Questioni di appartenenza: Ius Soli

Settimana scorsa hanno rimandato l’approvazione della legge sulla #cittadinanza, lo #IusSoli Temperato e ci tenevo a scrivere due parole.

Anch’io sono nata in Italia, sono cresciuta qui ma diciamo che ho avuto difficoltà a considerarmi Italiana per un bel po’. Questo era dovuto anche al fatto che fino alla maggiore età tecnicamente lo stato non mi considerava come tale, ma bensì un’extracomunitaria a tutti gli effetti. Per le poche persone che tuttora non sanno molto riguardo la legge di cittadinanza italiana, un/a bambino/a con genitori immigrati nato/a e cresciuto/a sul suolo Italiano deve aspettare di compiere 18 anni per acquisire la cittadinanza italiana. Dopodiché comunque ha solamente una finestra di un anno per fare domanda, cioè andare in Comune, prendere un appuntamento, presentarsi con la documentazione necessaria e solo dopo che quest’ultima sia approvata potrà fare il giuramento. Certo la può ottenere se uno dei genitori l’ha già ottenuta, ma il procedimento non è che sia proprio facile e sbrigativo.
Si arriva quindi a 18 anni a recitare queste parole: “Giuro di essere fedele alla Repubblica italiana, di osservarne lealmente la Costituzione e le leggi”. All’epoca non capivo la necessità di questo giuramento: non l’avevo mica fatto già per 18 anni? Perbacco, ero più italiana io di altri miei coetanei “italiani-italiani” che dispregiavano la musica italiana, si lamentano ogni 2×3 dell’Italia e idolatravano ciecamente tutto ciò che era americano, mentre io amavo anche Fantozzi, Renato Pozzetto, Cristina D’Avena e gli 883!
Insomma cresci in Italia, vai a scuola in Italia, studi tutto quello che c’è da sapere del Bel Paese, culturalmente vieni cresciuto come italiano/a e quindi ti senti al 100% come tale… però lo stato non ti riconosce come tale! E ti dici: maccheccazzo che assurdità è mai questa!!

Non essere tecnicamente italiani a livello burocratico aumenta il senso di ‘liminalità’ con cui noi figli d’immigrati cresciamo, se non di esclusione. La cosa ti pesa eccome, specie durante l’adolescenza. Per carità, il senso di esclusione lo proviamo tutti prima o poi nella vita, non c’è scampo, ma il mio e quello di molti altri figli d’immigrati è specifico ad un mancato senso di riconoscimento a livello governativo. Come un amore non corrisposto. C’è il rischio poi che questo sentimento possa trasformarsi in risentimento e manifestarsi in atti molto più gravi.

Il passaporto italiano lo vedi come una meta irraggiungibile, un privilegio.
Quando finalmente lo ricevi è come aver vinto la Champions.
Senza il passaporto italiano infatti non avrei potuto viaggiare in tanti dei paesi in cui sono stata in questi anni, ma soprattutto non avrei potuto intraprendere la carriera accademica a Londra, senza bisogno di visti/permessi e pagando ’solo’ la quota di £3200 come studentessa EU (invece che quella assai cospicua per gli studenti internazionali).
I problemi legati alla mia liminalità ci sono ancora e rimarranno sempre certo, ma quel libricino un senso d’inclusione maggiore me l’ha dato. Quindi perchè non risparmiare a molti altri ragazzi anni di fila all’Ufficio Immigrazione o in Questura, mancato senso di eguaglianza e facilitare il processo per la cittadinanza? Ecco…. Perché no, Senato? Perché si trova sempre un pretesto per rimandare la legge? Perché sui TG quando si parla dello Ius Soli Temperato si mostrano le immagini di barconi a Lampedusa, due ‘problematiche’ a se stanti che non c’entrano niente l’una con l’altra (partorire in Italia non comporterebbe ottenere la cittadinanza immediata e quant’altro)?

Io con questo inviterei i miei amici ‘italiani-italiani’ a informarsi su questo tema e a prendere una posizione, firmando la petizione in basso se si considera tutto ciò abbastanza assurdo. Anzi, vorrei invitare ogni singola persona che mi conosce a valutare la nostra amicizia, l’opinione che avete su di me. Mi avete mai visto come diversa? Il mio colore della pelle vi ha mai turbato? Salvo lo stupore iniziale, non siete riusciti a conciliare il fatto che parlassi un italiano quasi perfetto e avessi la pelle marrone? Vi ho dato modo di pensare che avrei fatto del male a voi e ai vostri cari? Che vi avrei derubato?
Se a queste domande avete risposto no, sappiate che ci sono molti altri bambini/ragazzi in Italia simili a me nella mia stessa situazione, che farebbero di tutto per essere riconosciuti come ‘Italiani’.
Quindi basta con la disinformazione ma soprattutto basta col silenzio!

