raj Thackeray never comes to power. I want people in India to remember that we are Indians first. This is our country and we will not tolerate ineptness and incompetence any more. I want a minimum education defined for ministers. When I wouldn't hire an illiterate to run a company how can I hire one to run my country?

I maybe ranting. I maybe in a highly emotional state. But I know not what to do. I just know that my home has been attacked.

My heart is not large enough on another count, I cannot but suspect the complicity of United States in cultivating terrorists in their game to retain supremacy. Yes, I say this in spite of the fact that I am currently in the US, in spite of the fact that I am studying at Harvard. Once again I don't blame the people of the United States. Power can intoxicate and being a superpower must be exhilarating. It must feel good to control the world, have it dance to its tunes.

Now I am definitely ranting nonsense and should stop this post. But I know not what to do. I just know that my home has been attacked.

Teacher disruption

One thing that has struck me is how uncomfortable teachers are with the idea of technology in education. Many of my classmates at Harvard are teachers and those who aren’t technology savvy, view educational technologies as monsters. I was puzzled and surprised by this reaction: come on, at the end of the day, simulations, intelligent tutoring systems, virtual games, etc. are only tools, they are a means to achieve a learning goal. You do use textbooks in class right? Why does a simulation threaten you, but not a book? I realized then that the problem was more fundamental than that. I sense a fear among teachers that educational technologies are trying to replace them. A fear that is not helped by the current economic conditions.

What is unfortunate though is that teachers shun these technologies in the classroom and also refuse to get involved in their design. An involvement that could actually transform some of the current educational technologies to a new level.

An intro for the class of T-561

My name is Shilpa and come from Mumbai, India. I have been working in the field of technology-based education with an Indian e-learning company for the last seven years. I am an architect by education, a writer by passion, and an e-learning designer because an insightful man decided to hire me despite zero qualifications. However, I am now passionate about technology-based learning design and hence the decision to attend this program at HGSE. While I have plenty of experience designing and developing WBTs, simulations, virtual labs etc. (I am NOT a techie), I lack a deep understanding of the nature of learning. I hope to discover answers to tough questions like "How to truly immerse a learner using technology as media? How to look beyond the "wow" factors (graphics, animations) etc. in e-learning and ensure that the student truly learns? I look forward to starting the program this Fall.

By including this url in the class facebook, I now officially declare my world open (!). My natural instinct is to hide whenever I see someone approaching me for conversation and I find it easier to voice my thoughts in print. Hence the title of the blog. This blog has been a comfort during many difficult times, a friend almost, though I still find it difficult to post personal stories in here. However, the blog title will remain "closed world": in a way so many facets of my life are still closed to the world.

For those of you who are interested, the blog title picture was taken in beautiful Coorg in Tamil Nadu, India. And yes it is copyrighted.

Update: I have since removed the picture.

Would you trust a firefighter who did not know how to fight fire?

For firefighters the response would be a resounding NO! But for learning professionals umm…there’s a question? Do we need to be literate about new technologies? Why do we rate the learning profession so low? How in the world can we kid ourselves that not keeping up is okay? Would you trust a firefighter who did not know how to fight fire? Would you trust a lifeguard who did not know the latest life-saving techniques? Would you trust a surgeon who did know the latest surgical procedures? Then why should anyone trust learning professionals who wonder whether they need to be familiar with latest technology?

The truth in Corporate learning is that the learning department is a sham. And it is a sham because we have learning professionals who don’t take their role seriously enough. The LCB questions this month are worrying. Should these be questions? Shouldn’t they be a given?

Learning professionals SHOULD lead the charge around new workplace literacies AND should learn first and then help others in the organization learn. If we do not then we go the dinosaur way…

On my way to Harvard…

During my three-month long SAHM phase, I have been reflecting a fair bit about what made me happy at TIS. Well, there were many things: the people, the informal work culture, the heated discussions about a million sundry topics, and of course the challenging work. So what made me unhappy? Well, the fact that I received little or no training for almost three years. I did get sent to training programs but these were programs I did not really need. And I learnt zilch.

A nagging discomfort troubled me. As a designer I was not designing anything new because I did not know any better. Moments of inspiration and creative bursts were few and far between. Innovation does not come out of nothingness. Unless you feed the brain with nourishing brain food, it is unlikely to come up with new ideas. That’s when I decided that it was time to pull up and do something myself. About this time last year I decided to get a formal academic qualification in the field of technology-based education.

And so this Fall I make the journey to Harvard to get the Ed. M. in Technology Innovation Education. I applied at many universities in the US but getting accepted at Harvard was a surprise: it was the only Ivy League school I dared to apply. Of course now that I am actually going I can’t keep the grin off my face.

Weapons of Mass Digestion

Circa: 1970s something
Leaders from China and India discuss a new weapon that could effectively wipe out the entire world. A weapon so powerful it would make the nuclear bomb look tame. Codenamed WMD, both countries decide to start production immediately. No matter that the production would cause irreparable harm to the birth control policy just instituted across both countries. But as one of the leaders remarked: the birth control policy was mere propaganda to blind the western media.

