Erasure

During the Republican National Convention in the U.S., Donald Trump set my social media feeds ablaze with comments from well-meaning liberals pointing out the irony of his choice of music. They argued that Trump had committed a faux pas by using the Queen song “We Are the Champions”, not because he had yet again used music without permission but because Queen’s frontman, the late Freddie Mercury, was gay. But here’s the problem: Freddie Mercury never professed to be gay. As far as anyone knows, Freddie Mercury never identified as gay. Indeed, he had relationships with both men and women, and the song “Love of My Life” was written about Mary Austin, a woman.

For some people, this matter might be insignificant: “Gay, queer, bi… whatever; you know what I meant.” But, for me, this highlights the bigger issues of bisexual invisibility and erasure—when bisexuality is ignored or dismissed because it is not seen as a real or valid sexual identity.

Freddie Mercury was a flamboyant performer [tick]; he was known to have had affairs with men [tick]; and he died of AIDS-related complications [tick]. This information is enough for some people to feel entitled to define him and assign him to the “gay” box. But if Mercury himself never said that he was gay, what right do we have to do it on his behalf? Now, I realize that he never came out as bisexual either, but the semantics relating to sexuality are still evolving, and the closest term we have to describing a person who has loved and had sex with people of multiple genders is “bisexual”. It is important to note that Freddie Mercury was not very political and he was not interested in discussing how he defined his sexual orientation with the press. That was his right, as it is everyone’s right to decide how to self-define and whether to share this in the public domain.

As Shiri Eisner points out in the book Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution (2013), the most popular belief about bisexuality may be that it simply doesn’t exist. This “creates the impression that bisexuality doesn’t appear in popular culture (or indeed anywhere) because it really doesn’t exist. This also causes people to ignore (erase) bisexuality where it does appear for that very same reason. (What you know is what you see.)” (p. 37; emphasis mine). In other words, everyone else gets to define a person’s sexuality on the basis of what they feel they know about them.

Not everyone who is bisexual or otherwise nonbinary comes out, or possibly can, in the same way that people who are gay or lesbian do. Ask anyone who has tried it and you will hear stories about being told some of the following:

“You’re just going through a phase.”

“Pick a side!”

“You’re greedy!”

“If you haven’t slept with a guy and a girl (or sometimes, if you haven’t had relationships with both guys and girls), how can you know?”

So, coming out can be met with doubt. And usually, once a bisexual does have relationships out in the open, their sexual orientation will be defined according to whom they’re with (again, as Eisner states, “What you know is what you see”). This revolves around the patriarchal notion that the penis rules all. That is, one’s sexuality is defined according to one’s proximity to the phallus. Think for a second about the term “gold-star lesbian”—that is, a woman who identifies as lesbian and has never slept with a man, as if that somehow makes her “purer” than a woman who has slept with a man, or multiple men. Accordingly, if a bisexual woman is dating a man, she will be defined as heterosexual, and maybe as someone who occasionally has sex with women, but probably as a performance she puts on to arouse heterosexual men, whereas if a bisexual man is dating a man, he will be defined as gay, and any attraction that he has to women will be overlooked.

Often, what comes after doubt or denial is suspicion. Many people feel threatened by bisexuals because they equate bisexuality with promiscuity and assume that a bisexual could potentially want anybody and, therefore, could never commit to a monogamous relationship. While it is important to acknowledge that everyone has a right to sleep with as many or as few people as they want to, and embrace or reject the idea of monogamy, it is insulting to decide that someone who is attracted to multiple genders is going to sleep with every single person they encounter and cannot be trusted to remain faithful in a relationship.

Given these responses to bisexuality/nonbinary sexuality, is it any wonder that there are people who choose not to disclose their orientation?

Monosexism assigns everyone to one of two permissible categories—straight or gay—depending on how we project our sexuality. Thus, monosexism and patriarchy are closely connected; the latter restricts behaviours, roles, and attractions, so the former can identify how to categorize them. These two identities are easy to define, recognize, and police. This has become blatantly obvious in the contemporary “acceptance” of homosexuality in many countries, mostly in the West. By “acceptance”, I do not mean to imply that homosexuality is encouraged or even acknowledged as valid in the way that heterosexuality is. Rather, because it can be identified and because much of the struggle of the privileged homosexuals has been about proving that they are “normal” and deserving of operating within the heteronormative world, it is now allowed under certain conditions.