Perché non è solamente una questione di civiltà ma anche di buon senso.

https://www.change.org/p/senato-della-repubblica-un-milione-di-italiani-senza-diritti-approviamo-subito-la-legge-sulla-cittadinanza

The joys of studying Media…..and teaching it

I finished another semester of teaching this June. It went well, I led two seminar groups on Media & Globalization. We dealt with topics that generally interest me and that are closely related to what I’ve written so far in this blog. As you can guess from its title, we talked about globalization, homogenization of media, contra-flows etc.

The lecturer and convenor of the course taught how non-Western countries tend to remodel Western media programmes, TV series, films and other media products in general. They do this to accommodate their own specific media traditions, values and cultures: make it more appealing to their own cultures and values. We looked at how every media is owned by a few major corporations that tend to be mostly American or European. We saw how easy it is to create one sole voice that influences everyone everywhere. Not a huge surprise to most I guess, but for first year undergrads I suppose so.

Teaching these subjects in fact reminded me of my own educational background as an undergraduate Media & Modern Literature student at Goldsmiths, University of London. Those three years were brilliant but traumatizing in a way, especially the first one: it provided me with many analytical tools to use in my ordinary life, to dissect whatever I used to believe or follow blindly and to closely look at all the media products.
Yes of course this was a blessing as it opened my eyes to all the hidden subliminal messages or agendas. But this also meant that I began to detest all of my childhood favourite shows, films etc. that I had idolized until then. It ruined the enjoyment of the experience at times. I just couldn’t stop analysing, I couldn’t simply relish going to the cinema for example, as I would scrutinize the themes, the choice of certain settings or cast members, lighting. I would always find and still do now (actually now more than ever) some issues that distraught me maybe due to the representation of women, ethnicity, age, sexuality etc.. It would end up with a culmination of overthinking, what you’d call reading too much into stuff.

So this year while teaching, I was aware of the “power” I had within me to change my students’ mindsets. I had the task of moulding their minds to a new way the could view the world, which is by all means a great thing, but a huge ginormous responsibility. I mean, even though I was teaching only 50 students, I felt the weight of Uncle Sam’s words looming over me as he warns Peter Parker A.K.A. Spiderman: “With great power comes great responsibility!”
Okay… I might be exaggerating a bit but I was really eager to help them out and to initiate their journey in media studies. As this year I had the opportunity to organize my own own seminars without the need to follow a set plan, I felt compelled to show them some videos I had gathered during the years that highlighted the problematic of having a Western-centric view of everything. I wanted to give them my own perspective.
Some of the clips I showed included the TedTalk by Mallence Beart-Williams, who talks about the issues surrounding the ways in which different NGOs (such as Oxfam, Unicef and many more) have portrayed Africa during the years, without acknowledging the immense potentiality that the continent has counting on its sole material resources. This speech truly cuts deep into the listener’s conscious, so much so that her voice haunts me everytime I stumble upon words such as development/Africa/charities/money.

Another one was a clip from a stand-up show by comedian Trevor Noah (which I’ve shown my friends hundreds of time) where he mocks the way NGOs depict ‘African children’ in their ads. Honestly worth a watch!

However, the video that had me questioning my own teaching methods when I showed it was the one about the film ‘Moana’.
I was obsessed with ‘Moana’ ealier this year, I personally feel that it’s one of the best Disney films ever made (Shut up! I’m not too old to be watching Disney films!). If you haven’t watched it, I suggest that you do, ASAP! Anyways, my ususal routine during my ‘obsession phase’ is googling every possible information, videos/clips related to it: backstage footage, ‘making of’, playing the soundtrack 24/7. Amonsgt all this I found a ‘Hollywood Reporter- Oscar Animator Roundtable’ Interview from this year where the creators of ‘Moana’ explain their journey developing the idea of that film. They explain that they travelled around the various South Pacific islands in order to immerse themselves in the culture. They studied the Polynesian mythology and met up with different anthropologists, archaeologists, linguists and cultural ambassadors there to make sure that they did right with the various traditions of that area, at least this time around. In fact, these are the same creators that wrote ‘Aladdin’, and in their own words:

“Our research on Aladdin, it was during the First Gulf War. So [for] our research on [it] we went to the LA Convention Centre: there was a Saudi Arabian Expo, and that is a true story.”

!!! (This is my commentary btw)

“(…) So this time around we met up with the people that really stayed involved. It really helped us on the movie, to try to keep the authenticity and make a movie that they would embrace.”

It was astonishing to hear how different their approach had been to ‘Aladdin’ first and ‘Moana’ now. They themselves acknowledged the sheer unsubstantiated research they conducted (or didn’t, thereof) for ‘Aladdin’. When I showed the clip in class close to the end of term, it was received well by most, who were outraged but now made sense of the confusional mix of Muslim/Arabic/Indian/Middle Eastern symbolism present in ‘Aladdin’.  But there were a few who remained unconvinced, who opposed my slight ‘bashing’ of their dear childhood film. One of them in particular was quite adamant to chaning her perception of ‘Aladdin’.

“Yeah, but it’s still a nice film, a GOOD film” she said. Looking at me with a “Why are you bumming down my favourite childhood film????!” look, to which my head tilted at a 45” age, my lips tightly sealed as I didn’t know what to say. After a bit my mouth instinctively opened up to a “wwwwweeeeeellllllll” kind of sound. And that was all I could say.

