Being the exotic one
February 24th, 2008 at 9:03 am (fashion, india, travel)
In my years of studying critical race and postcolonial studies, there has always been this lesson: humans are not exotic birds - do not call them exotic and do not treat them as such, either. In short, it’s just not cool.
In southern India, so far, it has most certainly been me who is treated as the exotic one. The dreads/tattoo/piercing combination generates a ton of stares, best when accompanied by a smile, but more often linked with a certain straight-faced frowning that I’m unable to decipher.
I’ve watched my reactions to this sort of attention - a combination of hilarity, annoyance, boredom, tolerance, avoidance, laughter. I do my best to use it as an opportunity to connect, even if briefly, with the said starers. When it works, it’s golden. Smile or not, rarely do I get questions about it - the men typically don’t talk to women and the women don’t seem to talk to anyone as far as I can tell. This is a broad (most likely inaccurate) generalization, but it’s been my general experience so far.
There have been some lovely moments to break that mold though. Trix and I got onto the train two nights ago for another, um, adventure that is the second class sleeper overnight rail system. We were exhausted, having wandered around Madurai all day, avoiding scammers, purchasing a 25 pound elephant (don’t ask), visiting a Hindu temple and a Catholic church (which I had been hoping would have images of Christ and Mary that weren’t pale white European, but I was sadly disappointed), you get the picture. This man sees us and asks where we’re from (which is an entirely normal question we are asked at least 10 times a day). He answered, the guy left, we settled in. The guy returns with his whole family - mother, wife, son, two daughters, and the 12 year old or so daughter asks if she can do some mendhi on my hand. I first refused (it’s so easy to put up walls in fear of scammers), but then luckily reassessed the situation in the moment and told her sure, why not. And I’m so glad I did - they were fantastic, warm, welcoming, and very much interested in what we were up to. The girl doing the mendhi was hilarious and the most outgoing of the entire already-super-sociable family. Many questions about the tattoo,. the hair, the septum ring, California, where we were going, all in good humor. And it was a very good reminder to practice a good balance of open and guardedness, being able to take risks while assessing situations in the present. Good lessons.
These are the sorts of moments that carry me through the weirdness, discomfort, or annoyance of other situations - like being followed (with increasing menace) by a shady scammer while walking towards our hotel. Not sure if the good outweighs the bad, but it at least balances the experience. And really, the good stuff is what sticks, so I’m thankful for that.
I’m also thankful for the elephant giving blessings at the temple in Madurai. Please note that an elephant blessing entails this: getting bonked on the head by the elephant’s trunk. It is fantastic. If I didn’t hate the entrapment of these beautiful creatures (they keep them with chains around their ankles, with shit work to do in the city, awful), I would’ve gotten a blessing without any hesitation - it was that awesome.