This is where homonormativity plays a crucial role. I have written about the concept of homonormativity before. Homonormativity mirrors its cousin, heteronormativity, adopting the dominant model that upholds the same values of patriarchy, hypermasculinity, monogamy, family, capitalism, and whiteness that constitute the foundation of heteronormativity, and imposing them on queer people. I can’t accurately use the acronym LGBTQ here, as the existence of bi, pan, trans, etc. people continues to challenge this model—and I hope this continues to be the case. Homonormativity is used to police queer people’s behaviour and choices, to admonish them for not living acceptably—for not being more like upper- and middle class, white, cisgender, conservative, straight people. In this context, the concept of “straightness” extends beyond sexual orientation and can be attributed to the way some fine, upstanding, “normal” homosexuals live their conventional lives. Think of the idiom the straight and narrow. This separates homosexuality from queerness, and unlike homosexuality, queerness is not permissible, as it continues to pose a threat to the oppressive social order that some privileged gays and lesbians have fought to maintain.

This is why it is so critical that we not allow one dominant group to speak on behalf of LGBTQ+ people. We don’t all come from the same background and we don’t all face the same issues. But we do all have a responsibility to listen to each other and challenge our own issues with internalized homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, etc. I walk a fine line between wanting to advocate abandoning labels and wanting to claim sexuality as an important part of one’s political identity, which can require naming it. But I also believe that everyone should have the right to define who they are for themselves and should be able to choose whether or not to share that information. This is very easy for those who identify as heterosexual. The model is set before they enter the world, and their family and society will naturally assume that they will fit into this model. For others, the family and society will make the same assumption, but the outcome won’t be so easy. Even still, some who struggle with being “different” will find their path because, as I said, homosexuality is increasingly gaining recognition as an actual thing, so if one can comfortably identify with gayness, it will make self-definition more straightforward, not just for the gay or lesbian individual but also for everyone else who wants to understand what that person is.

And everyone wants to understand what people are. The problem is that our understanding of what people can be is so incredibly limited.

Learning from Goa

As I have stated before, my relationship with Goa and time spent interacting with and observing the Goans has made me rethink and reinterpret my identity as a Canadian and what Canada is. 

Over the years, I have become progressively disenchanted with any display of nationalism. During childhood, we are all made to learn the words to our respective national anthem and sing it on cue, and participate in rituals connected to holidays intended for patriotic celebration. Growing up in Canada, we had to stand for the national anthem (O Canada) in school every morning. As a music student, I and my fellow concert band-mates were also made to play O Canada for the school on many occasions. One Remembrance Day, in secondary school, God Save the Queen was added to the set list, effectively forcing us to pledge allegiance not only to the idea of Canada but also to the monarchy that continues to enjoy the status of our country’s official ruling power. And this is something that our government asks of new Canadians. Yet some are availing of their legal right to disavow their oath to the Queen and her descendants.

The monarchy is becoming increasingly irrelevant to us. And this is where I see hope for this country. While we have just begun to take steps toward finally acknowledging the genocide and other heinous abuses committed against the Indigenous peoples of what we call Canada, we have a very long way to go. 

So much is not talked about in this country. For example, we have yet to truly acknowledge that slavery existed in Canada. 

But perhaps as more people immigrate to this country from every part of the world, we can overcome the deeply racist conception of what it means to be Canadian and welcome deeper political participation from people from various backgrounds.

Some will undoubtedly argue that we are already doing this, as the current Liberal Cabinet has two Indigenous Canadians, an Afghan Canadian, and four Indo-Canadians. When the Cabinet was formed in 2015, many Canadians agreed with the Prime Minister’s assertion that he had chosen a Cabinet that “looks like Canada”.

However, some Canadians, such as myself, were crying foul. Most glaringly, there was not even one Black Canadian in the Cabinet. Numerous articles were written on the subject (see, e.g., Rachel Décoste’s article) and debates were had on social media. These debates were intriguing in their inconsistent logic. The Prime Minister had announced much before that his Cabinet would comprise 50% men and 50% women. Not surprisingly, this prompted outcries in print and television media that Trudeau was going to tamper with the meritocracy! Then when the induction occurred and the public saw the credentials of the Cabinet Ministers, this rhetoric dissipated. But when those of us who saw something was amiss with the representativeness of the Cabinet spoke out, we were accused of wanting to interfere with the meritocracy! Some lazily argued that perhaps there just weren’t enough Black, Asian, Arab, North African, Iranian, etc. Canadians in the Liberal caucus for the Prime Minister to choose from. But a quick glance at the list of elected Liberal MPs was all it took to refute this argument. Further, as I pointed out then, all four Cabinet Ministers of Indian ancestry are members of Canada’s Punjabi Sikh community; therefore, they do not even reflect the diversity of Indo-Canadians.