Because what could I say? I was aware of that feeling, I completely knew what was going through her mind, what it was like to have my favourite films/shows broken down bit by bit, week by week while studying media. And hence all I could convey was a “wwwwweeeeeellllllll” that hinted to a “well, even though you like it that doesn’t mean that it’s ‘good’ film that doesn’t raise any problematic. You will understand it maybe in the years to come, but it’s a journey you have to undertake on your own”.

But this would usually happen with other media products or outlets. I would have to shine a more realistic light on the biases of the BBC, as most my my students this year thought that it was one (if not THE) most objective news source (I guess they didn’t know about the ‘Corbyn-portrayal’, ‘War on terror’ etc.)

I felt guilty most of the time, because I knew I was planting a seed in their brains that would aid them in becoming more independently-minded, developing their critical mindset (maybe with a hint of pessimism but let’s not get into that). It was a difficult task, in a way crushing their dreams or the memories they held dearest, but it had to be done by someone! It was a necessary evil at the end of the day, and I’m glad now that I’ve done it.

I feel that we have to stop worrying about ruining childhood memories, or well I have to stop worrying about not being the “cool teacher” who makes jokes and goes the extra mile to please her students. Instead, I/we need to learn to focus more on how we can make and enjoy media content that celebrates all diversity, be it gender, class, sexuality, age, disability or ethnicity!

Americanization..?

PhD life is so stressful at times… I love what I’m doing, but I’ve been writing so much these past months for my research that I haven’t had lots of time to chill and relax.
Anyways, something quite interesting happened to me the past month. Something that I’ve been waiting to do since my early age: I went for the first time to U.S.A.! Well, only to New York City, but still..

View of NYC from the Staten Island ferry

Not that I’ve been wanting it with all my heart, it’s never been my lifelong dream and there were always other destinations that topped the list of place I wanted to explore. Chance in a way pushed me to go to NYC, so I grabbed that opportunity and went for it (thanks Joanna!).

But I can’t deny the curiosity of finding out what the States are like, because of the role that America played in my life. Despite living in another continent, far away separated by a whole ocean, I grew up completely embedded in American traditions, style, culture and music. I didn’t have to go anywhere or do anything to get immersed in these American values. They would just reach me in the comfort of my own home, specifically in the living room when seated in my sofa in front of the good old Black box. All I had to do was let the ‘process of Americanization’ hit me with its endless Hollywood films, TV series and that sacrosanct wonderful channel that was MTV. That was how Italian media rolled, much like other European countries and other countries globally. In a way, I must admit, it served as a buffer to my liminal upbringing and very confused Sri-Italian identity. This ‘American media invasion’ actually created a safe-space where I didn’t feel the pressure to conform, a fluid/neutral ground where everyone in Italy or even Sri Lanka were equally foreigners.

Even now, it’s hard for me to acknowledge how much of my own urban/popular knowledge has been moulded by this constantly. And being a media student, that’s basically all I do: dissecting every single idea, value, theory I’ve formed in life based on my own media habits! This year I was pushed even further as I was given the opportunity to lead two seminar groups on the module Media & Globalization, where we analysed how media globally has been crafted to favour only some countries and to disseminate the ideologies of those countries (well mostly ONE!). Spoiler alert (..and drumroll): it’s the United States of Americaaaaa!!!
I mean, this is basic media studies curriculum, nothing more really.

So you get the jist… when this opportunity of going to NYC popped up, I couldn’t say no. I was curious to know what all the fuss was about.

I went there and I enjoyed every minute of it, mostly because of the company that surrounded me but also because I was away from my daily routines of LondonTown. I just needed an excuse to get away really. And true fact of NYC: everything is indeed big and bold.

I also got the chance to meet relatives I hadn’t seen in ages: my cousin once removed Priyashan whom I hadn’t seen in 10 years almost and my other cousin thrice removed Minol. I don’t even know if the family-relationship is right, anyways we’re blood related but more than that our parents grew together and my mom was his godmother. It was the first time seeing him in more than 20 years! I mean the few memories I have of him are the jaded ones during my summers in Sri Lanka as a little 4-years-old spoilt brat hehe! I remember him fondly, the Aiya (big brother) with a gentle heart, teasing but never bullying me, across the street whenever we would walk past his house or during the very long church services. From what I saw his heart is still full of kindness and warmth.
It was another glimpse at how our Sri Lankan diasporic community has spread all over the world and it made feel extremely proud that they’re both very well established at their work in Staten Island.

Anyways, moving on from this nostalgic digression, on a general level as was expected my high expectations left me disappointed. So I guess this is also a lesson of the risks that entail having big expectations in life (don’t get your hopes high, folks… just saying 😉 ). No well, it isn’t merely that. I only stayed less than a week there, so I can’t really judge fully. But what left me quite speechless was the amount of inequality that was all around the city. I got to stay both in Brooklyn, Bushwick area known to be a bit ‘rough’ (I didn’t think so tbh), and Midtown New York, 5 minutes away from Times Square. I got to see two sides of the many varied ones that feature in the City.

