Author Vincent Lloyd in his article Human Dignity is Black Dignity refers to American social reformer and abolitionist Frederick Douglass and his quarrels with his master Covey.
"After the fight, Covey will still rule over him," Lloyd writes.
Lloyd argues black dignity is an action. The action is a struggle against domination. It is the same for Dalits.
Thus, resisting the oppressors, then relapsing as if in a bid to catch one's breath, and then again taking up arms against oppression becomes the binary living condition for the Dalits.
For the Dalits and the oppressed, discrimination and exclusion exists even before they were born.
Researcher BRC, in her article on Navigating Through Healthcare As a Dalit Non-Binary Person, writes, "For the oppressed, isolation is not a choice. It's an inevitability. We are unable to navigate this society without constantly being preached about "Dalit merit" and "Reservation." The upper castes flaunt their caste surname and on the same hand turn around and say that caste is not based on birth but on work. We feel like we live in a country that has no space for us. Our people, most often, have to hide their identity for fear of discrimination. So grappling with the social boycott, micro-aggression, and loneliness becomes a major part of our lives."
The impact of oppression that society forces a Dalit to undergo can be traced back to the person's ancestors. Thus, one whole life becomes a struggle to break free of the shackles that gag their psyche.
Suicides of the marginalised as a subject of study gains relevance against the backdrop of the data presented by the Union Education Minister in Parliament. The data reveals that out of the 122 students who took their life between 2014 to 2021 in the premier institutions including IITs and IIMs, 58 per cent belong to OBC, SC, ST, and minority communities.
Talking about the kind of alienation a student faces at premier educational institutions, research scholar Arunesh says, "If a Dalit student goes to IIT and tries to talk about anti-caste leaders such as Ambedkar or Periyar; or discusses affirmative action with students belonging to oppressor castes, they will ostracize the dalit student. Moreover, students who consume Meat will be subjected to infrastructural discrimination. The question of identity, alienation, and segregation starts here, from a seemingly harmless segregation of students based on food 'choice."
Aarthy, a psychology graduate based out of Chennai, said, “I studied in a savarna school where some of the students from marginalized communities did score fewer marks in the tests. Consequently, we were manipulated into believing that we lack the talent and skills which the upper caste students possess. We believed our condition as narrated by the upper-caste students to be true. We believed we can never outperform them in studies. But only after we got into colleges and with experience of several years that we understood that what we were made to believe was not true."
There is no dearth of reports about oppressed people quitting their jobs or resorting to the extreme measure of taking their life unable to cope with the way they were treated by society and the system.
Mental health problems of oppressed people mainly stem from the kind of discrimination they undergo at educational institutions, workplaces, and society. The social, political, and economical effects of caste and gender discrimination. With the help of the mainstream mental health narrative, we have collectively gotten to the point where the phrase 'get help' looks familiar, moralistic, intellectual, and affectionate.
BRC writes, "Eventually, I gave up on therapy. I considered all the discrimination my ancestors and I had gone through a closed chapter. I navigated college and work experiencing debilitating social anxiety, largely without ever talking about it. And when I finally started to apply to colleges again, it came back. All the pain and discrimination came back. And when I looked, I had no one to share it with. No support groups or communities."
The isolation and the anxiety BRC writes about resonate with so many who come from oppressed castes, genders and backgrounds.
"I got pro bono therapy from students who were doing their master's degree. But since I come from a psychology background, I knew where they would make mistakes because even experienced therapists make mistakes," says Aarthy talking about how she sought help.
BRC further writes, "How can I as a Dalit person ever feel comfortable talking about caste to a therapist who repeats every word except caste? How can I feel comfortable discussing my Non-Binary personhood, and problems with school or work when every one of these is marked with my Dalit identity? Or when an upper caste doctor can physically touch me inappropriately and be sure that his job won’t be at risk because he knows the management? I wish I could talk about these issues in isolation. But I can’t. Even LGBTQIA+ spaces in India are led by upper castes who are every bit as casteist as their cis and heterosexual counterparts."
"'Among all the other problems, do you think mental health issues are important' is one question that you hear when you do dare talk about it. Who can afford to have mental health crises in India and who can afford to talk about it? And who decides who can afford to have it? What decides who can afford to have it? And who can afford to seek help for it? Is mental health free in India? Is it accessible?" are some questions Arunesh puts forward discussing the mental health problems of people from marginalized backgrounds.
Nazriya, the Coimbatore-based transwoman cop, who was forced to quit her job after twice trying to take her life following discrimination she suffered at the hands of her higher-ups, says she was advised by her parents that she got to endure the discrimination and carry on working. "We protest, but we also endure."
To be asked to "endure" and then to explode into "I can't do this anymore" is an inevitable routine. But, it happens to an exhaustive degree for people who come from marginalized sections.
"I can never recover from my childhood loneliness," Rohith Vemula writes. How tiring it must have been to carry this fatigue around? This, with heaps of other burdens.
People from marginalized backgrounds also carry the burden of mobilizing the community.
"Say I am first generation graduate and I join IIT - the minute I join I would only imagine the hardships my parents go through and I would ask myself to undergo whatever difficulties to finish the course," says Arunesh.
He adds, "They say that a community only develops or becomes better when people from the marginalised community suffer. This is exactly why I get angry when I watch Pariyerum Perumal. Someone is attacking me and I am being asked to tolerate and study? In a constructive context, it makes sense. But the scar that appears on that individual, why are we refusing to talk about that?"
Aruna, a Subject Matter Expert based out of Pondicherry, says her parents did pressurize her to study but not for their sake. "They wanted me to study to become someone, to be someone in society. They always say that they don't want anything from me, and they just want me to look after myself," she says.
Nazriya's case is under investigation. She takes part in the enquiry but has no hope of rejoining.
"I will beg in the streets," she said when I asked what she was going to do.
She might have made her choice, but it is not so for everyone.
"Right when you want to quit a toxic workplace, voices of your collective social consciousness question you. It makes you feel that you're betraying your people by choosing an easier way out and not representing them. You'd feel that you're being selfish and not giving back to the community. The dilemma will add more mental pressure, but these voices, internal or external, aren't completely wrong either; considering the fact that Ambedkar and many other social reformers endured so much more for the marginalized, to be in such a respectable position, where our voices are heard and represented" says Arunesh.
It is one thing when individuals like our parents and friends ask us to endure the pain. It is with the assurance that they are going to walk beside us. But it is completely different when institutions do that -- it comes from a place of sheer hatred and discrimination. After all, they can only reflect the state’s negligence towards the oppressed.