Indeed, I still maintain that the Cabinet reflects an ignorance (perhaps even a racist notion) of what diversity means. This is not to say that the Cabinet Ministers are unqualified for their positions; on the contrary. The problem in relation to the discussion surrounding the Cabinet was all the self-congratulatory back-slapping of the Liberal Party.

They boasted that this was the most diverse Cabinet Canada had ever seen, when in fact, as Rachel Décoste pointed out, the former Conservative Cabinet had actually set the bar for representing Canada’s multicultural character. 

Perhaps it was that Canadians were paying closer attention, given Trudeau’s promise of change. Or perhaps it was that Trudeau’s team simply looked ‘more different’ to some people. Whatever the reason, such felicitation over the composition of the Cabinet suggests that any person of colour can speak for all people of colour—thinking that effectively others everyone who isn’t white.

Celebrating the nomination of four Indo-Canadians to Cabinet whose ancestors can be traced to the same part of the Indian subcontinent is interesting to me because it suggests that there is some monolithic Indian identity. But as anyone who has ever lived in South Asia knows, there is tremendous diversity among its inhabitants (infinite languages and dialects, various religions and traditions within the same religion, varying dietary habits, etc.). Such thinking is evident here when someone born in Canada meets a Goan Catholic, for example, and is puzzled as to why he or she has a Portuguese-sounding name. After all, this contradicts the image of Indianness that has been framed in Canada (Aren’t all Indians either Hindu or Sikh and have surnames like Patel or Singh?).

I see parallels in this idea of a uniform Indianness when I’m in Goa too. It’s no secret that there is heavy nationalism at play throughout India right now. India is a beautiful and fascinating country; no two places are really alike. This is both where the country’s strength lies and where it poses a challenge to those who want to concisely define this landmass and the people who live on it—which invariably takes the shape of a North Indian identity. Besides physically inhabiting the territory called ‘India’, what do the citizens of India have in common? One can ask the same question about Canada. Owing to its history, Canada seems to be in perpetual need of defining itself. Similarly, since its annexation to India in 1961, Goa has been under pressure to define itself in connection with the mainland. Undoubtedly, this pressure to self-define would date back even further, but let’s deal with the present day for now.

The complexities of Goa are such that I feel I’m still unravelling and only starting to understand them—a decade-and-a-half after my first visit. While the perspectives of the Goans are numerous, in everyday conversation about what is happening and what the future should bring, the following three voices seem to ring the clearest: (1) those who are caught up in nostalgia, (2) those who have a strong sense of Indian nationalism, and (3) well-meaning types who lament the loss of the natural environment and the character of the place they remember, but who aren’t necessarily prepared to disrupt the status quo to stop this process. I believe that none of these three perspectives is helpful. They all overlook the greater problem that an external ideology is being imposed on Goa. Indeed, I would argue that one of the issues holding Goa back is the desire for a saviour—more specifically, an external saviour. 

I see it in all three of the aforementioned perspectives (e.g., the Portuguese vs. Congress–BJP vs. Arvind Kejriwal and a Delhi-centred AAP). I rarely hear calls for Goans to unite and shape the future of the state together. This may be the result of a long history of division among the people (for a clear, succinct explanation of these divisions, see e.g. Raghuraman S. Trichur’s book Refiguring Goa: From Trading Post to Tourism Destination). Such a lack of unity can do nothing but enable the ongoing destruction of the environment and physical and psychological colonization.

I had a heated discussion with an AAP volunteer in May, when we were both in attendance at the same gathering in Panjim. She was singing Arvind Kejriwal’s praises while criticizing the BJP’s Hindu nationalist ideology. I opined that the lack of a strong local voice in AAP’s Goa wing was a problem, especially since Kejriwal had recently addressed the crowd at the AAP rally in Panjim in Hindi, using overtly Hindu nationalist language, including the phrase ‘Bharat mata ki jai’ (‘Victory to Mother India’). Whether you do or do not take issue with this slogan, it is significant for a politician from Delhi to come to Goa and say such a thing. Some others mentioned that he hadn’t spoken in Konkani; this, I think, would be unreasonable to expect, but it would not have been difficult for him to at least greet the crowd in English. He chose not to. 

I asked her what reassurance she had that Kejriwal doesn’t espouse the Hindutva ideology himself. The exuberant AAP volunteer told me that she just knew in her heart that Kejriwal was trustworthy. She went on to ask me if I’m Goan. When I told her that I am not, she lost interest in continuing the conversation and walked away.

