Mount Holyoke is a predominantly white institution, and it is undeniable that white people make up a majority of the student population, as well as the administration. While one could argue that none of this treatment was intentional or race-related, intention does not matter as much as the impact on students of color.
The opening ceremony, through both its obsession with its new Western guests and its mimicry of Hollywood galas, reflects how Western validation still forms an integral part of South Asia’s identity formation and reach for global recognition. In this preoccupation with catering to global, or more specifically Western validation, indigenous art suffers the harm of reductive promotion that does no justice to the “rich cultural history” that Ambani boasts of promoting.
Roald Dahl Story Company and Puffin Books partnered with Inclusive Minds to edit Dahl’s stories. Photo courtesy of solarisgirl via Flickr.
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Opinion Editor
Content warning: This article discusses antisemitism and racism and mentions fatphobia.
Roald Dahl is a celebrated British storyteller best known for his works in children’s literature, adult fiction and screenwork. His forays into children’s literature include 16 stories, such as “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” “Matilda” and “The Witches.” These books gained popularity for their peculiar sense of humor that accompanied heroic stories of children who combat the adult world. They have been translated into 68 languages, adapted for the screen and the stage and remain as must-reads on the bookshelves of homes, libraries and schools worldwide.
More recently, Dahl has become the center of a literary debate over the derogatory language coloring his books’ contents. The Telegraph reported on Feb. 17, 2023, that Dahl’s works were undergoing content revisions by Puffin Books and the Roald Dahl Story Company. Per the article, “the publishers have given themselves license to edit the writer as they see fit, chopping, altering and adding where necessary to bring his books in line with contemporary sensibilities.” Puffin Books and the Roald Dahl Story Company partnered with Inclusive Minds, an organization aimed at, according their website, “authentic representation” in children’s literature by supporting diversity, inclusion, and accessibility to tackle offensive vocabulary in Dahl’s literature and adhere to what the Telegraph terms as “contemporary sensibilities.” With over a hundred edits to his works, their joint efforts aim to undo Dahl’s insensitivity toward gender, race and physical appearances, among others.
On the one hand, the revisions to Dahl’s texts are a welcome maneuver that works toward making children’s literature decreasingly stereotyped in its content and more sensitive to ideas of diversity and inclusion. However, while it can be lauded as a way to make a cherished anthology of books less offensive, simply modifying the text’s vocabulary does not undo the history of stereotypes, bigotry and hatred that Dahl’s texts have perpetrated. Rather than focusing on the prose of the past, our priorities in supporting inclusive children’s media should focus on contemporary work that better represents today’s goals for literature.
According to The Telegraph, changes have been implemented in ten of Dahl’s books: “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” “Esio Trot,” “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” “George’s Marvellous Medicine,” “James and the Giant Peach,” “Matilda,” “The BFG,” “The Enormous Crocodile,” “The Twits” and “The Witches.” One of Dahl’s most notable works, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” follows the story of Charlie and four other contestants, children meant to contrast our earnest protagonist, who win a golden ticket to tour Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Augustus Gloop is one of the contestants. In the original text, Dahl describes Gloop as “enormously fat.” After revisions, he is simply an “enormous” nine-year-old.
Another Dahl story, “Matilda,” follows the story of child prodigy Matilda as she navigates home and school life. In her story, the constant mention of “mothers” and “fathers” in the text has been changed to “parents.” As an avid reader, Matilda now reads the books of Jane Austen instead of Rudyard Kipling. A third story, “The BFG,” follows young Sophie’s encounters with, as the title suggests, a big friendly giant whose characterizations have also been rewritten. In the text, the “tall black figure” is a “tall dark figure,” and the “long pale wrinkly face” is now a “long wrinkly face.” The Telegraph notes that tweaks to Dahl’s texts have been common in the past as well. For example, the Oompa Loompas in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” were “extensively reimagined over the years.” Still, the current set of revisions is the first large-scale change to his works.
These changes are imperative — they undo the harm of offensive language that has permeated widely read literature. These alterations become increasingly pertinent when noting that the primary audience of Dahl’s books is comprised of children. Children’s literature has the potential to educate and impact its young readers. Reading habits in children help them learn about themselves, the world and how to communicate with others. Here it becomes crucial to evaluate the types of books kids read, the content of these books and how they might influence children’s critical thinking processes. In my own childhood, I grew up reading several of his books, including all those that Puffins Books and the Roald Dahl Story Company are now revising. While I loved Dahl’s catchy stories and inspiring young protagonists, as a child I was not fully aware of the harm of the texts. Revisiting them as an adult, I immediately realized the blatant bigotry that underlined the stories. Offensive language, as seen in Dahl’s books, can be incredibly harmful in this process, further emphasizing the importance of edits. After all, Dahl is one of the most famous and beloved children’s authors, and it is only right to make his works more conscious in their portrayals. Aware of the popularity of Dahl’s books and the potential for their content to impact young readers, the Roald Dahl Story Company and Puffin Books’ endeavors align with making children’s literature more sensitive in content and are more conscious of its ability to influence readers. In an article for The Guardian, a Roald Dahl Story Company spokesperson discussed the revisions: “Our guiding principle throughout has been to maintain the storylines, characters and the irreverence and sharp-edged spirit of the original text. Any changes made have been small and carefully considered.” Herein, revising Dahl’s language helps future young readers engage with his widely popular stories without allowing implicit biases to form through their reading habits.
Nonetheless, censoring Dahl’s language does not do enough justice to the history of bigotry that both the author and his works carry. Dahl, while celebrated for his gift of writing, was guilty of racism, antisemitism and misogyny. A New York Times article from 2020 discusses how Dahl’s family had to publicly apologize for the author’s outspoken antisemitic comments in his career as a public figure and author. The Roald Dahl Story Company's website features the joint apology of the company and Dahl’s family for the “lasting and understandable hurt caused by Roald Dahl’s antisemitic statements.” The apology goes on to state that “those prejudiced remarks are incomprehensible to us and stand in marked contrast to the man we knew and to the values at the heart of Roald Dahl’s stories, which have positively impacted young people for generations.”
