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?