UNCONSCIOUS EXCLUSION
In this stream-of-consciousness style of blog posts, I ramble about some of the more unconscious ways in which we might be excluding certain communities, ideas, and thoughts. Every opinion is worth hearing. We fall prey to existing societal rhythms that may be unknowingly exclusionary, and I challenge you here to at least think about them, and maybe take away something you didn’t know before.
In high school, I knew that there were some differences between what food was normally on my plate, compared to what other students brought for lunch in my international school classrooms. I remember bringing bringing dishes like a Khurra (a goat legs preparation) or laal bhaji (a leafy bush that’s blood-red in color, which is an ‘unpleasant’ color), and people being very confused with the kind of food I would bring. Over time, I became conscious and told my mother to give me chhole or idlis instead - since those are dishes everyone recognized, and in a weird way, I felt an unforeseen acceptance.
Every time I go back to India, I notice monumental changes. Whether it is the change of the name of a railway station I grew up around, or a new debate on beef vs. no beef in my state, I have almost gotten immune to the repeated efforts that have been made to erase or control most of our complex history. However, in recent years, with the rise of the middle-class Hindu family, I’ve also noticed a rise in this weird pride (not sure what the right term is) of being a discriminatory vegetarian. On my most recent trip, I was in Mumbai talking to a real estate developer, and it was almost lunch time. He proudly told me, “I make sure that there is a separate vegetarian room for my colleagues- so that meat and poultry is completely segregated… we want our veg colleagues to know the food they eat is pure". I also saw a lot of neighborhoods around me adopt strict vegetarian-only practices; banning non-vegetarian restaurants altogether, or advertising pseudoscience around meat-eaters being disease-spreaders.
Don’t get me wrong- there is nothing wrong with being vegetarian. It is better for the planet, and arguably maybe even better for one’s health. There is also nothing wrong with being vegetarian to adhere with one’s religious or moral beliefs. There is a huge problem, though, the moment you discriminate a non-vegetarian in a way that is reminiscent of caste-based segregation; which is what I meant by this term of being a discriminatory vegetarian.
For some basic context, every community in India has a different relationship with food. This is because of historic access and control. Ragini Kashyap elucidates this very well in her essay on caste being the “main character of Indian food”. She explains how the current version of vegetarianism is a politically manufactured idea that only came in much later in the general history of Hinduism. Regardless, the fact is that the lower down you go on the caste ladder, the poorer you get- which means access to leaner protein like chicken or fish, and good-quality dairy or vegetation becomes incredibly unaffordable and even unsustainable. The Dalits, the lowest rung on the caste ladder, are often forced to eat whatever they can, and innovate with the limited ingredients they have access to- mostly herbs, scrubs, and uncommon sources of protein. For example, the term Jhootan (a word that we use so easily) is actually a political mechanism created by the upper-class to serve Dalits leftover foods and scraps. Other religions in the country also generally do not adhere to vegetarianism.
As you can see, food and caste have a deeply interlinked history in India (and elsewhere). It helps to think of this relationship by constructing a separate social identity for Indians- what I call as their ‘food identity’. One’s food identity is their personal preference of food- what they would want to eat, what days they’ll eat something on, what days they won’t eat something, what they will never eat, etc. I don’t mean this to be a dietary restriction, like being pescatarian or gluten-free. I mean this in the sense that I’ll not eat chicken on Tuesdays, or I won’t go to a restaurant that serves meat, or I won’t eat xyz food- it goes into the realm of personal preference over restriction. I’ve found this to be a helpful way for myself to be more aware of who I am dining with, so that I am more mindful of the differences and similarities between us. No one in America really talks about their ‘food identity’, but in India, I feel like one’s food identity is sometimes almost bigger than one’s own identity.
Some people are extreme with their food identities. We saw this most recently with Zomato’s (Indian food delivery app) move of having delivery workers who deliver pure-veg food wear green, and everyone else wear red. All vegetarian packages will be labeled and packaged separately in green, and everything else will be in red. There was even a plan to have an almost separate app experience for vegetarian users, such that they won’t even come in contact with restaurants serving any meat. While this may seem like an insignificant change in a country where over 60% of people are vegetarian, it actually propels the same unconscious exclusion of the diversity of our foods to put vegetarian foods first. Post this roll-out, proud landlords in even ‘tier-1’ cities like Mumbai were able to easily spot tenants who ordered non-vegetarian food (since delivery workers for them wore red), which threatened an almost unintended ‘coming out’ of their identity. With most upper-class Hindus being the majority vegetarian population, the tenant is most likely either lower-caste, or non-Hindu - identities that many people spend decades hiding or running away from.