I’m aware of the strange position I’m in as an outsider urging the Goans against seeking deliverance from an outsider. My position is similar in the context of my own country, as a white Canadian who is eager for the dismantling of the system of whiteness that controls everything. In fact, my position as an insider–outsider in Goa has not only helped me understand my privilege in Canada and as a Canadian in the world but also the role that I can play in working towards deconstructing this system as well as in challenging Canadians’ rigid ideas about Indianness. So, similarly, my purpose in writing about Goa is in shining a light on things as I see them from this particular position, without claiming to have the answers.

Identity is not just a project of the individual; belonging is also integral to this formation. The myth of the uninhabited land is crucial to colonization; the erasure of the locals and their identity allows the colonizer to use that land as he sees fit. Thus, when we operate solely as individuals, this disconnects us from each other and makes erasure possible. This has become clear to me during my time in Goa, and I see similar workings in the exclusion of Black Canadians and many others from power in Canada and from the Canadian identity.

What does it mean to be Goan? If this question goes unanswered, it will cease to be relevant, because another identity will be imposed on Goa. And as for Canada, I think many of us will agree that we still have work to do to figure out who we are.

Over the rainbow

I ponder the issue of identity a lot, and throughout Pride month, I was thinking in particular about the issues of representation and inclusion/exclusion within the LGBTQ community. I must confess that I’ve never attended a Pride parade. In general, I’ve never derived pleasure from watching parades, and I don’t like crowds. More importantly, the so-called community has never felt like a completely inclusive one to me. My introduction to this space was in university. It seemed very white and representative of very specific identities—namely, people who identified with either the ‘L’, ‘G’, or (less so) ‘B’ in the acronym LGBTQ. Thankfully, that acronym has been expanding over the years to acknowledge the existence of different identities. To the best of my knowledge, it is currently LGBTQQIP2SAA (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, pansexual, two-spirit, asexual, and ally), sometimes referred to as ‘Alphabet Soup’ owing to its length.

But not everyone is eager to eat this soup. If you think homophobic heterosexuals are a problem, you might be surprised to learn how rampant racism is in the LGBTQ community and how frequently same-sex attracted people dismiss and promote the erasure of different sexual and gender identities. I suspect we’ve all been guilty of assuming that someone is gay because they’re attracted to someone of the same sex or of questioning the identity of a bisexual who is dating a person of the opposite sex or of being insensitive to someone’s gender identification. But it is crucial to learn from this and be more aware, more receptive, more understanding, and more respectful. I was appalled the other day when I read the comments on an article about this acronym. Rather than supporting the recognition of the various sexual and gender identities, people were complaining about how unnecessarily complicated it is—that people should just identify as queer if not lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender. In one of these comments, a woman derided those who want to expand LGBT and suggested that anyone who doesn’t identify with one of these terms should ‘figure it out, like [she] did’.

From this perspective, one might deduce that only three sexual orientations exist: heterosexual, homosexual, and bisexual. But it actually gets worse, as bi erasure and invisibility within the so-called community are common. Ask any bisexual and you will hear stories about being told to pick a side. So, what many people actually feel is that only two legitimate sexual identities exist: straight and gay. This ignores the countless people who occupy the enormous space between these two ends of the sexuality spectrum and denies their right to self-define.

While reading up on Toronto Pride, I stumbled upon an article titled ‘Why are we erasing LGBT people from our own community?’ I assumed that it would be about how we overlook the identities of our fellow queer people. On the contrary, the article is critical of people who identify as anything other than gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender. The author—a white male—complains about Pride Toronto’s mission to ‘[bring] people together to celebrate the history, courage, diversity and future of our community’. I agree with him that ‘celebrating’ and not ‘demonstrating, promoting, and demanding rights and equality’ is a failure on the part of the organizers, but I was disappointed that despite this critique, he doesn’t get into a discussion about this. What I cannot agree with is his criticism of the use of the ambiguous terms ‘people’ and ‘community’. Unlike him, I commend Pride Toronto for acknowledging that not everyone identifies with ‘LGBT’, and I agree with the organizers that dropping this signifier promotes more inclusion. The author, however, argues that the terms lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender are ‘all-encompassing’, and thus those who do not identify with one of them are manifesting internalized homophobia or transphobia. That is one very privileged viewpoint!

How can a sexual minority demand recognition of their sexual identity and deny others the same right? If we truly believe that everyone should have equal rights, we must reject the dominance of the white, cisgender, homosexual, middle class identity within the rainbow. It promotes a homonormativity that aligns dangerously with a capitalist culture that thrives on oppression. This is why many people of colour don’t identify as gay or lesbian, despite being attracted to members of the same sex. Furthermore, the corporatization of Pride that complements this homogenization of the queer identity excludes and deters people who might otherwise want to celebrate.