Yes, I do know that inequalities are inherent in every city, I’m very much aware of that. I’ve witnessed it in every single place I visited, it’s a big issue in the cities where I’ve lived (Milan and London) and undoubtedly in Sri Lanka as well. However, I’ve never seen such stark contrast between ‘the rich’ and ‘the rest’ in a so-called Western city, that sells itself as a model for the rest of the world.

I guess this is the result of capitalism and the neoliberal model and puritan mentality. But it just feels wrong. If this is really how our capitalist cities should be modelled on, I’m not quite certain it is the ideal way a society should function.  If this is the end result, to put it in the simplest of terms: we’re fucked! I’ve never seen so many homeless people in my life, not even in London. The stats are clear about it:

• “In recent years, homelessness in New York City has reached the highest levels since the Great Depression of the 1930s”.

• “In March 2017, there were 61,936 homeless people, including 15,525 homeless families with 23,445 homeless children, sleeping each night in the New York City municipal shelter system. Families comprise just over three-quarters of the homeless shelter population”.

I’ve been to a talk about the future of work and the rise of the automation period, where human will be replaced by machines. We’re not really talking about ‘the future’ as this phenomenon is becoming reality every day that passes by actually, Amazon being one of the most  notorious examples. However, while walking in the streets of Ne York I wondered what the future holds for many people living in the cities around the world and what will happen to humankind in general. My prevision is that homelessness will inevitably increase without a basic income provided by governments. Funding wars or walls is complete non-sense when you’re faulty internally, when your own people are miserable and you’re not doing anything to alleviate the problem. It’s the clichè idea you hear most leftist groups talk about, but it’s freakin’ true!

Honestly it hasn’t put me off from seeing the rest of the States and I intend to do so in the future for sure, but it’s made me deeply question the future that we’re facing, that resembles more and more to all the major dystopian films that I’ve seen so far. That said, I’m not giving up. It’s made me even more motivated to do something even in my little to improve this situation around the world. For now maybe it’s just helping out homeless people in the neighbourhood, but it’s definitely better than nothing. We MUST help each other out, empathy is our only way.

P.S. Funny thing: Joanna got upgraded to” UpperClass” (note the very socially infused term) on Virgin Atlantic on the way back…. and managed to get me in too!!! Sorry just wanted to brush it off at someone! It’s a bit far fetched, but this little thing, made me go: ‘Nati, everything will be alright…!’  So, Yay to luck (and amazing friends)! ;P

Thanks for everything LemonJo ❤

Couldn’t keep our eyes open in Times Square… not kidding #sobright

Ja-Ela people

Found the perfect T-Shirt

Happy faces

For whom the wedding bells toll..? Womanhood in 2017

I’ve already talked or at least hinted on the importance of liminality in my life. For those of you who might be new to this term, the state of liminality consists in “occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold”.
So you can see its relevance to what I’ve already written, the constant inner battle of being Italian, Sri Lankan and now a Londoner. However, I must admit that never have I ever experienced it so much as in the matter of womanhood and marriage.

As I’m only getting older year by year (argh, I know.. time!), this also means that the expectations that people have of me change constantly, or at least some do. I was expected a wide range of things, and not only from my immediate family: get good grades at school, behave like a “socially acceptable girl” (I’m still questioning its meaning myself, so don’t ask me), dress fashionably, slim down to fit the latest female body type, go to uni, be the first in the family to graduate, then find a job quickly etc..

Now at 25 though, I’ve reached that point in life as a woman where the only pressure I feel from others comes down to one single painful topic: marriage. People feel entitled to ask me when I’m thinking of getting married (note that I don’t even have a partner) and mostly to remind me that I’m getting older and that my ‘marriageable’ time is now expiring……..

I know she’s quite problematic at the time this is published.. but it’s still a valid quote

Well, it definitely isn’t a ‘phenomenon’ that started just now as I’ve been asked for marriage proposals since I was 19 when I went back to Sri Lanka for the summer. In general as women we do grow up embedded with the idea of marriage and family through media in Disney cartoons, films, TV shows etc., anywhere in the world.
However, love, marriage and relationships are perceived completely differently in Italy and Sri Lanka. Believe me, Italy is pretty backwards in some aspects especially in the matter of womanhood, but at least women are encouraged to succeed in their work life. Or at last more than in Sri Lanka.
While I am constantly told that this is the age to ‘have fun’ (term that I’ll leave open to interpretation) at least for a little while still in Milan but especially in London where I live, when I visit Sri Lanka in the summer I am constantly reminded of my age and of my biological clock running out.

