The Gori Truth About Miss India

 





The "Miss India" crown always goes to a woman who fulfills the Indian ideal of beauty, which actually means just one thing: fairness.



Navneet Kaur Dhillon, Miss India 2013

Not a single finalist is ever dark-skinned. The contest is co-sponsored by Ponds, which competes to sell fairness creams (a $432-million market in 2010, according to A.C. Nielsen, and growing by 18 percent annually). The minimum height required for a "girl" (as contest rules describe its 18- to 23-year-old applicants) to even be considered for the pink crown is 5 feet 6 inches, while the average height of an Indian woman is 5 feet.

In India, women who are considered beautiful commonly get described as milk-skinned or chanda si gori (white as the moon). You may not be too bad looking if your complexion can pass as being wheat-skinned.

 Give me a beauty contest where along with the milky and wheaten bodies on parade are women that are coffee-skinned, tea-skinned, clove-skinned, pepper-skinned, coal-skinned, women who can haul bricks on their head yet walk divinely straight-necked. These are the strong, beautiful women you see on the streets of India.

We know that an Indian citizen as dark as Nina Davuluri, Miss America 2013, might just make the Miss India contest criteria for being an inch taller than the minimum, but would never breach its color preference.

Nina Davuluri, Miss America 2013

 What would happen, now, if Miss India Navneet Kaur Dhillon were to face off against the darker Ms. Davuluri in an international contest?

A Teacher's Day Lesson

 

 

 

A Delhi mall has a themed display for Teacher’s Day that pays tribute to this very Indian and non-commercial celebration. Circled by shops selling La Senza lingerie, Mac makeup  and Starbucks coffee is a saffron-draped sage holding forth wisely under a tree while his disciples listen with folded hands. These men sit in on a little plaster island, primly turned away from the saucy blondes modeling underwear in the distance and cordoned off by protective tape from the masses that stroll by.

 

I should be touched to see the wisdom of ancient India given a welcome spot amid the footfalls of all the pilgrims making calls on their retail shrines with offerings of plastic and cash. Instead, I’m engaged in a silent and pointless -- yet still entertaining --quarrel with this tableau assembled of Styrofoam and plaster. Exactly what is being celebrated?

 

Where are the women? Any women? Girls?

 

Oh, yeah, they’re missing because back then, only men, a handful of them, from higher castes, were allowed the luxury of seeking knowledge. Most men, and even more women, did not have access to learning unless they were exceptionally wealthy, fortunate or dedicated enough to find a way around this limitation.

 

I am not trashing the guru-disciple tradition. I just want to take it off its hallowed pedestal.

 

Do we really yearn for the days when the rules that governed society were created, recorded, hoarded and interpreted by a monopoly of misogynistic, upper class men whose legacy of exclusion still infects our country?

 

Is this the style of learning we still want to revere, with worshipful students parroting their teacher’s words unquestioningly?  Our education system processes students thus every year, churning out graduates with little knowledge and no real education.

 

Today on Teacher’s Day, I want to celebrate all the wonderful teachers we grew up with and all the good teachers out there, and not with some sentiment-encrusted slice of fake history, but with a new, improved, and far more real classroom scenario. That tableau would show a female teacher (since teaching in schools is a highly feminized profession) surrounded by boys and girls. And while more girls go to school than ever before, India’s schools need more girls. Only 6 out of 10 women are literate, compared to 8 out of 10 men.

 

I want to celebrate the blessing of living in an era where we have the technology to help us become aware, connected seekers of our own learning. I want to celebrate that so many of our sons and daughters can feel welcome to learn together in the same classroom. I want to celebrate that I live in a world where the right to ask questions and the means to seek answers belong to more people than ever before.

 

And, since wishing is cheap and free, I wish the money this very swanky mall allocated for this feel-good display and the education taxes the government collects from all of us were spent to ensure there was clean drinking water and functioning toilets in more schools so that fewer children would drop out.