Growing Up Tamil in Singapore
I learned my first English vulgarity when I was 6 or 7 years old. It was “shit”. Used as “shit colour” and “You look like shit” with an ugly sneer. I couldn’t figure out what it was because my English wasn’t strong back then. I could not even think of something I looked like. Trees, maybe? So, I asked around. When I did eventually understand the word, I felt my heart shatter for the second time in my young life. Why would anyone compare people to that? But I was determined. I went back to school the next day, ready with rebuttals along the veins of “How do I look like that?” and “I don’t look like that.” Very strong, sound arguments. The counter-argument I received was to look in the toilet bowl and then at myself in the mirror. I did. I still didn’t get it.
It was the first of the many significant moments in my life that would soon follow – moments that will remind me that as a minority in Singapore, I’m an Indian first (racially, not citizenship wise for my foreign readers). Everything else about me comes second, or sometimes, doesn’t even matter at all. As an immigrant whose parents believed in the “keep your head down, work hard, don’t ask too many questions”, I thought the experiences I had were those of an immigrant. I didn’t know many of them overlapped with the Singaporean Indian population, experiences they too felt incredibly frustrated by. Like the “no Indians” when looking for houses or “curry is SMELLY” rants. Or like the time a lady squeezed herself on the train next to me, turned and appeared shocked or as though having a sudden realisation upon seeing me, and then held her nose for the entire train ride.
The amount I get ignored in shops.
The amount I get followed around in shops.
The amount I get stared down in shops.
The time I ordered chicken rice at a food court and got a “You so black why you take black sauce?” from the shopkeeper and a GUFFAW from his peers while helping myself to the condiments.
The amount I get lectured that Indian food is unhealthy because the bulk of their understanding of Indian food is oily curries, pratas, and briyanis.
The evolution of the coded “bilingual candidates required” which required you to be bilingual in Mandarin and English rather than Tamil/ Malay and English to “only Mandarin-speaking candidates may apply as job requires liaisons with clients who speak Mandarin.”
The time I was speaking on the phone in Tamil on the bus and the people behind me (who don’t know me) started talking in what their idea of Tamil was (basically, gibberish) and shaking their heads.
The Mandarin subtitles in the movie theatres.
The number of times I’ve heard “because yin du scary.”
The time someone asked me at my old workplace “You work here as a clerk is it?” and I said “No, I’m a clinical research coordinator” and got a patronising “Ohhh you so cleverrr.” in return. Said person did not need to know what I was doing there.
The number of times it took all of five seconds for two Mandarin speaking individuals to switch to Mandarin when in mixed company and discussing something that applies to everyone present (like in a meeting or social gathering).
The time I explained that Deepavali is not the New Year, and got a “You sure or not? You see this article, you see, it says Diwali is the New Year. You go back home, you ask your parents.”
And the number of times I’ve been told “Not happy, just leave ah. Who ask you stay here?” when voicing out against a racial unjust.
I could go on about all my racist experiences for days but I didn’t want to write about just the ways I’ve experienced racism; I wanted to write something that adds to the conversation in a constructive way.
As the #blacklivesmatter movement gains momentum, the conversation about racism is seeing a surge locally. Many members of the minority have been using this as an opportunity to speak about racism in Singapore. And to call out the racial majority for jumping on the #blacklivesmatter bandwagon while blatantly ignorant of the racism many of them demonstrate to the minority here. This is not the first time minorities have tried to express their unhappiness with the racial disparity in Singapore either. And yet, we are not being heard. Or worse yet, we are being hushed. If you ask me, you can pick up on the reason for us being ignored from the defence made by some of the racial majority for supporting the #blacklivesmatter movement. That Black people are dying and thus that movement matters more. Or that the #blacklivesmatter movement protests police brutality which is not an issue here in Singapore. These responses, for me, are no different than when such people travel to another country, experience racism there, come back home and label said country as “racist”; oblivious to the side-eyes exchanged by minorities as they go on these intense monologues about the verbal abuses hurled at them. Or worse yet, as they justify “At least here not so bad you know, I joke about you, you joke about me, we are okay. You know? YOU KNOW?!” As we silently nod along, not because everything here is okay, but because we are thinking, “Yes, Chinese person, the racism we experience here is very different from the racism we experience in other countries.”
As a society, we think our racism problem is not enough of a problem that warrants our attention or examination of our society and our behaviours. We think having Racial Harmony Day and celebrating Chinese New Year, Hari Raya, and Deepavali for a minimum of six years in school is more than enough demonstration of racial awareness. That having a Buddist temple and a Hindu temple adjacent is enough for a proud reflection of our racial diversity. That the fact the different races interact is enough demonstration of racial understanding and acceptance. Yet, despite the minimum of these six years of education on things like this, no one thinks it’s a problem when Indians have to explain that Deepavali is not the Tamil New Year. Or that it’s a problem when we have to repeatedly explain whether we are the group that celebrates Deepavali or Hari Raya. Or that it’s a problem when we have to answer again and again and yet again about whether Hindus can’t eat beef or pork. Because it’s “too difficult” for them to remember. Or that any of these are enough of a racism problem.
