mehreenkasana:

Where did the word Paki come from?

Some of you wanted me to share this. A very polite adventuresofawimpygirl said: “Hi Mehreen. This is quite embarrassing but I recently learned that the term “paki” is offensive. I’ve heard many of my friends regard Pakistani’s as “paki” so I presumed (mistakenly) it was just short for Pakistani. Would you mind providing me with some background and explaining why this term is offensive? I would like to pass this on to my friends as well. Thanks!”

So I answered: It started as a racial slur against “objects” of the colonies under Britain’s oppressive empire. The term “Paki” was used by white British people to humiliate Pakistanis originally. Later on it was used for South Asians and even Central Asians generally. A minority of expat Pakistanis decided to ‘reclaim’ the word but the majority, including myself, finds it extremely offensive. From here: “The abbreviation Paki acquired offensive connotations in the 1960s when used by British tabloids to refer to subjects of former colony states in a derogatory and racist manner. In modern British usage “Paki” is typically used in a derogatory way as a label for all South Asians, including Indians, Afghans and Bangladeshis. To a lesser extent, the term has been applied as a racial slur towards Arabs and other Middle Eastern-looking groups who may resemble South Asians. During the 60’s many emigrants were also dubbed as “black” to further segregrate them from the white community. Some would say such a division still exists in parts of England.”

If a Pakistani uses it, it’s their choice. If a non-Pakistani uses it, they’re asking for trouble. It’s disgusting.

Bullshit, I call it. 

It was yesterday that my mother brought it up. Last April I changed my major from Biology to History, dropping all intentions of ever going to a medical school, or having a serious career in the science field. 

It’s come as a big shock to her. Big. As in she’s been fighting with me until last week big-shock. Which surprises me since I didn’t expect that. But well. 

She told me that to be a doctor, or having any career in the sciences would mean “political neutrality.” I think I’ll estimate my shocked silence time to be at least a full 3 seconds before I gathered my thoughts and told her: “you know there are doctors dumped into prisons because they dared treat ‘protesters’, or whoever, right? Yeah I would be that doctor treating whoever happens to walk through the doors needing help.”

She pleaded me to think, do I not have responsibilities to myself? She is afraid that I will get into politics, that harm will come to me (more so because I am a woman, I think. I called it out, told her yes, there is a chance of rape, assault, whatever to me as a woman, but it would be to a man, too. She was incredulous. “What, men are going to be raped by women?!” “No, Mother, but men get raped by men.”)

But yes, the answer to her question is of course I do, and this is exactly why I am going after what I am going. Identity. History. Things stolen, things lost. People silenced, people ignored. 

People terrified. 

Let me talk about this concept, “political neutrality”, because I think that the concept in some way not only exists in “politically violent” countries like Myanmar and Pakistan, but it also exists in the grand old U.S. of A. 

Look, just because you are not “actively in politics”, just because you are not an active “activist” (and I think that word means different things to different people), let me tell you, you are never, ever, ever, ”politically neutral.”  I don’t care if you are a clerk in a store in a sleepy town in the middle of no where, with no knowledge or interest in “politics”, never mind opinions, but let me tell you something: you are never, ever, ever politically neutral. 

Why? It’s simply this: if you see a wrong being done, and you don’t stand up against it, because “it’s none of my business,” you are directly siding with the oppressor, the one who is committing the wrong. “Wait, how come, I didn’t condone or condemn, you are being too much!” No, my dear, I am not. And let me tell you why: because if those who fuck up even one other person, hell even any other being, and you don’t do any thing about it, the “oppressor” (scary word, huh?) becomes more bold. And continue doing whatever it is that he, or she is doing. Tell me, why should they stop if no one has called them out on it? And if you are not calling them out on it, if you are being “neutral”, you are silently saying, “that’s right, I think what you are doing is completely right, carry on.” 

Which is okay, too, by the way. Maybe you agree and whole heatedly support this action. But again, you are on their side. Not neutral. 