However, Dahl’s family’s apology does not erase the harm of his hatred, and continuing to celebrate this author erases his problematic past without holding him or his works accountable. Dahl’s sentiments cannot be separated from his work, and this becomes increasingly evident in the manifestation of his bigoted ideas in his literature. In an article for CNN, David M. Perry discusses how Dahl’s antisemitism shows through in his books, such as “The Witches.” Perry discusses how “Dahl created a caste of hook-nosed women who can literally print money and who like to kidnap and murder innocent children. The characterization appears to draw directly from the blood libel slander, the medieval and modern conspiracy theory that Jews annually kidnap and murder Christian children.” Simply editing language that reflects bigotry does not undo the underlying sentiments of the stories and characters. If publishers are committed to inclusion and diversity, they must do better than continuing to champion Dahl’s work. The company spokesperson’s claim of revising texts to “maintain the storylines, characters, and the irreverence and sharp-edged spirit of the original text” is incongruent with their desire to do right by ideas of inclusion and sensitivity.
A Time article similarly builds on the idea that Dahl’s works reflect his obvious racism. The article explores how the Oompa Loompas in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” were meant to be members of an African Pygmy tribe and describes other instances of bigotry and stereotypes in Dahl’s work. For example, in “James and the Giant Peach,'” as per the Time article, “the Grasshopper declares at one point: ‘I’d rather be fried alive and eaten by a Mexican.’” Dahl’s misogyny, ableism and fatphobia are similarly ubiquitous in his books. Characters across books are ridiculed for being fat, Augustus Gloop being one of many. A 2016 article by The Irish Times discusses how Dahl wrote about women, specifically in “The Witches,” where “the witches themselves are terrifying and vile things, and always women.” Here, it is clear that mere revisions are not enough to tackle the hate that pervades Dahl’s literary canon. Simply editing the language used to describe the Oompa Loompas that makes their tribal roots obvious doesn’t erase the problematic root of these characters’ creation. The Telegraph notes that if the publishers had to carry out more than 100 edits, the rampant nature of offensive content in the books is already established in its framework, and simply removing the obvious bias does not undo its place in the work.
The current drive toward revising Dahl’s work allows us to evaluate whether or not we want to continue heralding his works as essentials of children’s literature. While Dahl may be considered a classic for his excellent penmanship, we cannot easily pardon the bigotry and hatred packed within his novels. Removing Dahl from the literary canon is not easy, but we can treat him as a product of his time and move him to the back of the shelf instead of continuing to actively promote his work. With this, we have an opportunity to make space for new prose, instead of revised literature, that carries the potential to educate children on diversity and inclusion over bias and stereotypes. While revisions are a step toward addressing and changing the problematic past of the writer, publishing houses and agencies can do better by their promise of diversity and inclusion by focusing on the creation of new literature.
Graphic by Sunny Wei ‘23.
Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Opinion Editor
The BBC released a two-part documentary in January 2023 titled “India: The Modi Question”, investigating Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s lengthy reign of Islamophobia within the country. Researched and created by a team of filmmakers who are of Indian origin and live in the United Kingdom, the first part of the documentary traces back to Modi’s involvement in the 2002 communal riots in Gujarat, which occurred during his time as the state’s chief minister. The second part of the documentary, released a week later on Jan. 24, builds hereon to Modi’s prime ministership and continued communal politics in governing India. Packed in among horrifying footage of the riots alongside interviews, new and historical, both parts of “India: The Modi Question” probe into the hushed-up politics of the world’s largest democracy and expose the long-simmering anti-Muslim sentiments of its current leader.
While the BBC documentary did not air in India, it was met with backlash from the Indian state for its content and was quickly dismissed as a mere propaganda scheme against the ruling leader and his party, the Bharatiya Janata Party. For instance, as per Naman Ramachandran for Variety, on Jan. 19, Indian foreign service officer and Spokesperson of the Ministry of External Affairs Arindam Bagchi blamed the United Kingdom for “[t]he bias, the lack of objectivity, and frankly a continuing colonial mindset” that permeates what he called a “propaganda piece.”
What is concerning is that the Indian state has not responded with critique alone, but also censorship. Along with officials publicly condemning the documentary, the Indian government proceeded to employ state emergency powers to ban the circulation of the first part of the documentary on social media platforms. While the documentary was not officially banned within the country, the government used more surreptitious methods to make the piece inaccessible to those in India. Segments of the documentary were banned from YouTube by India’s Ministry of Information and Broadcasting in cooperation with YouTube’s parent company, Alphabet. In a New York Times article, Sameer Yasir discussed how the ministry employed the ban through “‘I.T. rules’ passed in 2021 that allow … [the ministry] to suppress virtually any information that appears online.” Twitter’s ban, while not as extensive as YouTube’s, has also restricted access to parts of the documentary within the country.
The Indian state response to “India: The Modi Question” is harrowing. The BJP government used draconian laws to censor criticism of Modi and his political agendas, reinforcing the party’s already feared threat to Indian democracy since their ascent to power in 2014. The move to restrict the BBC documentary highlights the dangers of Indian digital surveillance in continuing to encroach on privacy of its people while limiting their access to information and their freedom of speech and press, rights enshrined in Article 19 of the Indian constitution.
“The move to restrict the BBC documentary highlights the dangers of Indian digital surveillance in continuing to encroach on privacy of its people while limiting their access to information and their freedom of speech and press, rights enshrined in Article 19 of the Indian constitution.”
The restriction of media circulation within India is not a new development of 2023. The country, under the BJP rule, has a history of media monopolization and suppression of opposing intellect, to an extent that journalists, filmmakers and other creators’ lives are at risk. Additionally, the dangers of surveillance are evident in the BJP government’s alleged use of Pegasus software, an invasive high-level software used to tap into people’s personal devices. The software has the ability to turn on phone’s microphones and cameras to spy on their owners. A 2021 Wire article was able to identify 174 targets of the spyware’s clients, among whom were “politicians, journalists, activists, students and many more.” The Wire staff were further able to surmise that since the spyware was sold only to “vetted governments” it would then be “safe to assume that these individuals were targets or potential targets of government or military agencies.” The Indian government came under fire, especially by opposition party leaders, for potential use of the software. Whether or not they were using it themselves, a Hindustan Times article claims that experts probing the spyware’s usage within the country did not receive the cooperation of the BJP government. This position of usage or complacency toward invasive spyware, if holding any validity, is dangerous and encroaches on the privacy of citizens and residents to establish an atmosphere of state-sanctioned control over speech, information and dissent.
Regardless of if these allegations are true, this atmosphere of media control very much exists in India. Journalists, filmmakers and other activists expressing diversity of thought outside the BJP’s are fired, arrested and even murdered. Gauri Lankesh, editor of the leftist weekly Bangalore-based paper Lankesh Patrike, is one such example. Lankesh was an avid activist for the rights of marginalized minorities of the country and an outspoken critique of right-wing politics and the ruling BJP and Modi. On Sept. 5, 2017, Lankesh was assassinated outside her house, allegedly by right-wing extremists. In 2022, her murder investigation put members of a right-wing group attacking “anti-Hindu” journalists on trial. Furthermore, during her time of death, while crowds rallied to honor her, Modi and the BJP offered no comment. Some BJP supporters even celebrated her assassination on social media platforms.