 (Noah Berger/Reuters)

As a Huffington Post blogger states, he chooses not to attend Pride because ‘it’s for those members of the LGBT community who are the best customers for the sponsoring brands and who fit an image of lithe, young, white male gayness’. A look at Pride Toronto’s sponsors this year is telling: several alcohol companies, Viagra (known to be used recreationally), TD Bank, Manulife Financial, Eska Water, Smart… The target market is clearly affluent inhabitants of metros, who like to party. Yep, ‘lithe, young, white male gayness’ sounds accurate.

This celebration of capitalism in addition to the increased police presence is why individuals and groups, like Black Lives Matter, opted out of San Francisco’s Pride celebrations this year.

(Mel Evans/Associated Press)

Anyone who can feel comfortable and safe in the presence of heavily armed police is clearly privileged enough not to be suspicious of law enforcement, is unfamiliar with the history of the LGBTQ rights movement and the initiation of Pride, and is disinterested in the ongoing history of discrimination and violence that people of colour are facing at the hands of police. And, like me, they’ve probably been lucky enough not to have had to do any real work for the cause, because so many have already fought and/or lost their lives fighting for their basic right to be regarded as human and non-criminal. Pride appears to be a battleground between those who see identity as political and those who do not.

Like white feminism, we seem to have a white homosexuality problem, where white people lead the movement and are satisfied when they make progress and are okay with leaving everyone else behind. This is perhaps best exemplified by the struggle for marriage equality that does nothing to mitigate or eradicate pressing issues such as laws that allow for discriminating against people on the basis of their sexual or gender identity, the continued brutalization and murder of trans women of colour, homelessness among queer youth, the high rate of domestic violence that bisexual women face, etc. Of course, this is not to say that I oppose same-sex marriage. I only wish that those who’ve fought for that right would also pursue securing the rights of others, who continue to fight for their very survival. Until your LGBT rights encompass the rights of all sexual and gender minorities, what is there to be proud of?

Gendering the land

Image courtesy Angela Ferrao (https://www.facebook.com/Ferraodesigns/?fref=ts)

Earlier this month, I wrote about the ongoing urbanization of Goa. When I shared the piece on a public forum, someone posted a comment lamenting the disappearance of ‘Virgin Goa’. Such statements are common. That they can be uttered so nonchalantly demonstrates how deeply rooted patriarchy is.

The concept of virginity—and it is merely a concept and not, as patriarchs would have us believe, a physical condition—is typically used to convey the image of land whose natural beauty has been preserved, or which is ‘pure’ or ‘untouched’. This in and of itself may seem harmless enough, but this concept runs much deeper, as the notion of land being virginal is generally juxtaposed to that of the evildoers coming to ‘rape’ it. This is problematic for several reasons. First, it reinforces the idea that virginity is a community/public matter, rather than a personal one. Second, it lends support to the idea that virginity is something that is forcibly taken. Third, it illustrates that virginity is something to be prized, and thus the lack of it, something egregious. The commonality among these first three issues leads to the fourth problem—the land is almost always feminized (e.g., Mother Earth, Mother Goa, motherland, Bharat Mata)—and accordingly treated as an object that either needs protection or whose virtue can be sold to the highest bidder. This latter point bears similarity to the purchase of another person’s virginity, for example, in the prostitution of a minor, where the deal is rarely brokered by the owner of said virginity.

Indeed, what the female does with her genitals is not actually up to her. They are the business of everyone in her society and are controlled physically (e.g., female genital mutilation) and mentally (e.g., lack of sex education, slut shaming). In addition to myths and proscriptions relating to menstruation, different cultures have rules surrounding the proof of virginity or proof of the loss of virginity on the wedding night. A female who is accused of impropriety can be subjected to a so-called virginity test, where her genitals are physically examined. She can easily be deemed impure if the examiner does not detect a hymen—that is, if there is no physical impediment to the examiner sexually assaulting her under the guise of performing this test—or if the vagina seems wide—because patriarchy assumes that one body is the same as the next and that the penis, or numerous penises, can stretch out the vagina. Furthermore, if a new bride fails to spill blood on the sheets on her wedding night—which would more likely be the result of her husband having rushed or rough sex with her than him penetrating a thin membrane—the woman will be accused of having lied about her virginity. Therefore, if, when put to the test, a female is unable to prove that she is ‘pure’, she can bring shame on her family and community and be punished.

