So I’m Indian. It’s obvious (what with my black hair and brown skin and the way I apparently smell like curry), but sometimes people can only settle on “You’re so exotic!” Clearly.
Let’s get to the point, though. I’m Indian, but I’m not in an Indian dance group.
Le gasp. I’m such a bad Indian, right? I tried Indian dance once, when I was 10 years old. I was, well … it was not good. Whenever I tried to dance, I could only awkwardly shuffle what were supposed to be regal gestures and sequences of steps. After a couple of years, my teacher and I reached a mutual understanding that graceful movement would never be in my genetic makeup. So I quit.
Regardless, every year that I sit out of Awaaz and watch my fellow Indians dance gracefully to the sweet sounds of bhangra, I can’t help feeling that I’m a coconut—brown on the outside, white on the inside. That I’m not partaking in the right Indian activities, that I’m not contributing to the proper Duke #DiversityExperience.
That’s right; I’m hashtagging it. Why shouldn’t I? Diversity is a word that has been thrown at me from the minute I came to this school—from the activities fair at Blue Devil Days to T-shirts during orientation week to student groups tabling on the plaza every sunny afternoon. Dance performances! Free food! So many bright, colorful, spicy, delicious opportunities to experience new cultures and partake in #DiversityExperiences!
The issue is, I’m not entirely sure what #DiversityExperiences are any more. I’m Indian, and I live in America. So let’s be real: I was diverse from the moment I popped out of the womb. My entire life is a #DiversityExperience (#getonmylevel).
But that’s not all! Thanks to my Indian heritage, my hair is thick and crazy. I’m forever in search of ways to tame the beast. Recently, I started using shea butter leave-in cream made by Cantu ethnic hair care for natural black hair. The results were stunning. It had hold! It imparted moisture! It transformed my hair from an untamable mass the veritable size of Papua New Guinea to a silky, shiny affair the size of a mere municipality. Regardless—Indian using natural black hair care? #DiversityExperience!
I was the only Indian in my year until the seventh grade. #DiversityExperience. I occasionally listen to K-pop music. #DiversityExperience. I ate falafel today. #DiversityExperience!
The problem here, you see, is that it’s hard to define what constitutes an appropriate and enriching #DiversityExperience. In fact, I’ve only ever heard one clear and concise definition of diversity, and it comes from legendary reporter Ron Burgundy in the movie “Anchorman.” “Diversity,” Burgundy informs us, “is an old, old, wooden ship that was used during the Civil War era.”
His definition is about as wrong as you can get. But Duke’s definition, which I’ve gleaned from all that plaza tabling, isn’t much better. “Diversity” here seems to hinge on something more like multiculturalism for entertainment and show—where different cultures interact and show their most vibrant, beautiful and scrumptious attributes—Indian dance, tribal African fashion shows, hummus sandwiches, Chinese opera.
These are all lovely but are also, in a way, reductive. They allow something like true understanding of multiple cultural values to be reduced to eating falafel and enjoying pretty things that you haven’t seen before. There’s no substance; it’s all show. Eating injera bread and Mesir Wat from Ethiopia while watching a traditional Eskista dance does not impart a comprehensive understanding of Ethiopian culture. But for some reason, Duke’s blanket definition of “diversity” makes you feel really warm, fuzzy, multicultural and diverse when you go to these multicultural events; you’re exposing yourself to an enlightening #DiversityExperience. At some level, I really just think injera is delicious. Not much else.
My problem is that when I engage in this Duke “diversity,” my views aren’t actively being challenged. Awaaz, LNY and Jabulani are always a blast to attend, and I love that this school is home to so many multicultural student groups, performances and events. But when cultures collide, there are radical differences in lifestyle and perspective at play, and, in many cases, irreparable conflicts. Duke’s multicultural activities make it seem like everyone from every culture is getting along swimmingly, and all problems can be solved by beautiful clothes and graceful dance and delicious food, which they absolutely cannot.
Real diversity should challenge you—it should make you interact with people whose perspectives challenge you but also challenge you to challenge your own values and perspectives. Real diversity should not give you warm fuzzies; it should make you feel pretty uncomfortable with the variety of people, cultures and perspectives present at Duke and in the world today.
And so, I challenge you to find this diversity in the people you know and the things you do. Have a discussion. Challenge each other’s viewpoints. Question each other’s lifestyles. Let yourself and others become uncomfortable. That’s how you can form real understanding and real connection. That’s how you can experience real diversity, that of background, identification and perspective.
Indu Ramesh is a Trinity junior. Her column runs every other Friday. Follow Indu on Twitter @IRrationally
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