Lankesh is not alone. In an article for the New York Times, Rollo Romig charts how the “Committee to Protect Journalists has been keeping track of 35 cases of Indian journalists murdered specifically for their work since 1992, and only two of these cases have resulted in a successful conviction” as of 2019. Reporters Without Borders notes 58 journalist deaths within India since 2003. Dissent outside traditional journalism is also under threat under Modi’s rule. Indian activist Teesta Setalvad was arrested in 2022 on the basis of trying to falsely smear Modi by investigating the same Gujarat riots covered by “India: The Modi Question.” Furthermore, an article for The Hindu chronicles how the Human Rights Watch Report of 2023 documented that “Indian authorities had ‘intensified and broadened’ their crackdown on activist groups and the media through 2022.” The threat to dissent has created an atmosphere wherein opposing intellect, if created, has no place. Documentary filmmaker Anand Patwardhan’s work covers the rise of Hindu nationalism in India, however, he fears officially screening his work in the country. In 2020, Patwardhan spoke to the New York Times about his film “Reason,” covering the death of Indian activists, and how the government banned its screening in Kerala. Students were also arrested for trying to screen another of Patwardhan’s movies, “In the Name of God,” and classrooms were stormed by men who, the article explains, “shouted slogans and kept saying that the film offended their Hindu sentiments.”
It then becomes obvious that those within the country dissenting against the BJP and Narendra Modi live in a country that poses an immense threat to both their works and lives. This directly conflicts with freedom of speech as per article 19 of the Indian constitution, whose meaning has been manipulated by the current Indian government. The only place where diverse thoughts and opinions may find a platform to challenge the country is from outside it. Yet, the Indian state still finds ways to censor these works and dismiss them under different pretexts. For example, in 2016, the BBC aired a documentary titled India’s Daughter that chronicled the 2012 Nirbhaya gang-rape case that took place in New Delhi. As per the BBC, the film’s set screening on NDTV was “outlawed by the Indian authorities on the grounds of ‘objectionable content,’” and filmmaker Leslee Udwin was accused of disrespecting Indian women as well as breaking prison contracts to gain interviews with the guilty.
There is no safe space for dissent against the Indian government or any of their politics. Those in India are left without access to anything but what the government wants them to engage with. The 2023 BBC documentary becomes yet another example, dismissed by the Indian government as the product of a colonial mindset. The dismissal removes the critical understanding of how Indians have no safety in creating media within the country, and must turn outward to find any place from where they can offer perspectives without fear of death. And yet, even from outside, their thoughts are successfully silenced by the Indian government.
““India: The Modi Question” is a chance for audiences to hold the BJP government responsible for Hindu nationalism and violation of the secular vision of India through Modi’s direct involvement in communal riots targeting Muslims.”
“India: The Modi Question” was created by a production team of Indian filmmakers who conducted in-depth research on the topic before the BBC aired the docu-series on their channel. To recap, the documentary exposes that Modi was directly responsible for the anti-Muslim Gujarat riots of 2002, which took place against the backdrop of the Ayodhya Hindu-Muslim tension. The Sabarmati Express, filled with Hindus traveling from Ayodhya, was supposedly stopped in a Muslim-majority region and attacked and torched by Muslims, successfully killing 58 passengers. In retaliation, Hindus attacked different Muslim neighborhoods across the state, killing over 1000, demolishing religious sites and displacing families into refugee camps. The BBC documentary follows Modi’s involvement in the state-sanctioned retaliations against Muslims after the incident concerning the Sabarmati Express. Modi has long been faced with criticism for his complacency as chief minister during the riots, but the documentary sheds new light by holding him directly responsible for the event. It verbalizes a somewhat known Islamaphobic history for audiences across India and the globe, threatening Modi’s self-perceived reputation as the changemaker of India.
Its contents cannot simply be discarded as propaganda for its audiences. The documentary follows in-depth interviews with party leaders, journalists, riot victims, activists and others with direct connections to the event, enabling honest storytelling. Banning it dismisses the positionality of its creators and their desire to share a story important to them with audiences who might find it equally important to themselves. It reflects the country’s long-standing intolerance toward critique and their abuse of power to do away with it. This then also does injustice to those within India who desire to engage with materials outside the BJP perspective. Indian citizens and residents must have the right to access information to help inform, educate and allow them to hold power systems in check. “India: The Modi Question” is a chance for audiences to hold the BJP government responsible for Hindu nationalism and violation of the secular vision of India through Modi’s direct involvement in communal riots targeting Muslims.
Along with the sly methods to ban the documentary on social media platforms and discredit the work, the state has also attacked individuals attempting to find ways around the ban to access and watch the film. Students across the country attempted to watch the documentary despite the ban, using a VPN on their phones and personal devices. They also attempted screenings on their college campuses. However, their attempts have been thwarted by government protest. For example, student activists at Jamia Millia Islamia in New Delhi were detained by the police and screenings were restricted by the university itself. The case has been similar at Jawaharlal Nehru University. In another Delhi university, the power supply was cut off before screening. In addition to being similar to the suppression of Patwardhan’s movies, this further alienates those within India from beginning to form any vision and educate themselves on any opinion that differs from the narrow nationalistic vision of the government.
The reception of “India: The Modi Question” reflects how journalism, filmmaking and other forms of media and activism continue to face challenges within the Indian state. While it is getting increasingly difficult for the government to manage ways to censor media within the country in our ever-growing digitally connected world, there is still a dangerous surveillance campaign prying into people’s lives. Modi’s censorship of the BBC documentary in India is an example of the state still attempting to control the media consumption of its people. It emphasizes the dangers of creating or engaging with opposing intellects in India by exposing the threat it poses to careers and lives of activists of different kinds. India is currently under a threat to its democracy, and we must continue to push and challenge the state in ways that we can, while finding the tricky balance of protecting the lives of those who are brave enough to speak up. The documentary is one step toward a continued effort to find ways to confront the government and champion the torchbearers of truth that have suffered at the hands of the state.
Signage at the Golden Globe Awards. Image courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons, Peter Dutton.