The violence associated with the de-virginization of the female is unmistakable in the aforementioned practices. This imagery carries over to the feminized land that is categorized as virginal until colonized, ironically, even when it is already inhabited and used. Isn’t it also ironic that to confirm purity, much like the female genitalia, the land must be examined and thereby encroached upon? I think this is further evidence that virginity is but a myth. The point, however, is that the feminine is always subject to being penetrated or taken. This concept is used frequently in Goa, where the land is being gobbled up by capitalists and well-off colonizers. Ads such as the one below have occupied the front pages of newspapers.

In response to a similar ad displayed at the Dabolim airport wooing investors with the call, ‘It’s time to claim your piece of Goa’, Jason Keith Fernandes highlighted that ‘the act of claiming, or the act of any conquering power, is an act of patriarchal power. It sees territory as female, appropriate for exploring, dominating and consuming’. So, it is the job of the masculine conqueror to stake his claim, take what rightfully belongs to him, without asking. To deny the connection to rape would be to wilfully ignore it.

Gendering also occurs from the masculine perspective. The concept of the ‘fatherland’ propagated by the Nazis provides an interesting example of this. Pride in the nation and in one’s ancestors—or forefathers—stinks of patriarchy. The distinction here is clear: the Nazis were fascists and invaders. Their concern was not about defending the fatherland. Rather, like the male who must spread his seed, it was their job to expand the domain of the fatherland—that is, to conquer other lands by force. So, while the land is associated with femininity when it concerns protection from invasion or destruction, it is associated with masculinity vis-à-vis the issues of nationalism/patriotism and imperialism/expansion. Once again, we can see a relationship between violence and gender, as well as the theme of de-virginization, particularly within the framework of nationalism.

India offers some intriguing examples of the nationalist connection to gendered land. First, we can look back at M.K. Gandhi. Though he has been applauded for his belief in, and work towards, gender equality and women’s empowerment, his actions and thoughts reveal a patriarchal mindset. There is a game that patriarchs play when they want to sweep all this messy gender business under the rug. They simultaneously praise you and exercise control over you by encouraging you to emancipate yourself by being true to your supposedly feminine nature. The following is a clear attempt by Gandhi to police women’s sexuality: ‘Woman must cease to consider herself the object of man’s lust. The remedy is more in her hands than man’s. She must refuse to adorn herself for men, including her husband, if she will be an equal partner with man.’ This sounds a lot like the logic used to justify purdah (the cloistering of women)—a practice that Gandhi denounced. Since Gandhi believed that women were the personification of self-sacrifice and silent suffering, he logically extolled their virtue in relation to the non-violent freedom struggle. Thanks, girls, for taking abuse and keeping quiet! You’re great role models; don’t ever change!

There is much to be said about M.K. Gandhi, but let me not digress. He is remembered for having feminized Indian nationalism by making women equal partners in the freedom struggle, equating India’s liberation with its purification (i.e., the removal of the British), and depending on preserving women’s purity, with an emphasis on chastity, to achieve this. Gandhi’s preoccupation with women’s purity was so extreme that he believed in cases of rape, ‘a woman, if she has the requisite courage, will be ready to give up her life rather than her virtue’. Although Gandhi’s philosophy promoted non-violence, his ideas seamlessly transitioned into the modern concept of Bharat Mata. This personification of the motherland is associated with devotion, selflessness, and spiritual (i.e., Hindu) inclination. To show their appreciation, Hindu sons are therefore expected to shed their blood to preserve her honour and punish those who would defile, violate, or insult her, and this includes those who do not worship her. Such gendered nationalism, again, promotes violence.

The gendering of the land exemplifies the fluidity of concepts and how easily they can be revised in pursuit of new ends. The next time you want to discuss your ‘virgin land’ or feel compelled to protect her from barbarians, remember that you’re not showing respect or fighting for anyone’s honour; you’re perpetuating patriarchy.

Goa long gone

Change is inevitable, but not all change is for the better. I travelled to Goa by air for the first time (having previously travelled by rail or bus) sometime around 2008. Back then, there weren’t that many buildings near the airport, and the journey northwards from Dabolim was green, clean, and peaceful. But today, the difference is unmistakeable.

First, from the window of the aircraft, one can’t help but notice the number of buildings coming up within close proximity to the airport. Are these projects affordable housing for people working at the airport and in other jobs in the area? Of course not. The ads make it clear that they are intended to further fuel the rampant real estate market providing second, third, etc. homes to investors. Second, upon disembarking from the plane, the first thing one sees at the very gate are ads for the casinos.

