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Have you ever had a conversation that starts out mundane and then transforms into something bigger than yourself? These kinds of conversations don't have a finite ending; instead, modern life enforces a kind of superficial one so that you can move on. These are the issues have been around for ages, and will only cease to exist when people find worth in working towards a far-sighted goal.
I had a great conversation with one of my fellow interns, whose name I will keep anonymous out of respect. Her pen name will be Priya so that I don't have to keep refering to her as a proper noun. Wide eyed, chubby cheeks, and always a glint of childlike excitement in her eye, she was different. Born and brought up in the Middle East (Muscat), she developed a foundation of liberal minded thinking that so greatly separates the East from the West. She is a Food Science intern, but also enjoys reading, writing, movies, photography, and philosophy. It's always refreshing to meet people that appreciate both science and art and don't see them as two opposing things - A balance between the left and right side of the mind - A balance that gives you an open perspective to tackle any issue. This kind of liberal thinking makes a person humble enough to speak to a servant, a president, and their own mother in exactly the same way - without prejudice and preconceived notions.
It started out ranting about professionalism. The head manager of packaging had messaged her on Facebook saying "I added you because I like it, accept it if you like it." A bit strange, and unsettling in my eyes, but Priya knew what this meant in the context of Indian culture. She knew for a fact that this meant he was hitting on her, and immediately responded with a short and blunt message, followed up by blocking him. Days later, Priya told me that her suspicion was confirmed. One of her seniors said he had talked to this manager, and he wanted to apologize for coming across as aggressive, and that he only did it because he really liked her and didn't want her to get the wrong message.
Priya was furious. Get the wrong message? You're a manager and I'm an intern. You think you have the entitlement to hit on me and justify it by saying you really like me? What is this, a Bollywood movie? Love at first sight doesn't exist and these are all poor excuses for your unprofessional behavior.
I agreed. It was a messy situation. More importantly, it was embarrassing that this manager was telling his co-workers about his failed mack attempt. After being blocked on Facebook, he should've pretended it never happened, not drag it out with the glint of hope that Priya would understand his "sincere gesture." I am not sure who I felt worse for. The poor Priya that felt uncomfortable working in the same room as him, or the poor moron with no sense of professionalism or swag.
The conversation developed from there into a larger one about the unprofessionalism in India. Teachers answer your question if they are in a good mood, like you, like your caste, and/or you fulfill any other prejudice of theirs. One teacher responded to a question once with, "Don't worry about it. You'll be in the kitchen soon anyway."
Priya was in the zone. Unprofessionalism in the work place transformed into inhumane social justice. She began explaining to me her two-year college relationship. She had moved to India for college and was immediately turned off by the way social rights were handled on every level. She became a hermit, keeping her frustrations to herself, fearing that if she spoke her mind she would be silenced immediately.
Her relationship started out as most do, full of excitement and joy, maybe even a bit of salvation away from her formerly isolated social life. He became her home in college, a rock she could trust. After some time passed, he asked the inevitable question that young men have: when would they be sleeping together? She explained that she wasn't ready. For the next few months he hit her, pinned her down, and attempted to rape her. This went on for an extended period of time because Priya was vulnerable, lonely, and had low-self esteem after coming to a new country.
When she told these stories to her few close friends in the hostel, they supported her emotionally, but not one suggested that she should report it. After all, was it so bad that he had done this after months of dating her? Shouldn't she have expected it? Why didn't she just do it? These were the anticipated reactions from police, parents, and society. Not to mention the concept that rape makes a girl impure and an invalid candidate for marriage.
The conversation came to an abrupt ending when my boss walked past me, reminding me that I had a meeting with him. Okay, yeah, talk to you later! We acted as if our light gossip had ended, but looked at each other knowing we were on the same page.
For a Modern Western Workaholic and Feminist, these social conditions are absolutely horrific at best. Used to a culture of action and reaction, accepting these inefficient and corrupt systems is asking for a miracle. Both Priya and I are passionate about these issues because we have seen our own countries giving people the right to empower their life, {in the U.S., regardless of gender, race, color, sexual orientation, status, etc. A bit less understanding in the Middle East}
People that are born and brought up in India recognize these problems, but have long resigned themselves, and instead focus on education to improve their own lives. While I cannot blame them, it is vital that people see the injustice that goes unpunished so that changes can be made. Whether the manager, teacher, or her boyfriend, these men were not shunned by society for behaving disrespectfully to Priya. Instead, silence affirms their actions, which propels them further. For example, today three managers stood in front of my desk, whispering and staring directly at me with a smirk. The other girls saw it and just scoffed in dismay. I stared back at the three men for a period of time signaling that I was not afraid of them and nor would I let them treat me like an object. Not phased by my reaction, they continued to stare. What kind of incentive does this give me to come to work? To feel sexually harassed by the people that are supposed to inspire me?
Every encounter I have ignites the revolutionary within, pleading for justice, begging for progress, and hoping for change. Channeling my frustration into writing is the best way I can articulate my thoughts to audiences: moves need to be made, words need to be said, we cannot remain silent. How do we expect to improve a country and our society as a whole if the fundamental thought is still so backwards? Should girls like Priya be silenced when such awful events happen? Should people of a country be so apathetic and passive that they don't react to an oppressive and abusive governmental system?
I can go on about this forever. But as I've already said, modern life puts an artificial ending on these conversations, so a person can move on with their life. This is the first of many long social justice posts in a dialogue that should never cease to end.
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