 

But it’s not only about me in this whole matter. It’s also how my parents manage their own liminal identities as first generation migrants in Italy. You see, they’ve always been extremely traditional and firmly clinged on to their roots regardless of the fact that they’ve lived away from Sri Lanka for most of their lives. They’ve tried to impose their culture on me since I was little (quite forcibly sometimes and with dubious results) either taking me to Sri Lankan dancing/percussion classes (to which now I’m really grateful for though) or constantly reminding me of the values that ‘we as Sri Lankans’ should hold wherever ‘we’ are. This would be a whole different blogpost but the way it all relates to the issue of marriage is my parents own incapability and ongoing questioning of the matter of womanhood. You don’t have to say it: I am my own self and my parents are a separate entity. I acknowledge that. But I would be lying if I told you that they don’t have an influence on my life and the decisions that I take, because they still do, immensely. It should be noted that they’ve never been huge fans of arranged marriages as they themselves got married for love (although we do have some relatives like my cousin whose marriage was arranged and they’re now happily wedded). So despite the fact that they don’t want me to settle for convenience, they do also feel the pressure from their Sri Lankan peers and consequently direct their worries on me… what a wonderful chain!

To be honest I don’t blame them: it is quite hard living with this constant sense of liminality, of always questioning your different life outlooks based on the various cultures you inhabit. Whom I blame are the people who, possibly without even caring for my own well-being, voice their opinions to my parents, feeling entitled to remind them what ‘our traditions’ are. I do get upset with my mom and dad for their weakness in standing up for me, I struggle with their indecisiveness in taking a firm stance on this. They fidget from one view to another by not telling others, as they do with me, that they’re proud of their daughter’s achievements in her studies and career, that they too don’t think of marriage as a priority and that they’d rather want an unmarried daughter rather than one who ended up hastily marrying the wrong person for her.

But I guess it’s bigger than my parents. It’s a social issue and not just Sri Lankan.

I know that I should give it less importance and not get riled up, but it really is so frustrating. I just find it mind-boggling that even with my little successes (okay, I know that media studies are not taken very seriously, but still I was granted a scholarship for a freaking PhD), the meter from which I’m evaluated as a person is whether or not I’ve got married/had babies and accomplished my duties ‘as a woman’, even in Europe. Womanhood isn’t defined by just that and it never should have been in the past either.

In fact, for the time being, I’m content of life to be honest. Actually more than that… I’m pretty happy with the way things are going. I’m extremely satisfied with how things have turned out in my work/study life: I’ve realised that I love teaching (except for all the paperwork that comes with it) and my PhD is progressing (well or not, I’m not sure but let’s just say that it’s coming along). I’m surrounded by beautiful, incredible, talented and all in all over the years I’ve managed to bunch up the best set of friends one could hope for, who support me and push me towards greatness. I live in a city that is perhaps difficult but open and filled with opportunities and in a household that makes me crave to come back home to my new London family.

Last year I had so many breakthroughs that I would’ve never thought possible and that still bewilder me looking back at them now.
But most importantly I’m finally beginning to actually appreciate myself, my background and my personality… in other words I’ve just started to love myself (had to include some Nati-driven cringiness).
So that said, I really can’t conceive how actively and forcibly looking for a romantic partner could improve this situation and this process of self-discovery. Of course I look forward to having a ‘partner in crime’ in the future, I’m not gonna lie. But if that means settling, then I’d rather be alone.

I don’t want to settle just to please a few people who don’t even care about me or to accommodate outdated social ideals and expectations.
I love being the woman that I am today, with all the imperfections that come with it, even though it doesn’t conform to normalized gender roles… actually especially for this! I love having the power to define my own my own womanhood.

I don’t deserve to settle.

 

 

The sculpture above is called ‘Expansion’ and was conceived by Paige Bradley. In his own words:

“From the moment we are born, the world tends to have a box already built for us to fit inside.  Our umbilical cord never seems to be severed; we only find new needs to fill. If we disconnected and severed our attachments, would we shatter our confinements and expand beyond our shell? Would the world look different?  Would we recognize ourselves? Are we the box that we are inside, and to be authentically ‘un-contained’ would we still be able to exist? This is the irony of containment. As long as we don’t push on the walls of our surroundings, we may never know how strong we really are.”

 

 

 

Highway to… development

Have you ever read anew a book after a long time and while skimming some of its most important paragraphs again felt like it had a whole new meaning, that you really understood the point that the author was trying to explain because some sentences of that book could now be used as a good caption to some of your personal experiences/events?

I had this type of revelation this summer in Sri Lanka, when in my room I found a book that I had taken with me 2 years earlier to Thailand: “A Fortune-Teller Told Me: Earthbound Travels in the Far-East” by Tiziano Terzani. Without going into much detail, Terzani was an acclaimed Italian journalist, author and correspondent in East-Asia to German and Italian newspapers. While he describes his “Earthbound Travels” in South-East Asia, he reflects on the changes that are happening in the region, the process of modernization that the continent is undertaking, which in his own opinion isn’t for the better.

In his view, Asia’s problem is that instead of following its own path, instead of looking to improve itself in its own way and on its own terms, the continent is importing the West’s way to success, slowly repressing its diversity. Because of this he believes that modernization implies Westernization, because of its incessant quest to resemble Western countries.

In his own words:

“One after another the countries of Asia have managed to free themselves from the colonial yoke and show the West the door. But now the West is climbing back in by the window and conquering Asia at last, no longer taking over its territories, but its soul. It is doing it without any plan, without any specific political will, but by a process of poisoning for which no antidote has yet been discovered: the notion of modernity. We have convinced the Asians that only by being modern can they survive, and that the only way of being modern is ours, the Western way.