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23 & Kaveri Pillai ’23
Opinion Editors
In Tollywood’s fictionalized period film “RRR,” hero Alluri Sitarama Raju turns to a British colonizer during a party to ask, “Not salsa, not flamenco, my brother … do you know Naatu?” When the man bewilderedly fumbles, “What is Naatu?” Raju and fellow hero Komaran Bheem break into song and dance, educating their surrounding British crowd on Naatu, or Indian dance, through their coordinated grooves matched to the energetic beat of their Telugu lyrics.
The dance number, aptly titled “Naatu Naatu,” has proceeded to garner global recognition, winning a 2023 Global Globe Award in the best original song category and beating the competing songs, Rihanna’s “Lift Me Up,” Lady Gaga and BloodPop’s “Hold My Hand,” Roeben Katz and Guillermo del Toro’s “Ciao Papa” and Taylor Swift’s “Carolina.”
The Golden Globes were televised on Jan. 10, 2023, to audiences across the world to celebrate the excellence of television and films produced in 2022. After its problematic history of lacking diversity and inclusion, the Hollywood Foreign Press Association’s acknowledgment of the problem was evident at the ceremony.
This year’s Golden Globes saw monumental wins for people of color, with movies like “Everything Everywhere All At Once” and television shows such as “Abbott Elementary” carving spaces for non-white-centric content and recognition in media. The HFPA also strived to go beyond the United States’ contribution to film and television with countries worldwide receiving a nod of approval from the academy.
“Naatu Naatu” and its movie, “RRR,” have found a spot in this marketplace. The song’s Golden Globe Award is accompanied by a list of accompanying accolades for “RRR.” Among others, the film was also nominated in the Golden Globes’ best non-English language film category and for Critic’s Choice Awards in the categories of best picture, best director, best visual effects, best foreign language film and best song, winning in the last two of these categories. “Naatu Naatu” has also been nominated in the best achievement in music written for motion pictures (original song) category for the upcoming 2023 Academy Awards, making it the first Indian feature film to be nominated in a category other than best international film. Furthermore, “RRR” was touted by the Hollywood Reporter to be one of the highest-grossing Telugu-language films and one of the most streamed Indian films ever on Netflix.
At first glance, “Naatu Naatu” and “RRR’s” global recognition is a welcome celebration that acknowledges the scope of Indian cinema beyond the seemingly more familiar Bollywood industry. Having South Indian roots ourselves, we have noticed how South Indian culture is often perceived as embarrassing and uncivilized. South Indian films are similarly ridiculed for their cringe-worthy content, even within South Asia. Herein, the win for “Naatu Naatu” felt like a triumph for India’s diversity of language and culture.
Yet, our joy over representation is accompanied by critique. “Naatu Naatu’s” win and “RRR’s” popularity on an international platform, while exciting on the surface, raises concern as to what qualifies an Indian film for global recognition.
The song and film fault in prioritizing whiteness over creating a space for authentic Indian representation. Its reception then emboldens the obvious performative move by the West — here the HFPA — to represent for representation’s sake, a model that caters to the familiarities of Western audiences over choosing the best of Indian cinema and representation of its people.
“RRR,” short for Rise, Roar, Revolt, is a 2022 Tollywood, or Telugu-language, film directed by S.S. Rajamouli set in 1920s colonial India. The action-packed epic follows a fictionalized account of two real freedom fighters, Alluri Sitarama Raju and Komaram Bheem, the dance experts from “Naatu Naatu,” as they join hands to revolt against the colonial British rule of the time.
Riddled with Hindu nationalist and mythological themes, the film explores a narrative chronicling brotherhood and unity amongst Indians during colonial rule. “Naatu Naatu” echoes the crux of the film’s themes of standing up to colonial oppression. When Raju and Bheem attend a party primarily populated by the British, one of the men, motivated by jealousy over Bheem’s courtship of one of the white women, ridicules Bheem for his brownness.
He mockingly asks his fellow colonizers, “What do [Indians] know about art? About finesse? About dance?” He then shows off his own moves in tango, swing, flamenco and salsa, pointing out the brown man’s lack of access to this culture. However, Raju and Bheem are undeterred and join forces to show how “naatu,” the Indian dance, is not inferior. The two men are able to stand up for their culture and push back against the colonizers’ mistreatment of Indian culture. Their dances soon infect the whole crowd of Britishers, who begin dancing along with them. Raju and Bheem are successful in correcting a bias in the colonizer on Indian “finesse” as well as culture, art and dance.
The song seems to champion Indian culture and challenge its ridicule by the colonizer; there in itself is the problem. “Naatu Naatu” is still a song obsessed with the Western audience and fixing their misconceptions of what it means to be Indian. The British men are prevented by their female counterparts from stopping Raju and Bheem’s dance, and the enthusiastic women take part in the revelry.
Herein, a power dynamic is immediately established, wherein white approval forms an integral part of the two men’s celebration of their culture. While chronicling the anguish of colonial India, the film’s ability to exist globally then also establishes how there needs to be white presence on screen for it to become globally relevant. However, it is not the duty of the Indian film to coddle Western audiences, especially their former colonizer, and spoon-feed them respect and decency toward their culture.
In an article for Times of India, Bharti Dubey and Almas Mirza discuss “Naatu Naatu’s” global success, owing it to how the song was “specifically written to build the emotions and propel the story and the narrative of the film forward.” Contextualizing “Naatu Naatu” in the film strengthens how this internationally acclaimed piece of art merely scratches the surface of the topics it attempts to cover and really does forget about doing right by its characters.
“RRR” is a film that showcases Indians in reductive portrayals to favor the cinematic experience. For example, Komaram Bheem, one of its two central characters, is a Gond Adivasi. He is first introduced in a jungle setting, pouring blood over himself and fighting a tiger somewhere in the Adilabad district of Hyderabad. The Gond tribals are immediately associated with animalistic tendencies, reinforcing long-standing stereotypes about tribal populations.
What makes this even more harmful is that Bheem is a fictionalized version of an actual historical figure with living family. While the film does establish itself as a fictionalized account, Mohan Guruswamy aptly points out in an article for LiveWire how this is still dangerous: “When you appropriate the lives and personalities of two genuine heroes for a tawdry commercial excess, it doesn’t absolve the makers of distortion.”
“RRR” succeeds in caricaturing the real-life accounts of its two revolutionaries and the communities to which they belong. What becomes a priority is using the heroism of the South Indian cinematic experience to simultaneously correct and placate the West. Any real simmering colonial discontent, as demonstrated in the song alone, is shoved under the carpet, as we see the two main characters surrounded by the English upper class as they entertain them with their skillful dance steps and catchy music.
