Responsibility and Privilege

What’s amazing about societal privilege is that it allows a person to bypass many of the restrictions which bind those without it. Whether privilege is good or bad is another debate altogether. The fact is that it exists, in forms and in ways which we may not consciously be aware of.

There’s privilege by way of race, caste, education, languages known, socio-economic background, gender, health, and religious affiliation — and that’s a list that’s just by way of illustration. These different forms of privilege intersect and interact with each other in ways which sometimes make one their beneficiary, and which can seem grossly unfair to everyone who doesn’t benefit from them, especially since many of the existing forms of privilege have very little to do with individual merit.

On the contrary, many forms of privilege often have to do with the circumstances of one’s birth — the family one is born into, the degree of darkness of one's skin, and one’s gender, for example. And within each form of privilege are nuanced strata. The intersectionality which makes a brother more privileged than his sister, even if all other factors are otherwise equal. The intersectionality which ensures that a brother continues to be more privileged than his sister, even if she is more educated than him — all other factors being equal.

Privilege is hard to deal with and difficult to understand. Each form has its own value, and the value of each form can vary dramatically both on a macro scale such as within a culture, and on a comparatively micro-scale: within a family, for example. To know that one is privileged is to recognise that others are not, to recognise one may have been placed in an extraordinary position where many of the societal rules which apply to others simply do not apply to one.

Consider just one of the most “basic” requirements in India — for women anyway: the requirement of marriage. Societal rules may make no room for a woman not in a marriage whether because of not having been married at all, or because of having seen the end of a marriage regardless of its cause — death, divorce, or separation. Nonetheless, the requirement of marriage is considerably diluted by a number of factors including having an education, a source of income, and a high-quality support structure.

Despite this dilution though, it is still extremely unusual for a woman to feel no real pressure to get married from anyone within her own circle; to be able to say without blinking an eyelid that she will not marry unless marriage enhances her life.

To find oneself in a situation of extraordinary privilege can be overwhelming. To know that you may belong to an extremely small minority which enjoy such privilege can be humbling particularly since, with that knowledge, also comes the corresponding knowledge that there are many who don’t enjoy it, who have no notion of such privilege.

The receipt of privilege is rarely attributable to the person who receives it; more often than anything else, the receipt of privilege is a natural consequence of societal structures and mechanisms in operation. To benefit from privilege in itself is rarely the “fault” of the person who receives it, but to abuse privilege and leverage it against people who don’t have it is. With privilege comes responsibility: the responsibility to recognise that one is in fact privileged, and to not use one’s own privilege against others or in competition with others who do not enjoy it.

On Feeling Old and Dated

Reading a personal narrative about the Internet being a reflection of cultural irrelevance for someone at the age of 28 made me think of my most recent round of interaction with people who are much younger than me — and who were not law students in a professional environment, although they were studying law.

I felt old, and inadequate, and completely excluded. Not because, I suspect, anyone was actively trying to exclude me, but simply because I couldn’t for the life of me understand what was happening around me. I didn’t relate to things which were obviously normal for them. I certainly didn’t “get” them — and believe me, I did try.

They were fun, and seemed nice, by and large, although I can’t claim to have known them well. Somehow, almost their entire modus operandi seemed alien to me though. They showed up in a hotel room at late at night — I have no idea what the time was, I was already asleep. What I do remember is that Question 1 from one of them was whether she could intern with me, and Question 2 involved a discussion on getting pot, while drunk in the middle of the night. 

I went back to sleep — to the best of my knowledge, the pot plan which had left me horrified wasn’t followed up on. I left in the morning, much disgruntled and in much physical pain, needing to deal with medical issues, work, and family.

The following day, the law students were still there, and I didn’t understand why, although truth be told, I suspect that what really put me off the moment I saw the first one was that she was wearing the tiniest shorts possible with a jacket longer than her shorts, making it look as if she was wearing nothing at all below her waist.

And all the time that the students were there, they smoked, endlessly. The place gave me the impression of a shady bar, partly because it stank, and partly because my throat and lungs stung and I couldn’t breathe easily — I am allergic to smoke.

It isn’t so much the details of what happened though — it’s that at every single stage, I was stunned. Right from the first moment I heard the internship idea. It’s possible that I simply belong to another generation (mentally, anyway) or that my own circles do things differently or, simply, that I’m as stuck up as it gets.

I understand leveraging connections, I understand using contacts to get internships and jobs. It’s what all of us do. I don’t understand meeting someone for the first time though — without knowing who they are / what they do — and having your first thought be “And how can I use this person?” To my mind, it represents a manifest lack of interest in the person you’re seeking help from as a human being, and it’s not something I understand. Intellectually, I can see how it could be interpreted as being a go-getter, or some such thing, but once again, emotionally, I don’t understand it.

People are important to me, not for what they are or what they can do for me, but just for themselves, as themselves. In fact, truth be told, I don’t have the faintest idea of what a lot of my friends do professionally — they’re just people, and they’re friends. And yes, when I need help, I will ask around, and reach out for help, but I’ve never once made friends with anyone based on potential use, and I don’t think that it’s something which most people I know do. And there’s a part of me which wonders whether there’s simply a generational gap there in the way in which one approaches others.

Other things are pettier. They don’t have to do with possible generational gaps, although they may be related to cultural differences. The attire, just for example — I will speak out for the right of a woman to dress exactly how she wants to. That doesn’t mean that I believe that a woman should necessarily exercise all that comes with the right. I believe that the right not to be sexually abused is independent of attire. I believe in not choosing attire on the basis of shame. I also believe in modesty, and not walking around (in India, at any rate) looking as though you’re wearing nothing at all waist-down.

I don’t believe that being sexy is about displaying in public all that you’ve got, although if that’s what makes you comfortable, I’m willing to support your right to dress like that... but I don’t believe that supporting your right also requires me to like your exercising it. I’m judgmental like that. And, yes, to an extent, that is probably cultural — I wasn’t brought up in a world where the human body, male or female, was ever up for display.

The world I was brought up in was full of formal clothes, truth be told. Offhand, I can’t remember a single adult I knew as a child wearing a T-shirt, for example. It was all always shirts, saris, salwaar kameezes, blouses, long skirts. Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t remember jeans either. The only time anyone wore anything less was at the swimming pool or some such place. It wasn’t about either shame or modesty, it was just the way things were done. And it’s still what I feel comfortable with.

That being said, to be honest, there is also a strong element of insecurity involved. Young beautiful women make me feel insecure. I’m neither, and the second I see one, I mentally compare myself to her, and I invariably find myself falling short.

And then, finally, there are personal preferences in the equation, which I suppose are entirely independent of both generational gaps and cultural differences. I like my privacy. I have issues with space. I don’t like people getting too close unless I especially want them there. I would not, for example, be able to be intimate with a man on one side of an unlocked door with a number of people only feet away on the other side of the door. That’s just the way I am, even if it’s a reflection of my being disconnected with normality and what’s entirely acceptable.

It may make me old, and dated, and entirely culturally irrelevant. But it’s still me. I’m not sure I want to change it. Unfortunately, there’s a part of me which feels the need to apologise for who I am.