Projecting itself as the only true model of human progress, the West has managed to give a massive inferiority complex to those who are not ‘modern in its image- not even Christianity ever accomplished this! And now Asia is dumping all that was its own in order to adopt all that is Western, whether in its original form or in its local imitations, be the Japanese, Thai or Singaporean.

Copying what is ‘new’ and ‘modern’ has become an obsession, a fever for which there is no remedy. (…). By now no Asian culture can hold out against the trend. There are no more principles or ideals capable of challenging this ‘modernity’. Development is a dogma; progress at all costs is an order against which there can be no appeal. Merely to question the route taken, its morality, its consequences, has become impossible in Asia.” (Terzani, :53-5)

 

When I first read this I understood the point that he was trying to make, but nonetheless I sensed a kind of dogmatism, a type of ‘Western conservative gaze’ that sees lands far far away as ‘exotic’ and wants them to remain as such. I believed Terzani to be one of the many old-fashioned journalists that desire Asia, Africa and South-America to remain immutable as if they were landscape paintings that depicted things that could be considered out of the ordinary European life, extremely different from what is considered normal in many Western countries, stunning but also shocking. I believed that the binary opposition between the so-called ‘West’ and ‘non-West’ was way too marked and outdated as a concept.

I mean, why should anyone now consider development, or better modernization as a negative thing?

Ironically in perfect timing, a week later reading these lines I had the opportunity to take the infamous A2 highway in Sri Lanka as we decided to explore the Southern part of the country, which I had never visited before. Needless to say I was quite excited to see what all the fuss was about regarding this new shiny infrastructure that connected the southern cities to the capital, Colombo.

During all the past summers on the island, travelling to places was a completely different experience to what I was used to in Europe. Being accustomed to moving on highways in Italy, I found Sri Lankan roads questionable to say the least. Main roads connecting big cities were narrow with only two lanes, bumpy and constantly congested.
Hence, when the news arrived that they were starting to build a new high-tech highway, we were all more than pleased (little less so when we came to know that the country had indebted itself right down to the bone with China).

However, after half an hour driving on it, it felt quite bizarre.  Strange because that infrastructure that I was so used to taking in Italy and the UK, surrounded by a scenery and flora that is specific to Europe, was now replaced by palms, thick jungles, elephants, eagles and other wonderful creatures specific to the Sri Lankan island.

It felt plain ‘weird’ to have what I always considered as one of the most emblematic infrastructures of the ‘West’ in Sri Lanka, that clashed terribly with the rest of the country’s traditional architecture/general surroundings. But most of all, what really clashed was the A2 Highway’s symbolic wealth (its representation of grandeur) and most of the population’s actual economic status. And it wasn’t merely the highway per se but all of the various shiny new buildings and architectural projects that are planned to open in other parts of the country.
It was then that Terzani’s words came back to my mind and I truly understood his claim.

Firstly I must admit, I am very well aware of the importance of infrastructure, I know how crucial it is for society. I acknowledge my privileged position, as well: I don’t have to go to work in Colombo, I am not a commuter who might be extremely thankful for this highway that lets him/her come back home earlier to their family, I indeed don’t have a family to feed, I don’t live in a country that constantly has to confront itself with the rest of the modernizing world. Now that I think about it, I too might have that ‘tourist gaze’ that foreigners have when they go to Sri Lanka and all they might see is the beauty of the ‘exotic’.

However, I can’t stop wondering if an alternative option for progress actually exits instead of modernization and Westernization. Maybe it’s too late to change now, but it’s just utterly upsetting to see so many countries succumb so cooperatively. Many places across Sri Lanka are slowly becoming photocopies of tourist cities in Thailand that mainly (or solely) cater to foreigners, suppressing small local economies and the authenticity of the areas.

I don’t understand why a country should prioritize on building lavish infrastructure or mesmerizing opulent buildings (in Colombo especially) when there still  are neglected and underprivileged areas of the country (such as the many slums around the island). I know this situation is not exclusive to Sri Lanka, however it’s really hard to witness my country of origin falling into the same (long-term) undesirable patterns of other countries that only deepen the social divide. Must the whole world follow only one stream of thought?

Even now that I’m in London, various questions keep popping in my head: what does development really mean? Does ‘civilised’ necessarily imply ‘developed’? Can you be modern without being developed?

I guess that civilizations have developed or undergone processes of adaptation relative to their era in the centuries, but I’m quite certain there has never been such a rapid and vast homogenization in history. The diversity and uniqueness of different countries around the world is slowly dying. I’m just not certain whether it is for the better.

Food for thought on social media

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Transnational Mourning

I want to talk about quite a sad aspect of human life: death and pain (yay… happy times…).
This ‘joyous’ subject came to my mind after all the fatalities that took place this past year. 2016 was famously marked by a string of ‘celebrity-deaths’ that touched many of us.