I guess this cash cow is what the government is expecting tourists to come here for. I’m still not sure where all the waste generated from these attractions goes—into the Mandovi?

Third, in case there is any confusion owing to the changing landscape, one can always confirm one is in Goa by the sight of piles of garbage along the side of the road.

This past May, I even saw a mattress that had been discarded—its new dwelling, the once scenic shrubs and trees along the roadside. Fourth, although the traffic flowed smoothly this time, during peak tourist season, traffic jams on National Highway 17 are very common. People claim to come here to chill out, but the amount of traffic and the attitudes and poor driving skills of the motorists can make it feel like you’re in any Indian metro.

As a tiny state—and especially one that is part of a country with a gnawing hunger for development—Goa is a prime target for alteration. Add to this the fact that Goa’s coastal location and distinctive European–South Asian character attract visitors, and you realize that this beautiful place never stood a chance.

For years, the inhabitants of villages have watched the erection of apartment buildings and gated communities around them in disbelief. It is normal to see one light on in an entire building at night, making it clear that most of the buyers are investors and not people who have settled in Goa. As many have pointed out, Goa is regarded as a pleasure periphery, and thus, owning property here signals that one has attained a certain status. That is, if one is successful enough, Goa awaits with the reward of a luxurious and leisurely getaway. Moreover, you are entitled to claim this reward.

With this construction came the urbanization of many villages, at least in appearance. The smooth, widened roads and introduction of footpaths and benches have not necessarily been complemented by a steadier power supply, for instance.

Photo courtesy Frederick Noronha (https://www.flickr.com/photos/fn-goa/16457002907)

It became clear that there was a plan. What that plan was, was the question.

An editorial was published in OHeraldo on 23 May 2016 that shed some light on what the game might really be. Fifty-six villages in Goa have been deemed towns according to the findings of the 2011 Census (i.e., a population of over 5,000; at least 75% of the male population engaging in non-agricultural activities; and a population density of 400 persons per sq km). As the editorial points out, “once village panchayats are upgraded into municipalities, they will bring in changes in land usage, allowing for a higher floor area ratio (FAR) that will in turn lead to taller buildings in what were once the green and pristine villages of Goa.”

As I have written before, Goa is becoming increasingly similar to Bombay. In the suburbs, one need only look in the distance to imagine what the area used to look like before migration and urbanization transformed it into what we are familiar with today.

This, for example, was the view of Borivali East from Mount Poinsur (Borivali West) in 2007.

Photo mine

So, when we cry that Goa is disappearing, it is about much more than nostalgia. It is a statement of fact. Humans are very good at gobbling up the earth for profit and convenience. But Bombay became the financial capital of India. What is the vision for Goa?

The statement of The Vision of the Broad Picture for Goa@60 (2022), as part of the vision for India@75, offers some idea. I find the following statement under the “Environment” section of the document particularly interesting: “Protection of the environment and ensuring the creation of green spaces for future generations…” Goa has always been full of green spaces; they need never be “created.” Furthermore, if one advocates for concretizing the existing green landscape and then earmarking spaces for re-greening, how can one claim to be protecting the environment?

This idea of “creating” green spaces is prevalent. This same language can be heard in the ads shown on the local TV channels for property in gated communities (e.g., Milroc Kadamba). Don’t people want to move to Goa because of its natural beauty, and doesn’t that natural beauty already include a considerable amount of green? So, what will happen, I wonder, when Goa no longer looks like Goa? Will there be infrastructure and employment opportunities (the long absence of which has caused many Goans to emigrate) allowing everyone to adapt? Or will those who invested their money here just move on to the next spot selected for colonization (a.k.a. development) and leave the Goans with a hot mess?

False prophets

So well-trained are we by capitalist/neoliberal ideology that our heroes have become the rich and famous. Some of my friends on Facebook follow people like Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates. I know this because their “likes” on these billionaires’ posts have come in my news feed. There is nothing wrong in following updates from wealthy, privileged people; I follow some famous people myself. What I think matters is what we admire in these figures.

When someone offers their well wishes, they will often mention health, happiness, and prosperity. The last element has a clear link to money. As we drift farther away from Judeo-Christian beliefs, the words “the love of money is the root of all evil” (1 Timothy 6:10) no longer apply. And the resultant void must be filled by something. For many, this is consumerism and material aspiration.

So, when I see people looking up to those who are winning the capitalist game, it doesn’t surprise me. One example is Beyoncé. Destiny’s Child was a fantastic group, and while they used their bodies, the focus was always on their music.

Solo Beyoncé of the 2000s was similar, and her music was still the focus (“Crazy in Love,” “Halo,” etc.).