I think that there is nothing wrong with whatever food identity you choose to have; but as an educated citizen, you at least need to be aware of the history and context of the food identities other people have around you.
For example, having your colleagues sit at a different table because you cannot handle the possibility of meat in an office environment- is a direct exclusionary practice. Most of these meat-eating colleagues are probably lower-caste, or minority populations that have historically relied on meat and dairy to support their nutritional needs. Another example- proudly claiming a product is dipped in ghee over something made with animal fat (because we’ve been conditioned to think of ghee as a pure source of fat for generations. Little do we think of how expensive ghee is, and how restrictive this practice is for poorer communities, or communities that simply never had ghee in their diets). On the other hand, supporting a friend’s increasing plant-based diet while understanding the history they bring with their food is a healthier, non-discriminatory way of making your point. From a nutritional and physical standpoint as well, this discrimination tends to favor the majority diet profile- with get-thin-fast diet plans and macro structuring centered around the idea of incorporating leaner and greener protein rather than a balanced approach. What effect does this have long-term on people’s bodies?
Another point I wanted to talk about was the difference between regional diversity and communal diversity with food. Regional diversity would mean something like having a restaurant that caters to Maharashtrian or Andhra food, in a world dominated by Punjabi and North Indian cuisine. On the other hand, communal diversity would mean celebrating a particular community’s food- like the Bombay Kolis, or the Dalits- and honoring that heritage. Some of the most popular restaurants in the world - like a Moti Mahal, or a Dhamaka, often do the regional bit right- they are able to elucidate the rich culinary diversity of our food from different regions. But when Mumbai street food becomes limited to a Pav Bhaji and Chaat, you are quite intentionally ignoring the fishermen community and their fried anchovies, or the kebabs from Mohammad Ali Road, or the steaming hot thalipeeth from a Marathi cafe. Not recognizing these pluralities can lead to an extinction of these foods. Even though ‘Mumbai’ street food has gained so much recent popularity, it will not be until there is more community-level diversity that the threat to this extinction will be reduced.
Cookbooks are another example of this unconscious exclusion. While it can be argued that there simply isn’t enough cookbook literature from minority communities (a thought I argue can be easily challenged), the truth is that it simply doesn’t sell. Cookbooks are an important written asset passed across generations and are essentially a legacy of a society’s culinary history. Unfortunately, with the average consumer’s limited lens to Indian food, the cookbooks and recipes accessed stay limited- and this limitation propels what we eat, talk about, and serve in our homes. It endangers our food and restricts it, like with the Mumbai street food example I gave above where you limit an entire city’s history to a couple of catchy food items that everyone is aware of.
A sample menu from Dhamaka, one of the world’s most famous Indian restaurants. Is this really the forgotten side of India? What message do we send with such language becoming more commonplace? The forgotten side of India is not an exotic dish from each state- it’s so much more.
The point of this essay is to make you understand that caste is ubiquitous. Ask yourself: How can I be more welcoming and aware of the commentary I might make on someone else’s plate? One’s food preferences must never be shamed. And finally, do not confuse regional and communal diversity- while some foods may never become mainstream, an awareness and curiosity around their existence is the first step to conscious inclusion.
NEXT IN UNCONSCIOUS EXCLUSION
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References
Oh wow, this really opened my mind up to something I had never considered before: the role caste has played in establishing dietary practices. I was born and raised vegetarian - a lifestyle I never thought may be unaffordable or unsustainable to many. The points you brought up in this essay remind me of some of the arguments I have seen in favor of sustainability in the fashion space - for ex: shopping from a fast fashion brand is looked down upon due to how wasteful the production of fast-fashion clothing is. But we often fail to consider that it may be the most affordable option to someone working a minimum-wage job, or an investment to someone who genuinely enjoys…