Now, before people start typing Facebook or whatever on the search bar, I just want to ‘reassure’ everyone that it won’t deal with the philosophical questions of death per se, to which I’m sure all of us have a very personal take on.

Instead I want to address my own experience at my grandmother’s funeral this past March in Sri Lanka, the first death in my family I faced as an adult. In the months that followed I had the chance to mentally analyse what I had witnessed in Sri Lanka. I found the way people there deal with loss and pain somehow different from what I’ve seen so far in Milan and London, not only on an individual term but also culturally.

Grief is processed ‘in silence’, privately, with black sunglasses to cover your eyes and mask your pain. Hence I saw in Sri Lanka was simply and utterly… mental, or at least I thought so while I was living it. This was the occasion where I really understood how little I had experienced my Sri Lankan cultural identity.  Everything seemed so strange, quite eccentric in some ways, everything brought to the exaggeration rendering all of what was happening more overwhelming. The wailing was what struck me the most, or actually screaming describes it better. But what I figured out in retrospect was that it was all part of the ritual.

Ritual is the essence in most cultures, but especially in the Sinhalese one it is what drives it, it is culture itself. That said, just imagine how death and funerals are acted out in Sri Lanka.

Let me break it down for you:

-Speaking from a catholic perspective (Buddhist and Hindu traditions in the island are quite similar as well in this respect), when my grandmother was at her deathbed, family and friends gathered around her in her room to pray every morning and afternoon, and recite rosaries every hour (it would usually be 5 or 6 people).

-When she passed away, the embalmers came and took her body: traditionally the ‘dead’ are dressed in their best suits/sarees and ‘displayed’ in the main living room of the house, so that others can come and pay their respect (frankly quite chilling for a funeral-newbie such as myself).

-Usually the funeral takes place on one of the immediate following days. However, due to the high percentage of people living abroad, it’s now common for funerals to be postponed to allow the relatives to come back to Sri Lanka. Generally during these days, it is custom that at least one member of the household stays awake and vigils the ‘corpse’ (we took turns).

-On the day of the funeral, people gathered at our house before the town priest came and the ‘body’ was carried to church. Prayers were recited as usual but it was what followed that shook me to the core. People were crying and wailing in the very anthropological ritualistic sense of the term. My mother and my aunt were crying like I had never seen before. People behind me were encouraging me to do the same. I just felt it was too overwhelming for me. I felt as I was being forced to cry and for that very fact, tears would not come out initially. It all seemed staged for me, like a performance (also due to the fact that a band was playing and accompanying us to the church).
From that night on, family members and the closest friends had to sleep in the living room for 7 days altogether.

-A week later, another lunch/feast was held at the house. Food was first provided to 7 homeless people and then to the rest of the guests (this is called ‘Dhane’) and the latter was repeated a month later.

I could go into more detail, as there are many other actions and gestures that featured in this ritual, but I’ll spare you that.
But what I understand from all of this looking back at it now, is that this type of ritual/performative act helps many cope with the loss of their beloved. The rather staged wailing might be a liberating way of confronting sorrow and acting upon grief, a type of emotional exorcism as my colleague Charusmita pointed out.

On this very matter, an interesting article, “Bhutan’s dark secret to Happiness”, explores how the Himalayan kingdom has become one of the happiest countries in the world exactly by contemplating about death on a daily basis and processing pain through ritual.

“Ritual provides a container for grief, and in Bhutan that container is large and communal. After someone dies, there’s a 49-day mourning period that involves elaborate, carefully orchestrated rituals. (…) It is better than any antidepressant. (…). The Bhutanese might appear detached during this time. They are not. They are grieving through ritual.”

Some months later, I had the chance to talk about this experience with my own PhD supervisor Dr. Roza Tsagarousianou, who is originally from Greece and could relate to this clash of cultures in the act of mourning. We pondered on the ritualistic difference in funerals between the various cultures. In her view humans are becoming more private whereas before it was a communal event, or better a communal grief, as people would generally get over their grief as a collective. She describes it as an “anthropological reminiscent”, a term that struck me deeply. You can still witness it in various other cultures such as in Rajasthan, India, in the custom of Rudaali, where professional mourners are hired at funerals of upper caste families to show that the deceased are deeply missed.

I wonder now what I should consider ‘normal’. In a future event should I behave and grief as a Sri Lankan, be ‘loud’ when dealing with sorrow, or should I remain composed and private in my mourning as I’ve seen in Milan and London? Where does my identity lie in mourning?
In fact, getting back to my ordinary reality in London after the funeral was the hardest bit. I was expected to get on with my life as usual or at least I felt so, but this completely the opposite of how I was expected to behave back in Sri Lanka. The frantic life of London made no space for lamentation and bereavement, and even more so neither did all the assignments I had put on pause. This cultural and reality clash was one of the most unsettling experiences of my life.

I’m not certain the right behaviour in mourning is, probably because there is none.
What I do know is that being completely private, holding back on emotions, putting up a front that shows strength and never a sign of weakness is counter-productive. For the moment being, I truly believe that crying and wailing are more than just okay as vulnerability is key to our times.

