Orientation was an exhausting but extremely rewarding week, highlighted by bonding with the BIF cohort, Bharatanatyam dance classes, and multi-hour lectures while fighting jet lag and sleep deprivation. The nerves of embarking on a year-long journey to a foreign country were subdued by the warmth of the group and our collective intention to be present in this experience together. It was a pleasure to get to know everyone, and it was frustrating that less than a week had been allotted before we had to leave for our host communities around the country. Throughout the year, we will have two other in-person program-planned conferences, but an unofficial cohort trip to Goa is already planned.
As one of the Fellows placed in Delhi, my travel to my host community was shorter than most, and yet Delhi rush-hour traffic is no joke. I took a cab to the hotel where I would stay for the next few weeks until I found a more permanent home. The hotel was near my work and in an area I had explored briefly last time I was here. Before settling in for the night, I wanted to step out to see the area and pick up some things I needed. One unfortunate shortcoming of Orientation was the non-stop schedule, which kept us from seeing much of the city, so this was my first real opportunity. I pinned the nearby ATM as my destination and targeted a few must-have essentials— masala-flavored Lays chips and an ice cream sandwich from the Mother Dairy stand nearby.
I left the hotel with confidence, with my head on a well-oiled swivel, and an eagerness to absorb this city that I had worked tirelessly to return to. As I scooched my way between tightly parked cars and stepped quickly out of the way of oncoming traffic, I felt like I had everything under control. The charm of this city deserves more credit. I passed many people; some stared longer than is socially acceptable in the US, but it is a regular occurrence here. My general strategy to avoid unwanted queries is to walk with a clear purpose, hold somewhat stoic or uninviting facial expressions, and avoid looking at my phone for too long.
A few blocks out, I passed a group of three men; one put his right hand to his eyebrow to salute me, and another grabbed my wrist with a friendly smile. I smiled back unalarmed but didn’t appreciate his grasp. It’s not unusual to receive attention as a white foreigner, but a grab like this felt different. This was not something I had experienced before, and it was immediately uncomfortable. I stopped walking and told him I was going somewhere. He ignored me and asked me where I was from. I avoided answering, looked him in the eyes, and told him more clearly that I was busy. I gave a nod to signal I didn’t want to speak, waved him off with my free hand, and gently tried to pull away— but his grasp tightened. I looked at him a bit more sternly this time and told him to please let go. His grip tightened again as he spoke to me in Hindi. I could not understand much, but his tone was short and abrasive, and I began to feel threatened. He asked where I was from again as one of the other men stepped closer. I looked down at his hold on my wrist and then back at him. Both our demeanours had changed quite a bit as I was visibly uncomfortable and actively questioning the amount of danger I was in. I raised my voice for the second time and told him it was enough, but failed to escape his grasp once again. I’m not sure he understands me, and I definitely don’t understand him. My heart rate spikes, and I inhale deeply. Now, with a much louder voice, I say, “Jaao! Let Go.” This form of the verb “to go” is a commandment. I take a strong step backward, pronate my wrist inward, and strike my arm down with nearly all my strength. I break his grasp and walk away quickly.
As I walked away and began to digest what had happened, I was shocked and frightened. I certainly had never experienced danger like this before in this country. The juxtaposition of feeling so confident and capable, with the sadness of being unprepared to navigate this situation was disheartening. I approached this fellowship with such self-assurance and belief in myself, but only a few hours in and this facade had shattered. Was I in over my head? Is a year here something I can realistically accomplish? The self-doubt was palpable and I was scared.
I began to question what I had done wrong and what I could have done differently. If only I understood what was wanted from me. If only I was less cold initially. If only I told him where I was from the first time. Maybe then I could have avoided all of this. In many ways, this experience has very little to do with the context I am in. This is not an Indian issue. I experienced unwanted and aggressive male attention in a way that made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable, an experience female presenting people face all the time around the world. This is not to equate the two situations, but my initial line of reasoning led me to a personal understanding of the baselessness of blaming the victim. In fact, it was not my fault at all.
With time to reflect and opportunities to share with many native friends, there was nothing ordinary about this interaction. There was no cultural misunderstanding that contextualized his behaviour. In all likelihood, he was drunk or high and/or simply a bad actor. This being said, my whiteness absolutely played a role in the situation. Without it as a factor, he doesn’t notice me walking by, there is no intrigue or curiosity, and there is no assumption of wealth or status. My whiteness also tells people that I am an outsider, that I probably don’t speak the language, that I may not know the correct law enforcement number to call, and that I very likely don’t know my way around the area. In addition to being a privilege in this country— and around the world— it also carries vulnerabilities. And the assumptions are often accurate. I don’t speak the language well, I don’t know the police number off the top of my head (it’s 100), and I rarely have a solid geographic understanding of my surroundings. Although some things will undoubtedly change over the coming months, many things won’t. Being aware of this while taking necessary steps to mitigate these knowledge gaps are the only things I can do to become comfortable and safe here. I will always be an outsider. In some ways, that is what I find so fulfilling about living here. There are daily difficulties and oddities that I never face at home. A mantra I have returned to a few times this month is: I am grateful to be in an environment where I have the opportunity to be challenged. After all, it was the feeling of numbing under stimulation that pushed me so eagerly back here, so I must do my best to cherish the often overstimulating nature of this magnificent city.
To return to my first night, I did accomplish my goals. I found the ATM, the masala chips I had wanted for two years, and I grabbed a sweet frozen treat before safely returning to my hotel— albeit startled by my own shadow a few times. My practical goals were met, and I think symbolically, this night embodies my perspective moving forward. The challenges are inevitable. They are not due to my failures or shortcomings; they are an inherent part of living in a place that is not your own. They will also not be my undoing. I will continue past the unpleasantries and discomforts, and I will settle in. I will learn to navigate difficult situations and adjust to this beautifully hectic and engrossing city.