Award ceremonies must do better than capitalize on films like “RRR.” What makes “Naatu Naatu’s” Golden Globe win seem even more performative is the recent commercial success and market growth of the Tollywood industry. It then appears as if the song’s win is a dual attempt by the award ceremony to absolve their historic whiteness crisis as well as tap into a new profitable market.
“RRR” and “Naatu Naatu” are not the best that India has to offer. Their nominations echo a superficial celebration of a film that reifies regressive tropes and calls for more critical choices on what films we choose to celebrate.
Mount Holyoke College has recently been abuzz with conversations regarding the College’s recent popularity in conservative media. Sprawling across social media meme pages to classroom discussions and casual conversations exchanged between peers, the name Annabella Rockwell has become a constant in many of our vocabularies over the past two weeks and since we returned from November break.
I have gone entire days where I have eaten alone in the Dining Commons for every meal. It can be monotonous to not have anyone to converse with. Yet, I never go up to the many tables filled by my peers and ask to sit with them. In November 2022, the The Division of Student Life implemented a new dining feature attempting to change all that: signs you can put on your table inviting strangers to come and sit.
Hansell’s email on low enrollment in certain courses, accompanied by the ensuing course cancellation, reflects a concerning case of diverse course offerings within the Mount Holyoke College Department of English being sidelined. This Spring 2023 semester registration trend reflects a need for the English department to do better by its diverse course offerings and better institute structures to incorporate the multicultural perspective within the department.
Mount Holyoke College returned to a fully residential experience in Fall 2021 for the first time since the campus began remote learning in March 2020. In an email to students from March 2021, former College president Sonya Stephens addressed the Mount Holyoke community about plans for Fall 2021 and beyond. Stephens stated, “Faculty and students will be engaged in our campus learning environment together, and we will make any adjustments needed to continue to protect health and safety.”
Courtesy of Patina Photography.
The second season of “Indian Matchmaking” demonstrates that reality television often depicts situations and people in false, harmful ways that do not align with the experiences of people on the show.
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Opinion Editor
On August 10, 2022, Netflix reality show “Indian Matchmaking” returned for a second season, drawing audiences back into its trap of arranged marriage matchmaking fiascos. The first episode of the season — titled “I’ve Dated Lots of Chicks” — opens to host and professional matchmaker Sima Taparia happily attending the marriage of two of her clients. Against the backdrop of her successful project, Taparia expressed her joy in being a matchmaker, “First is marriage, then love. That is the beauty of these arranged marriages.” The season subsequently picks up for eight episodes of Taparia’s matchmaking trial and errors.
“Indian Matchmaking” brings a strong potential to the screen in explaining what Indian marriages look like. In an article for The Juggernaut, Ishani Nath explores how “Indian Matchmaking” is more than just a “dating show” as it is “introducing and shaping how a global audience understands the matchmaking industry.” In fashioning itself as a reality show intimately following the lives of an Indian host and her Indian clients, it offers what viewers may assume is an authentic representation of the Indian experience in the arranged marriage landscape.
Unfortunately, both seasons disappoint. The second season shows no growth from the first and continues following the same apparently stubborn, upper middle-class clientele. Moreover, while carefully avoiding the controversial blunders of colorism from its first season, season two of “Indian Matchmaking” still resorts to dangerous stereotypes — one of the largest being sexism. As Nath aptly captures, the show begins to read as more of an “arranged marriage PR rather than a series based on reality.” The public relations scheme of the show bolsters single-sided narratives that subtly construct regressive ideas on arranged marriages wherein the Indian woman invariably gets left on the outside when not conforming to expected gender roles.
The show’s double standard is apparent in the season’s differential treatment of returning female and male clients from season one — Aparna Shewakramani, Nadia Jagessar, Shekar Jayaraman and Pradhyuman Maloo.
“The public relations scheme of the show bolsters single-sided narratives that subtly construct regressive ideas on arranged marriages wherein the Indian woman invariably gets left on the outside when not conforming to expected gender roles.”
Aparna Shewakramani, a Houston-based lawyer in her mid thirties and a client of Taparia’s, garnered significant negative attention in her first season. Taparia sets her up as a character with impossible dating criteria and an intolerable personality, resulting in failed talking stages that never move any further.
After the first season, Shewakramani received immense online hate and death threats. As a response to her inaccurate portrayal on the series and its consequential cyberbullying, she wrote a book titled “She’s Unlikeable: And Other Lies that Bring Women Down.” Shewakramani discusses not just her challenging experience with Taparia but the role of “Indian Matchmaking” in presenting her in a one-dimensional light. In an interview with The Indian Express, she reminded audiences that reality shows are still fictionalized versions of reality: “It is my hope that people move forward in consuming media more responsibly. We should, of course, enjoy it for entertainment purposes but we should by no means take it as absolute truth.”
“Indian Matchmaking” negatively portrays confident, self-sufficient women as “unlikeable,” thereby concentrating only on these aspects of Shewakramani’s character. Season two shows how this problem is not only encouraged by Sima Taparia and her often outdated modes of thought, but also by the creators of the show. In season two, Shewakramani is no longer Taparia’s client but works as her own matchmaker. However, the construction of Shewakramani, while including more of her personal successes and journey as an individual, does not completely abandon its assertion of her unlikeability. Episode one of season two — “I’ve Dated Lots of Chicks” — opens to a changed Shewakramani. She reiterates the life formula she had created for herself, the essence of her season one quest — getting married, having children, maintaining her professional life and moving into a “McMansion.” She then asserts, “I’m done with the life I thought I wanted.”
Situated in her New York City apartment, Shewakramani seems positioned for better things in her life and for the show. However, “Indian Matchmaking” does not follow through on portraying this stability. Instead, from this moment on, season two fails to sufficiently chart Shewakramani’s relationships, with similar unsuccessful dates to season one and a sudden disappearance midseason. As contributor Meha Razdan wrote for Buzzfeed News, “There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with Aparna’s storyline, per se, but without the tether of Sima, the viewer is left scratching their head wondering what this has to do with the matchmaking aspect.”
“While sexism is a common reality in matchmaking, the show’s orientation does not tackle the dangers of this discrimination, but rather reinforces that any woman thinking outside of convention is set to lose when it comes to love, and is deserving of blame.”
It seems that Shewakramani is brought on the show merely to tap into the fame surrounding her book release. This becomes increasingly believable as none of Shewakramani’s fellow female stars on Indian Matchmaking are seen in a progressive light and are still portrayed as unlikeable when they break certain gender norms.
Nadia Jagessar is one such person. Throughout season two, Jagessar is made out to be unlikeable for supposedly breaking the heart of Shekar Jayaraman — another season one client — in pursuit of a younger man named Vishal Kalyanasundaram.
