|
Token Human
(Mar 24, 2008)
by Nadia Niaz (republished with permission)
Tell me if this sounds
familiar: you hear of something awful/upsetting/annoying/stupid happening in a
foreign country or a community that’s been in the news a lot. You, in your
wonderfully informed and astute way, watched an ABC special or read an article
about this culture/community in the Economist, both of which are respected
institutions. You might even have worked with this girl who was dating someone
from there once - you know because she brought him/her round for drinks once
and you had a lovely 15-minute chat. So, armed with your indignation about said
event and your vast body of knowledge on said culture, you a) declare your
indignation and/or b) proceed to locate the nearest person belonging to that
culture and demand an explanation.
Yes?
Well I’m tired of being
that chai-colored person you immediately go to for that explanation. I have yet
to meet an Australian who can give me a thorough, nuanced historical
explanation of the political and symbolic importance of last week’s Apology to
the Aboriginal peoples. I have yet to meet an American who can, at the drop of
a hat, explain why Americans don’t want to vote for a woman or a black man and
how the fuck a bible-bashing lunatic who wants to destroy the Constitution is
even being considered as a potential presidential candidate or what the fuck
Scientology is. But then I wouldn’t ask them why their societies are so fucking
racist and sexist and homophobic and downright illiterate. Oh and xenophobic
too. Gotta love that xenophobia.
Why? Because as it happens,
the individuals I know from these countries are not any of those
things. Or, if they are, they’re open-minded enough to challenge themselves a
bit and get the fuck over it. See, I’ve lived there. Sure there’s some
bad stuff, but mostly, I’ve seen good stuff. Decent people, good friends,
intelligent conversation, that sort of thing. If I did have a question
though, you know what I would do? I’d go look it up. I’d go read.
Gosh, I might even watch the news for more than five minutes. And once I’d
figured out what impact, if any, it might have on my life, I’d go do
something else.
Personally, I don’t give a
rat’s ass what you believe, who you fuck, or what you eat. I would appreciate
it, though, if you would extend me the same courtesy. I am not the spokesperson
for all things Pakistani, Muslim, Islamic, South Asian, female, queer,
Pakistani + female/queer, Muslim + female/queer, Islamic + female/queer or
South Asian + female/queer. I don’t care how fucking concerned you are about
those poor benighted savages whose plight you feel so deeply for that you must
make asinine statements about their ‘rights’ and ‘freedoms’ while ignoring
completely that there are people on the ground from those societies
working the asses off to actually make a difference. You have the gall,
instead, to feel sorry that you can’t do more, because obviously,
nothing will ever get fixed until you get your big fat pink ass over there to
really turn them into beggars. Fuck. The angst must be unbearable.
And don’t for a minute
think that this isn’t also addressed to the fucking desi morons who make
equally stupid assumptions about people cultures that they know
nothing about. They pity you folks too, and in much the same nauseating way. Tsk
tsk. All these women having babies by themselves, without even a maid to help.
Poor old man dying alone after raising five children. You know, they put him in
a nursing home! Oh you know them, no families or religion or values or
anything. Wonder how they survive, poor things. Oye stay away from them - you
know they’ll fuck anything that moves. It wouldn’t happen if they’d just get
married when their parents told them to.
The only difference is
whose words get heard more. I have the enviable good fortune of traveling
between these two poles of stupidity. In Pakistan, I’m trying to explain the
big, bad, warmongering, female-exploiting West, outside it, I’m trying to
explain the evil, fundamentalist, female-oppressing Islamist world.
Fuck that.
No I don’t think
America-the-Asshole is right. No I don’t think bloody goat-raping Al-qaida is
right. No, Pakistan is not part of the goddamned Middle East. No I don’t think
there is a Zionist conspiracy. No I don’t fucking cover my head and I never
will. No I am not oppressed. No I’m not gay. No I’m not straight either you
fucking moron. No I wasn’t taught any Islamic creation myths. No I wasn’t
taught that men are better than women. No I do not speak Arabic. No Urdu is not
my first language. No I don’t defer to my little brother, to my father, to my
husband, or to any random idiot male on anything relating to my personal
freedom. No I’m not Indian. No I don’t fucking want your approval for speaking my
first language so well or for being so ‘progressive’. No I’m not ‘exotic’
or ‘fascinating’ (you’re fucking ignorant). No I fucking do not need
to apolo-fucking-gize for being from wherever it is you think I’m from or
whatever it is you think I am.
I do not owe you a fucking
explanation.
|