 

A poem of Rumi on the matter:

Crying out loud and weeping are great resources.
A nursing mother, all she does
is wait to hear her child.

Just a little beginning whimper
and she’s there.

Cry out. Do not be stolid and silent
with your pain. Lament,
and let the milk of loving flow into you.

The hard rain and the wind
are ways the cloud has
to take care of us.

~ Rumi

 

Extracomunitari… that dirty word

 

Coming back to Milan, Italy where I was born and raised, is always quite traumatic at first. Don’t get me wrong, I love my city with all of its contradictions, but I’ve lived in London for now over 6 years and ‘ethnically’ speaking I’m Sinhalese, so I’ve never felt fully at ease in Milan. Also, to be honest, there’s always something that reminds me of my ‘Otherness’ whenever I come back. It might be certain news on the TV, or even a comment heard while in the supermarket or a joke.

As it happened the last time I came back to Milan a friend invited me to her place for dinner (one of the very few remaining friends in my hometown). We were joined by a friend of hers who I had seen once before. All in all, I thought she was delightful: for over 2 hours we talked about relationships, friendships, family, gossiped a bit and bonded quite quickly. As it was getting late, we began cleaning up the table and my friend asked me if I had finally succeeded in finding a room to stay during the following 5 months of research in Milan (you can find more about my research here). As we talked about a hypothetical house which I really liked in Isola-Maciachini (an up and coming area in the Northern part of the city) but was not available anymore, the other girl replied: “It’s better off this way. Maciachini is a brutta zona (bad area). It’s full of extracomunitar!”.

Now.. Extracomunitari technically means immigrants in Italy who originally come from outside the EU, but it’s widely used as a derogatory term that groups all the ‘shady’ immigrants.

The ‘infamous’ Maciachini station

With that in mind, in that moment, I first looked at myself wondering if my primary extracomunitaria marker, a.k.a. my skin, had magically changed colour, which fortunately it hadn’t! I then looked at her wondering if her remark was due to the fact that she wanted to console me for not getting the house or for the fact that to her eyes I am no foreigner/extracomunitaria. I was indeed born and raised in Italy, also I think I speak fluent Italian, but I can’t change the fact that I wasn’t technically considered Italian for 18 years, as the law in the country requires. This has led to several identity crises and even now I don’t feel particularly comfortable saying that I’m Italian. So when someone mocks/insults or misuses the word extracomunitario/a I tend to take it quite personally.

Again that girl was well-learned, university educated, seems really smart and I’m sure she isn’t completely racist, but in that tiny moment she actually fell into that category just by following the general normative belief/view associated with the word extracomunitari. And the ironic thing is, I bet she has never talked with the extracomunitari living in Maciachini.

Yes, Maciachini is known to be dangerous (honestly what place isn’t? ) but the fact that she stressed that the presence of extracomunitari was the primary cause for the areas unsafeness, implicitely implying that they are all criminals, is all in all quite worrying. It signals to a bigger issue in Italy, as well as many other places in the world.

An ‘extracomunitari shop’

The worst part was that I didn’t react to her remark and instead fell silent while I was boiling inside. It’s such a given in Italy to use extracomunitari to justify all the wrong things going on in the country, as it happens in most places around the world. Instances like this take place every time I come back to Milan (I’m not exaggerating) and sadly the ‘offenders’ are often friends.  And I feel that it has become so common to hear this type of discrimination that I myself seem to brush it off when it happens to me. Also because most times some Italians discriminate ‘good-humouredly’, or at least they think so.

Kossi Komla Ebri calls them ‘Imbarazzismi’ (word pun which plays with the equivalent Italian words Imbarazzanti Razzismi, embarrassing racisms), which he explains are a type of racist insults masked as jokes, bad ones it should be stressed, funny slurs used to solely render the interlocutor in the conversation a ‘pacioccone spiritoso’ one would say in Italian, a humorous easy-going person. It should be stressed that, yes of course, this happens in other countries as well, however in Italy this seems to be the norm and it’s largely unquestioned and uncensored even on TV.

Because of my dual culture, nationalities and overall transnational life all of this has always been quite tricky to handle throughout the years and especially now as I’m studying and researching on these issues.

Although I believe my identities to be more balanced now, it’s a constant struggle. I’ve been called a ‘coconut’ at least four times this year only, for being brown on the outside and white in the inside. I wish it were this simple!  Although I find this idiom interesting and quite funny, I don’t feel it fully represents me. Also, as my Indian PhD colleague says: “Aren’t we all a bit ‘white’ inside anyways?”.

For this reason, I’ve decided to write this blog, primarily to share how I feel about my own experience as a transnational child. So this blog will include stories from my own personal life, peculiar past events, or reflections for the days/years to come and will be a platform to let out my thoughts in a non-academic way. I’ll try to apply my knowledge around issues of diversity, transnationalism, globalisation, diaspora, living (especially living in this complicated world).

 

My story is one of diasporas: from Sri Lanka to Italy and Italy to London. I hope you will enjoy reading this blog in the months to come as I unveil this complicated yet wonderful transnational journey.

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