At the end of season one, there seems to be a possibility, though not fully defined, of a romance between Jagesar and Jayaraman, one of Taparia’s other clients. When we return for season two, both Jagessar and Jayaraman are seemingly single and have the will-they or will-they-not date question lingering over their interactions. Jayaraman visitsJagessar’s house in episode one, cordially and warmly interacting with her whole family. He is immediately set up as a likable young suitor for Jagessar. However, the situation between the two is still in a gray area, with uncertainties looming from both sides. When Jagessar hosts a party for Taparia’s clients later in the same episode, she hits it off with the twenty-something Kalyanasundaram. Jagessar is immediately villainized for her behavior toward Jayaraman and belittled for her romance with a younger man.
In an article for Indian Express, Nadia Jagessar explains how she never dated Jayaraman in the two and a half years she knew him and was hurt by how the show edited her story arc in the second season. The article discusses how Jagessar “noted that it is ‘unfortunate’ that the show edited it to look like she had broken Shekar's heart.” In looking for her own love interest and pursuing someone conventionally inappropriate, Jagessar is made unlikeable. She quickly disappears from the show after her fling with Kalyanasundaram comes to an end. The show erases Jagessar’s reality to replace it with a fictionalized account that reinforces the show’s idea that progressive women cannot function in the arranged marriage arena. Taparia’s failure as a matchmaker slowly nods in this direction as well, blaming women for the shortcomings of matchmaking in the modern age, rather than lauding them for breaking past convention, if anything. Jagessar and Shewakramani are molded into selfish creatures demanding the hate of audiences.
The returning men of the show are inversely coddled. Jayaraman is depicted as the heartbroken man begging audiences for their sympathy. He still very much receives the show’s favor. Similarly, returning client Pradhyuman Maloo is glorified as a success story in the season. Like Shewakramani, he no longer is a client of Taparia’s and has found a wife on his own, at a party. Maloo was as stubborn — if not more — than his female counterparts during the first season. And yet, we are asked to forget all about it in the second season. He is instead given the Indian wedding everyone has been waiting for and does not disappear midseason without a grand send-off. He is even invited back to the show’s coveted married couple confessional couch with his wife for tips on his success story.
Reality shows, while based on the lives of real people, cannot be conflated with reality. The genre still alters and even fictionalizes narratives to suit the requirements of their shows. “Indian Matchmaking” is a clear example of this, altering the lives of its participants to suit certain narrative tropes that insist on an stereotypical arranged marriage system that cannot accept self-sufficient women. While sexism is a common reality in matchmaking, the show’s orientation does not tackle the dangers of this discrimination, but rather reinforces that any woman thinking outside of convention is set to lose when it comes to love, and is deserving of blame.
The movie “Eat Pray Love” directed by Ryan Murphy situates the viewer in India through quick shots of crowded streets. Bikes and rickshaws furiously honk at each other over the evening traffic. Children run across streets with sheer abandon, and vendors prepare food for the gathering crowds. M.I.A.’s “Boyz” plays in the back as Julia Roberts enters the scene in a cab, eyes reeling at the reckless driving and noise around her. As the cab slows down, she offers her hand to the bunch of children gathered by her window, guarded. A sense of exasperation permeates both her and the audience at the sight of this chaotic surrounding. India, as seen here, is an impenetrable and uncivilized mess.
Rihanna is a cultural icon of the 21st century. Her list of successes is practically limitless, garnering her credentials beyond the titles of singer and actress through her pursuits as a businesswoman, philanthropist and humanitarian. Rihanna has been named by The New York Times as one of the 100 most influential people in the world twice, in 2012 and 2018. In particular, her Savage X Fenty lingerie line, as well as Fenty Beauty, her cosmetics brand, have received notable recognition.
As the spring semester came around this January, colleges across the U.S. opened their campuses to students. These institutions each laid out their own plans to combat the coronavirus pandemic’s spread and usher in their students safely. However, many colleges have seen uncontrollable case numbers in just the first few weeks, reflecting their inadequate COVID-19 measures. In light of this, Mount Holyoke’s gradual reopening policies and COVID-19 measures have proven to be comparatively far more successful.
In January 2021, a high court in India made a startling sexual assault ruling, declaring that groping without skin-to-skin contact does not constitute sexual assault. The case has garnered outrage across the country, drawing attention to the unresolved problem of sexual abuse and rape against women and minors. Instituting a ruling like this undermines the progress that activists have made regarding children’s and women’s right to safety in India and bolsters an already rampant culture of sexual crimes within the nation.
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Staff Writer
By May 5, 2019, I finalized my decision to enroll at Mount Holyoke College, a gender-diverse liberal arts college in western Massachusetts. When my friends and relatives asked me where I would be starting school, a lengthy response would inevitably find its way out of my mouth. There was a need to clarify where and what this little-known college was. Eyebrows raised, people questioned why I chose what they might call an “all women’s” or “girl’s” college. Why an unheard-of liberal arts college? The raised eyebrows were common and still are. This negligence toward historically women's colleges by both the general public and college rankings reflects the increasing need for more of such institutions.
I've seen this negligence reflected in people I know, both in the United States and back home in India. When I stayed with my cousin in Boston during the break before arriving at college, neither he nor his friends had ever heard of Mount Holyoke. They didn't know of the Seven Sisters either. I've often been questioned on the ranking of my college. The college rankings on different websites such as U.S. News reflect what appears to be only partial knowledge of these colleges. The lower ranking of Mount Holyoke amid the broader college culture has often left me confused. Currently, Mount Holyoke is ranked 34 in the list of national liberal arts colleges created by U.S. News.
This has often led me to think that the rankings of HWCs in the broader college culture, including public perception, were determined by the fact that they were aimed at offering women and, later, transgender and nonbinary folks, an education. Did the fact that no cisgender men were walking around their campuses make them somehow less appealing to the masses? If this is the case, it turns away from the realities of inequality that still exist for women, trans and nonbinary individuals and the importance of empowering them and providing them with an education in a safe space.
The Seven Sister colleges, for example, were established in the 19th century to provide women with educational opportunities equal to the then male-only Ivy Leagues. These colleges have continued to offer their students a sense of empowerment, drive and community outside the pressures of a hierarchy determined by cisgender men. For instance, Bryn Mawr College President Kimberly Cassidy, in a U.S. News article on gender gaps in STEM, charts how gender stereotypes have led to an “unequal distribution of mentors and lab opportunities.” HWCs can offer their students opportunities outside these disparities and develop a “built-in sense of belonging, with plentiful female role models and female-majority workgroups,” Cassidy said.