But something seemed to happen in the 2010s that signalled a slightly different trajectory.

This image is from the filming of the video for “Drunk in Love” (2013). The song was a big international hit. What people saw in it, I don’t know. The video bothered me because, for the first time, I saw this performer’s physical appearance being placed above her talent as a singer. And while Beyoncé may be a powerful woman with full control over her career and her image, that doesn’t necessarily make her a feminist icon. After all, the rules are different for Jay-Z in the video. Where is his bathing suit? Why is he wearing a shirt? Is this some topsy-turvy world where he’s the object and the object gets to be fully clothed?

To her credit, I would say that Beyoncé has challenged the Western concept of beauty that has traditionally only valued white women. Moreover, I’m not opposed to a woman using her sexuality to draw attention to the fact that women are indeed sexual beings, and I think she has done this well. But one should not forget that Beyoncé is an instrumental part of the capitalist system. So, when she uses feminism as part of her branding, I think we should take her with a grain of salt. I know a lot of women disagree with me. Like eminent scholar bell hooks, I may be perceived as an aunty who doesn’t get millennials. But those of us from previous generations do get it: millennials come from a world in which they have only ever known globalization and neoliberalism.

Many argue that Beyoncé’s latest album, Lemonade, is a seminal feminist album and a gift to Black women.

I can see that this is largely true of “Formation,” but when I read the lyrics to the other songs on the album, I saw a narrative from the perspective of a woman in a heterosexual relationship. Clearly, this resonates, as article after article and tweet after tweet are being written about it and bell hooks has been harshly criticized for critiquing it. But hooks was right, in my opinion, in highlighting that Beyoncé’s brand of feminism doesn’t challenge patriarchy. So, then, from a feminist perspective, what does it achieve? It doesn’t appear as though Bey has moved much farther beyond where she was in 2014, when she wrote an op-ed telling us what we already knew: that gender equality is a myth and that women continue to earn less than men.

This could very well be millennial feminism—expressions of choice, desire, and individuality that make women feel empowered, but offer no means of challenging the systems that are in place. That ideology seems compatible with the contemporary world, where a few corporations own everything and our governments work for them, not us; where people are working overtime for no extra pay and are carrying massive debt; where a new iPhone comes out every six months and it’s exactly the same as the previous iPhone, but costs more, and people line up outside the Apple Store overnight to be the first ones to buy it.

Speaking of which, Apple CEO Tim Cook is in India right now to cut some business deals.

I remember when Cook wrote his own op-ed in 2014 to come out publicly. He wrote that being gay had “provided a window into the challenges that people in other minority groups deal with every day” and had made him “more empathetic.” He also underlined the following:

there are laws on the books in a majority of [U.S.] states that allow employers to fire people based solely on their sexual orientation. There are many places where landlords can evict tenants for being gay, or where we can be barred from visiting sick partners and sharing in their legacies. Countless people, particularly kids, face fear and abuse every day because of their sexual orientation.

Is Tim Cook unaware of the fact that homosexuality, and indeed any sexual act “against the order of nature” (i.e., anything that isn’t penis in vagina), is a crime in India? I suspect he knows this. And I also suspect that it makes no difference, because money conquers all in the world that the CEOs of major corporations control. So, Cook is allowed to be openly gay and dictate how relevant that is: “Part of social progress is understanding that a person is not defined only by one’s sexuality, race, or gender. I’m an engineer, an uncle, a nature lover, a fitness nut, a son of the South, a sports fanatic, and many other things.”

But laws like Section 377 reduce human beings to their genitals and prescribe strict instructions for what they are to be used for. So, whatever else one might be, if one is not a cisgender heterosexual in India—hell, even if one is and wants to have oral or anal sex—and especially if one is vulnerable and can be easily picked up by the police, one is a criminal. I suppose Cook’s empathy is conditional—as long as it doesn’t interfere with business, he’ll feel it.

We tend to expect those who belong to marginalized or oppressed groups to support causes that are inherently left-wing, like feminism and equal rights for LGBTQ people, but when those people are who they are because of their location within a right-wing system, it should come as no surprise when their version of these social movements seems to fit comfortably within that system. Let Beyoncé identify as a feminist, and let Tim Cook identify as an empathic person who can serve as an example to people who are struggling with their sexual orientation. But remember that they are capitalists. The vast majority of the people buying what they’re selling do not inhabit the world they do and never will.

Change will only come for the rest of us when we dismantle the same system that props them up. So, love Beyoncé’s music, buy an iPhone or iPad, if that’s what you want, but think critically about who your idols are and what they ask of you.