One of the more vivid memories of the relatively short time I had spent in the United States as a child was when my mom, dad, and I were walking down the streets of New York one night and my dad suddenly grabbed me by the arm and pulled me closer to him.
He had spotted a couple of African-American men (I’m assuming the “American” part) behind us and instinctively thought that they were posing a danger to his family. But the men simply passed us by and continued to walk their way, chatting amongst themselves.
“Stay away from the blacks,” whispered my father -- in Bangla of course, lest he be thought a racist.
But I doubt if my father’s moment of prejudice was really his fault. This was a man who loved Hollywood movies, who had dragged his five-year-old child to the living room and made sure that the first ever cinematic experience he had was a double bill viewing of The Terminator followed by Predator in all their grimey VHS glory.
Now, this was also time when racism is Hollywood movies wasn’t an issue that was being addressed in any vocal way.
Black characters in movies were mostly gangbangers or wannabe gangbangers, and even though directors such as John Singleton and Spike Lee were trying to change the landscape with their work, the political minutiae of films like Boyz n the Hood usually went over average minds like that of my late father.
He was in it for the action, and, unfortunately, that action was also served with a generous serving of racist stereotypes.
Ultimately, one could say that my dad’s most blatant moment of prejudice was the fault of America itself.
But, of course, my father is not the only -- or even the most egregious -- example of brown bigotry. Us brown folks, we do not need much help when it comes to prejudice. Segregation, racism, shadeism, they are as Bangali as maachh and bhaat.
At a relatively early age we are implicitly taught that anyone with skin three shades darker than yours is inferior to you, all the while our fragile little minds were being bombarded with ads for fairness creams in the papers or in between our after-school shows (which aired on Indian TV channels).
And it’s a mindset that I had bought entirely as a kid: In class I, I remember being absolutely merciless to a fellow classmate because of his complexion, often being joined by other students in my chorus of shadeist bullying.
To his credit, he took it like a champ and, whenever faced by such an onslaught, would simply smile and retort: “Kaalo holo bhalo, shaada holo gadha …”
Words to live by, I suppose.
This is a common experience for us Bangladeshis, the difference being that you’re either on the dispensing end or the receiving end of such discrimination.
Which is why it has been all the more baffling to see so many Bangladeshis (as in those who actually grew up and reside in this country) suddenly becoming more vocal about the issue of racism … in the context of something that happened in another country.
There can be no denying that what happened to George Floyd is anything less than appalling, as the world is presented with further indictment of just how badly the American state is failing its citizens in ensuring equality (a tenet upon which their nation was founded, I’m told); but for brown people living outside the US to “finally wake up” to racism by what is essentially an everyday incident in that country paints a troubling picture.
We are still letting the West dictate what we can care about and when we can do it.
I am by no means trying to discourage anyone from showing solidarity with African-Americans, but the fact that brown folk are treating America’s race problems as the de facto example of prejudice runs the risk of giving further legitimacy to the very binary views of racism that the US has established.
In America, racism is literally a black and white issue, with the experience of any and all other ethnicities often being sidelined as mere footnotes -- and while it is true that the black experience in the US is most definitely the worst of all, that does not necessarily hold true for other nations and other cultures.
The ugly face of racism varies from nation to nation, from culture to culture: Lest we forget, the Rohingya crisis began as an ethnic cleansing operation launched by the Myanmar army before turning into what is essential full-blown genocide.
So, do show solidarity with African-Americans, but do so with the knowledge that the racism that is being carried out in our own backyard, in our own living rooms remains utterly, woefully unaddressed.
Rubaiyat Kabir has been part of the Dhaka Tribune’s Editorial and Op-Ed department, and is currently a contributor.