Let me share a racist experience I’ve had all my life. I’m sure many of us can remember that primary school required us to buddy up and hold hands when going anywhere at all. A day didn’t go by when the girl paired up with me and held my hand wiped hers on her skirt afterwards. Or said “EEEEE” as she did it. Or flat out refused to until the teacher barked at her. But that’s primary school, kids are kids. They’re just doing what their parents taught them, right? Fair enough. I mean, it’s not fair, I really want to know what these kids were taught that made them think being in contact with Indians is contagious, but you get the gist. Yet, this is an experience that follows me to date. Not too long ago (well, quite long ago because this was before the pandemic), I was on the train. It braked suddenly, throwing us all off balance. The lady next to me banged into me, looked up at me, and then looked away and furiously rubbed the parts of her body that had come into contact with mine in disgust. No courtesy apology for the physical hurt she had caused in throwing her body weight onto mine. Recounts of this story with the racial majority always gets a “Maybe she was having a difficult day?”, “Maybe she has issues?” and ALL the explanations you can think of to dismiss or rationalise her behaviour. I’ve even had my story nit-picked to insinuate that I was the one having an overreaction. My subsequent sharings of similar instances are met with complacent silence. Meanwhile, recounts of this story with the racial minority always gets a “What was her PROBLEM?” or “Are you serious?!” or a “I can’t believe that HAPPENED to you!!” The racial majority doesn’t want to accept or is in serious denial about what minorities face.
And this “I don’t want to touch Indians because Indians smelly/ dirty/ scary/ [other demeaning adjectives]” is barely the surface of the problem. I’ve heard plenty of stereotypes all my life – Indians are good in English, Indians are good at Math. Yet an Indian being in a good position or a reasonably well paying job is confusing, or if it’s a good day, applause-worthy. I can tell you hand over heart that the ONLY high-end place in Singapore I’ve consistently been treated with respect, courtesy, and as an actual customer with no falter, overcompensation, or lack in professionalism is Nespresso. And that’s why they’ve had my undying loyalty for four years now. But there's something far more problematic than these racist actions.
We live in a country where we are told and pride ourselves to be tolerant of other races. Of others. We even had a 200-word masterpiece the past December in The Straits Times titled “Singaporeans are tolerant and gracious.” Which elaborated on nothing further than that sentence. A piece of feel-good fluff, if you will. A pat on the back for absolutely nothing at all. Anything racial is adjoined with the word "tolerant". And this is precisely where the problem of “our racism is not big enough for our attention” stems from. Tolerance is a measure. It’s a quality that has a threshold; a limit or a breaking point before something is no longer acceptable. And that’s the general attitude I’ve experienced with the racial majority thus far in my life. That they are doing us a favour in living with us. In giving us the freedom to experience our culture albeit with the mocking that goes with it. In the “You know you can get KILLED in another country?! You’re LUCKY you’re here!” I’ve experienced a few times. You are not dying for your race here, thus you are safe. Which somehow has become synonymous to “So tolerate the racism you experience here. Be grateful that this is the extent you suffer.” Hey, quick question. Isn’t poison still poison no matter the quantity? Who’s going to go “Oh well, it’s just a teaspoon of poison, I’ll be fine!” before swallowing it?
What we need is some empathy. Yes, humans are built on a system of finding the difference in others and expressing distrust because of evolution. But we can be better than that. To members of the racial majority, saying “I see NO racial differences” or “I think curry is DELICIOUS, I always ask my neighbour for some!” on Facebook rants insulting racial minorities is NOT enough. It barely does anything. Have a proper conversation. Actually call people out and tell them why something is not okay. Don't just leave it "some people no hope lah" Speak to your children about race. Acknowledge our racial differences and look for the similarities that bridge us. Denying the fact that there is a difference does nothing. These differences are going to come to light sooner or later. But when you understand that there are similarities in our values and only differences in the mode of expression, it becomes that much easier to respect someone’s culture, someone’s race, someone’s way of life. It’s what enables you to embrace the other. You don't have to tolerate the practices of another culture anymore, you can simply let them be. That bridge of understanding will bond you with them. Then teach your children to do the same. Diversity is beautiful. It shows us how there are so many different ways you can do the same thing. It doesn’t take much to understand and see that no race (or religion) teaches you to be bad. To segregate. To isolate. It’s the people who put a spin on it to their liking who do.
And my dear minorities, especially fellow Indians, I believed and still believe, naively I suppose, that there would be some form of racial unity when a fellow Indian is being bullied. But experiences have taught me that we would much rather throw a fellow Indian under the bus than to be the one bullied. Or the one who is excluded from the racial majority. We have enough of our own colorism, and it’s barely a place to seek refuge and reassure that someone of a darker skin colour has values and is a good person. Which raises the question of “Then why do we expect any less from the majority?” So stop joining the taunts of your fellow people. Stand up for them.
The next time someone says “Hey, that’s not okay” let’s please not respond with an exasperated, “It was a JOKE lah” with no trace of remorse, no comprehension of the experience of the other, or, an attempt to see why it was offensive in the first place anymore. These names and experiences haunt us for years. We barely recover from one, only for the next to happen in its place to exist as a reminder: that we don’t belong here, we’re simply being put up with.
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