Circa: 1990s something
Breakfast at Shri Bharat’s table: Junior Bharat demands chocolate frosted Kellogs. Shrimati Bharat lovingly pours out a bowlful. Better nutrition and “Iron Shakti” you see.

Circa: 2000 something
350 million Indians chomp their way through burgers, pizzas, pastas, chips, biscuits, colas, and sodas. Average life expectancy goes down. Lifestyle diseases and health clubs flourish. Umm! Better nutrition you see.

President Bush reports that world food prices are going up because 350 million people in India are masticating nutritious food.

Ah, WMD released and locked target.

Why must we attach an ethnicity tag to learning?

My gut instinct is to abhor terms like digital natives and digital immigrants, purely because they smack of generalizations. They give an excuse to carry out a less than thorough audience analysis. Learning through a digital medium is just another method of learning, though the possibilities presented by a digital medium are immense and challenging to any learning designer. A digital medium is unpredictable about its effect on a learner. An arcade game may completely immerse one person while completely putting off another. I have only so much patience to play a campaign on Age of Empires, but my husband can play for hours together. We both are supposedly “digital immigrants.” I can read blogs all day, watch videos on TED, look up wikis, and generally OD on Web 2.0 delights but you won’t catch my husband doing any of this. So while we may be digital immigrants in general, our learning (or entertainment?) needs are so different.

So called “digital natives” also exhibit learning differences. Take my six-year old niece for instance. She loves bright colors, loves to paint, read, and make stuff, regardless of the medium. So if she was using the computer, she would rather fiddle with MS Paint, play activity-based games, look at colorful pictures. On the other hand, my four year old son is smitten by the racing bug and thrives on twitch speed games. That’s not to say that he does not enjoy drawing, painting, or any other non-technology driven activity for kids his age. Another nephew aspires to be a Ninja warrior and will sit through anything that has the word “Power Rangers” in it. But this same child writes the English alphabet and the Marathi alphabet with as much concentration on a no-frills blackboard put up in his room.

The greatest harm one can do is to design by generalizing. Let us not get trapped by attaching learners with tags that may be too heavy a burden for them. The greatest good that we can do as learning designers is to analyze the learner thoroughly, study the different media available for enriching the learning experience, and then make an honest effort to engage, motivate and immerse the learner.

Bookstores of another kind

Sometime last week I had to kill about an hour and a half while waiting for my parents to finish a visa interview. I had to pick them up at 11:30 a.m. and it was just 10:15 a.m. The shops in Mahalaxmi had not opened yet and so I headed towards Kemps corner. Surely Crossword would be open by 10:00 a.m. But no - even in a place like Mumbai, a city which supposedly never sleeps, Crossword opens at 11:00 a.m. They do not even have the courtesy to put up a board giving store timings at the entrance. There were a couple of other women waiting for the store to open along with me. We hung about until 10:30, hoping that the shop would open by then, until one of the staff members inside the store took pity on us and mimed through the glass storefront that it would open only by 11:00 a.m.

Now that I am a stay at home, I find these pockets of time with nothing to do. Like this Wednesday. After dropping my son to his summer class, I realized I hadn't much to do at home anyway - I had already told the cook what to make for lunch. And so I decided to browse the secondhand pavement book shops at King Circle. What a difference from the Crossword experience! The stall guys were just setting up the stalls and dusting the pavement. However, as soon as they saw me approach, they went all out to woo me as a customer. Shiny pirated copies of the latest bestsellers appeared in quick succession. It took me a while to make them understand that I did not want these. This particular pavement guy was quick to recognize that I was after the original secondhand books and said, "Acchaa, purana kitab chahiye? Baithiye madam. Abhi dikhata hoon." (Oh. You want the old books. Do sit madam. I'll get them.) In a jiffy he fished out a rickety stool from under the stall. Dusting it swiftly, he gestured me to sit on it. Eying the stool with apprehension, I wondered if the stool would take my weight. Sensing my hesitation he said, “Baithiye madam, time lagega.” (Please sit, madam. This will take time.) Once I was seated, he asked the tea stall guy to give me a cup of tea. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and finally I agreed because I did not want to offend him. What happened afterwards can only be described as a booklovers dream. Hidden under a blue plastic sheet were stacks and stacks of secondhand books: P.G. Wodehouse, L.M. Montgomery, Louisa M Alcott, Daphne du Maurier, Georgette Heyer, Austen, Dickens, Agatha Christie, Alfred Hitchcock, Mark Twain…oh, there were so many more…

It was nearly two hours before I had found the books I wanted to buy. In spite of being second-hand books, they were in surprisingly good condition: all original, not dirty photocopied versions. And 10 books for 500 bucks is a super duper deal.