Even today, there is still a very prevalent hierarchy that seats the cisgender man at the top. There remains a need for safe spaces of education and empowerment for people of different gender identities.
Isshita Fauzdar ’23 emphasized that there is still a strong need for HWCs today and their exclusion from rankings is unfair given their rich histories. “If the earliest women's colleges weren't founded in the mid-19th century, then we might not even have had the opportunity to attend any higher academic institution[s] today,” Fauzdar said. With this in mind, she encouraged more people to attend and recognize institutions that have “a solitary purpose of empowering students with a rigorous education that might not have been accessible to all otherwise.”
The incessant questioning of or indifference to the need for HWCs sidelines their intent and the fact that they offer educations as meaningful as the colleges cisgender men attend. When people keep asking, “Why a women’s college?” — if they are even aware of their existence — it proves that they do not understand the need for such spaces in our society. This reflects the prevalent and embedded hierarchy in our society. No, patriarchy is not gone, and yes, we still need colleges that are affirming and safe spaces. I have chosen to attend Mount Holyoke as a conscious choice, not because I had to settle for it. A gender-diverse women’s college has given me an empowering, quality education filled with rich traditions experienced alongside a bold and driven community. These colleges deserve more recognition and need to increase in number so that we can create a society in which gender inequalities are recognized and combatted.
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Staff Writer
As November comes around annually, I prepare myself for a time of celebration and festivity. In the time of this pandemic, Diwali is a light of hope, an opportunity to get out of the drudgery of online classes and celebrate. However, as I partake in this celebration, there is a lingering thought in the corner of my mind asking me if I am celebrating with awareness. As the holiday season engulfs us, we must rethink the ways in which we celebrate and ensure that we are doing so with a sense of sustainability and responsibility to health and the environment.
Traditionally, Diwali is celebrated by lighting “diyas” or oil lamps. However, since around the 1940s, the rampant usage of fireworks to mark the occasion has made its way into the festival.
While growing up, my grandfather would buy sacks of fireworks, called firecrackers or just "crackers" in India, for all of us to celebrate, and Diwali would be filled with the noise and smoke of firecrackers burning all over the city. However, today, caught amid the climate change crisis, we must pause to reconsider these crackers’ place in Diwali celebrations. Crackers are pollutants, harmful to both our health and the environment, and to purchase them is to bolster an industry of fireworks factories that employ child labor.
Diwali fireworks have led to a 30-40 percent increase in recorded breathing problems. The fireworks’ chemicals contain “a mixture of sulfur-coal compounds, traces of heavy metals, and other toxic chemicals or gases.” All of these lead to breathing problems, and bursting the crackers in such a rampant manner puts many people, especially the elderly and vulnerable, at risk.
Additionally, amid a pandemic, we must realize how bursting crackers demonstrates our privilege and negligence toward those who are more at risk for health issues. Along with harmful smoke, the crackers also produce noise pollution, detrimental to both people and animals. This pollution leads to a sense of anxiety, sleep disturbance and, according to The Indian Express, “asthma, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, allergic rhinitis, lower respiratory tract infections, and lung cancers.”
In light of the pandemic, some state governments in India passed a ban on the usage of crackers for Diwali. However, while the government called for the ban, it was not entirely carried out. According to The Hindu, “bursting of firecrackers could be heard across Delhi and its neighbouring areas on Diwali night even though a ban was imposed on its sale and use in the national capital region in view of rising air pollution and COVID-19 pandemic.” Hindu groups, including many Bharatiya Janata Party members, argued that the bursting of firecrackers was an essential part of the festival and should not be banned.
However, caught in the middle of a pandemic and facing global warming, we must rethink how we can do justice to both festivities as well as environmental consciousness. We must work to celebrate festivals like Diwali with these dangers in mind. Given that fireworks are only a recent addition, perhaps we can return to lighting diyas as the main attraction. We can draw rangolis, make sweets and, in a safe manner, come together with friends and family, preserving the essence of the festival. After all, Diwali is the celebration of good over evil, and we must not forget that even in the excitement of the celebration.
Additionally, while evaluating if the Diwali celebration is staying true to its intent, we must be aware of the horrors of the firecracker industry bolstered on this day. The firecracker industry in India carries a history of child labor. Young children were used for rolling fireworks and stuffing explosives into them because they had tiny hands and fingers that would ensure precision. Working in unsafe conditions, the children’s jobs expose them to harsh chemicals, injuries and lifelong health issues. While there has been a decline in child labor in the industry, we cannot neglect its presence and history. When we burst these crackers in celebration, we are also bolstering these young children’s trauma and suffering. This act of celebration is definitely not in line with the intent to celebrate Diwali and honor the triumph of good over evil.
Right now, we have an opportunity to reevaluate the ways we celebrate Diwali and other festivals, keeping in mind an awareness of the times we are in and the changes that we and the environment are going through. It is an opportunity for us to review some of our practices while staying true to the festivals and their intent.
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Staff Writer
Today, we live in a largely online society with most of our communications nurtured by the blue glares of our smartphone and tablet screens. In this ecosystem, the internet has influenced the way we interact with various forms of activism. A blue profile picture for Sudan, a red #StandwithKashmir Instagram story and a recent surge of black boxes and #BlackLivesMatter posts sum up our solidarities.
We must pause to evaluate how this internet culture often echoes incomplete solidarity and hypocritical actions, and the first target of this scrutiny is celebrities. Many celebrities are performative in their activism, taking up topics as they are “trending” or selectively choosing topics that do not harm their privileged positions. They choose this over actually getting their feet wet and undertaking meaningful actions and dialogues. With the awareness of these public figures’ power and influence, we must call them out when they lack the responsibility to engage in certain discussions.
Indian actress Priyanka Chopra is the embodiment of this selective and privileged activism. In June, Chopra expressed her solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement, posting a “Please, I Can’t Breathe” image on Instagram. However, there is a dark side of her activism, or rather, her lack thereof.
For starters, Chopra has been the brand ambassador of skin lightening creams and products that promote and reinforce colorism and its thriving industry in India. She endorsed Ponds lightening cream in 2008 and Garnier lightening cream in 2012. When influential figures like Chopra endorse such products, it sanctions discrimination and prejudice and is the opposite of the “responsibility to end hate” that she posts about. As Bhawna Jaimini noted in a LiveWire article, “Nothing like earning those big bucks from endorsements and still earning those brownie-woke points.”