Irresponsible campers. Abusive partners. A whole system of people which continually ignore or deride a whole other people. And you know, both systems are made of individuals themselves. So every time you are simply standing by being “neutral”, not saying anything, you really are not. Even if it means “safe careers”, as the mindset is in at least the two countries which I come from because oh, they are not political, let me tell you, they are. If you are a doctor, yes, you will be treating “controversial” patients at some point. If you choose not to treat them, you are still being political. Commerce? You choosing to conduct business with someone is not always purely business sense, and even if it is, there is some sort of politics involved in there (“I don’t care about their politics or anything, they just have good business and I cannot afford to lose more money!” Which is okay, but please note: if someone has pointed out to you that this person you are about to have business with have some unscrupulous practices, whatever they may be, you are still silently telling them that it’s okay, they can do whatever they want, clients will always come to them. Nope, I see no political neutrality.) 

Go on, throw any other “safe, neutral, careers” at me. Even if you are a clerk in that sleepy store in the middle of nowhere and you treat every client “fairly”, you are going to look at their purchases, and once in a while make idle presumptions about the person making said purchases. Those idle presumptions play out in your every day interactions. Which in the broader world, like it or not, translate into politics. 

So yes Mother dear, to answer your question, I am being very responsible to myself. If my actions are going to have some political meaning, no matter what, I’d rather choose for myself how I want it to be. Even if it’s just a phase. Even if I am being an “irresponsible teenager with too much adrenalin pumping through my veins.”

When I get old and get disillusioned Mother, there is always the option of going back to medical school if I want to. Or graduate school for science. Or whatever. But for right now, no. No, I’d like to understand my people, my culture, myself. So I am better able to fight for them, for me.

You see, Mother, this “politically neutral” profession of medicine? It’s not that neutral, and not that safe, and family friendly either. Doctors also get harassed, assaulted, and raped, too, together with grueling hours, and all the other bullshit they have to take. So, don’t worry, I am rather being responsible here, if I may say so myself. 

• The Muslim Woman
• The Pakistani Muslim Woman
• The Pakistani “urban, middle class, professional(?)” Muslim woman
• Burmese
• Burmese Muslim
• “Indian”-Burmese Muslim

Never mind the American immigrant one.

Never mind the whole muhajir/surti identity, too.  

That’s a whole lot of facets of myself I have to sit down and figure out. 

On symbols of power. 

Why I do say that? Because when I wear the hijab, I silently, politely, say “fuck you”, to everyone who thinks I need to be emancipated from this piece of oppressive cloth. 

It is such a symbol of power to say “fuck you” to all the “pious, body-policing-haraam-policing Muslims”, when I choose to wear the hijab in any which way I prefer. Maybe one day I’ll show my neck. It is how a lot of Muslim women wear it in Myanmar, and you cannot police me. Maybe I’ll wear heels, wear bangles, wear my ear-rings, and look positively radiant. 

You cannot, positively cannot, body police me. I will not take it off for you, and I will not wear it for you. So, my dear, and may I say this in a very polite way: fuck you. 

To all those who think that it is so “fobby” to wear Kamis Shalwar, and oh my goodness, in America too! Well, fuck you. Who are you to “clothes-police” me, dictate my taste in wardrobe? To all those who think I am your quiet “traditional” (what does that even mean by the way?!) little girl who is just so ready to demurely  make you chai, my dear, and just silently listen to you talk bullshit about stuff you obviously don’t know anything about, let me tell you something: The tea leaves are in that white cupboard over there, you may find the milk in the fridge, the chai pot is in the cupboard under the sink. Sugar? Did you not see it next to the tea leave box? Oh, well, that’s right, its about time we make your annual optometry appointment with your doctor soon, no? Oh, also, have you read Amina Wadud’s works? Fascinating my dear, I tell you, fascinating! 

So, to all of you: Fuck you. I’ll wear what I want, when I want, how I want. I’ll wear shocking pink skirts and spread my arms and dance around. And I’ll wear workman’s boots and get right to digging for the backyard my uncle wants to re-landscape. And yes, I’ll drape my shawls around proudly and parade around campus and offices and everywhere, day in and day out, and I’ll show off my Kamees Shalwars. 

And so, fuck you.