Additionally, Chopra, who claims to be concerned about systemic oppression and police brutality, solely talks about occurrences in the U.S. What about incidents taking place in India? The anti-Citizenship Amendment Act student protests at the end of 2019 in India were met with state-sanctioned police brutality. During one such incident at Jawaharlal Nehru University, a masked mob entered and attacked, injured and arrested students. These government-backed atrocities have continued in communal riots leading to injuries, deaths and the arrest of activists with no word from Chopra, who was otherwise preoccupied with galas and events and, according to Jamini, “celebrating the amassing of 50 million followers.”
Additionally, the Black Lives Matter movement also sparked a Dalit Lives Matter movement in India protesting the caste order and its systemic oppression against the Dalit community. Chopra was silent.
Despite being an ambassador of UNICEF and a proclaimed feminist, Chopra’s activism remains narrow. An explanation of her performative action versus her actual activism is that Priyanka Chopra’s Black Lives Matter post is simply a move to establish herself as a part of the West, speaking up on social and political movements here, while neglecting those back home. This idea is supported by the fact that her solidarity for BLM was a mere performative post with no active involvement otherwise.
Another reason for shying away from Indian matters could be Chopra’s allegiance with the Modi government. In her privileged position as Modi’s ally (he was even invited to her wedding), Chopra’s activism in India is absent, and she keeps quiet on the bigotry that his government carries out. While she implicitly endorses his atrocities as acceptable, she simultaneously speaks up about the dangers of bigotry, racism and hate in the West. Chopra’s selective activism comes from a privileged position of securing her Modi friendship while at the same time securing her place as an ally in the West.
Chopra is not the only celebrity guilty of selective and hypocritical activism. Many other celebrities speak out about specific topics, but their actions say otherwise. One such example is Chrissy Teigen and husband John Legend. Both have repeatedly spoken about climate change, urging followers to support the environment. Recently, Teigen and Legend took a private jet to get dinner at an exclusive French restaurant 500 miles from their residence, a sign of their elitist actions not bearing congruence with their earlier tweets.
Other celebrities, including Leonardo DiCaprio, have been called out for using private jets and yachts while campaigning for the environment. The Kardashians are notorious for their baseless solidarities. Kylie Jenner took to Instagram in January to talk about donating to wildlife rescues and helping animals, but she was also caught wearing animal fur coats this year. Where is the consistency?
Celebrities, seemingly offering solidarity, need to be rechecked for underlying bigotry and the incomplete activism they endorse and profit from. No matter how much we love a celebrity, we must bring to light their hypocrisies and injustices to meaningful causes and not let their icon status obscure their discrimination and tone-deaf, selective solidarities.
Graphic by Anjali Rao-Herel ‘22
By Jahnavi Pradeep ’23
Earlier in August, on a breezy Friday evening, I got on a call with my college friend from Bombay, discussing Daal from the Dining Commons, Target hauls, Creighton Hall luxuries and our recently booked flight tickets back to the world of Mount Holyoke. After months of speculation, the international flights from India had finally opened up, and we had hurriedly talked to travel agents and finalized our not-so-cheap flight arrangements. To our great disappointment, just a couple hours later, College President Sonya Stephens’ email flashed on students’ screens across the globe, disinviting us from living on campus and instead moving to a completely remote system.
While Mount Holyoke’s decision to move to an online forum prioritizes health and safety in the face of the growing pandemic, I found that this decision had added more challenges for international students than domestic students.
The last-minute decision to close campus left many of us with a mess in regard to flight bookings and other expenses. I remember calling my friends back later that evening, asking them what they would do with their recently booked flight tickets. A cancellation would mean a 10 percent fee, which is expensive for an international flight. The 48-hour deadline to apply for extenuating circumstances did not give me time to consult with my parents on taking another new decision, and so we, like numerous other international students, resorted to doing my semester from home. Soon, my friends and I began frantically calling travel agents (for the umpteenth time), storage units and domestic relatives who had sent out our boxes to stall everything. While perhaps many domestic students have gone through flight cancellations and shipping reversals as well, the situation has been a lot more confusing and costly for international students, the flight expenses being a clear cut example of this.
The online module has also not been an easy feat for international students. The classes are structured mainly around Eastern Standard Time. This leaves several of us, international students more so, having to take classes at extremely odd hours. For example, I dread having to stay up for my classes from 12 a.m. to 6 a.m. during Module 2. This module, my professors have personally been extremely understanding of time differences, but there is nothing that can make them eradicate synchronous classes altogether and stay true to the College’s academic commitment.
Sohini Bhatia ’23, also residing internationally for this semester, echoed this concern as well. While acknowledging the sincere efforts of the professors, Bhatia expressed how “trying to attend synchronous classes and getting all your quizzes and assignments on time” can be harder for the international student to do, especially while at the same time “juggling social lives and family time.”
This is the same for clubs and organizations as well, having to attend meetings in the middle of the night. Siona Ahuja ’24 discussed these difficulties, stating, “My only fear is that of missing out on socializing with fellow first-years because they hold their plans when I am asleep.”
Similarly, living in a modestly sized house myself, the sound of my classes carries through the house, disturbing the sleep of the rest of my family. Staying up so late inevitably leads me to sleep into the mornings and not be able to pitch in to help with the morning chores.
Rameen Farrukh ’24, currently in Pakistan, has also experienced additional challenges for the household. “The power cuts and unstable internet has been one issue I recently faced in the storm season because every time there was a bad thunderstorm outside, I would have a class. This had given me so much stress mentally and financially because I had to arrange a heavier generator that could cope with a 12-hour power failure,” Farrukh said.
There is also the added woe of not being able to take up campus jobs. On July 31, the student employment office sent out an email in which they noted that “due to issues related to international employment law, students who are living abroad, unfortunately, may not work for the College. This is true regardless of citizenship or previous employment with MHC.” They listed how, since employment laws vary widely from country to country, Mount Holyoke would not be able to comply with all these different regulations to “lawfully employ students living in various international locations,” according to the email.
This revision to the employment plans prevents all of us residing abroad from taking up any offered campus jobs. For many international students, making this money is a big deal. What happens to those that rely on this income for work-study? Has all of this only become a perk to those residing domestically within the United States?
Additionally, I watched international students from other American colleges take up college jobs and work in research labs, as teaching assistants and in writing centers. If other colleges are not necessarily following this procedure, why must Mount Holyoke?
I acknowledge that Mount Holyoke is striving to best support all of its students, including the international population that it boasts of. However, I still find there is an inevitable and additional burden on international students’ shoulders compared to domestic students on the online platform. We are compromised in the face of classes, time zones, campus jobs and other expenses.
