Staring: A New Perspective
Dear Villagers of Kodagahalli,
Our recent visit was short (only 1 night), due to the looming deadline for a set of 100 cloth bags for the newly opening GoodChain grocery store in Bangalore. I can’t say I have fully grasped the mechanics of the workspace from just one day’s observation, but the other interns have filled me in on the scheme of things, and I have faith that my visits to Kodagahalli will be a rewarding and enjoyable experience.
If there’s one thing you’ve taught me so far, my friends, it’s the fact that staring is completely acceptable- I would even go as far as to encourage staring at things, people, or events, that we don’t ordinarily encounter. Walking into Kodagahalli, more so than when we stroll anywhere else in Bangalore, our presence solicits blatant staring- a few dozen pairs of eyes following us as we loudly greet everyone we pass, and share goofy smiles with the children forming crowds around us.
I grew up in a pretty ethnically diverse community, but with the East Coast mentality of “honey, don’t stare- it’s rude!” I’m a New Englander, and while we welcome people of all backgrounds, we also value our privacy and personal space (“personal bubble,” if you will) such that we hurriedly rush from place to place with our heads down, seldom acknowledging our peers on the T (i.e. the Boston subway system) or even our neighbors shuffling down the sidewalk in fluffy bathrobes and slippers to get the morning paper; when that awkward moment occurs in which we catch a stranger looking at us, both parties quickly look away and feign disinterest. We try not to engage with people we’re too unfamiliar with.
I’ve realized that the unashamed attention (in the form of staring and lively gestures) that we receive from you, dear villagers, is not rude. You are simply openly acknowledging that we are different, and that our differences (whether outward or hidden) are interesting to you. You stare because you are curious about us- we should feel flattered, not awkward, by your attention.
In America, we sometimes take diversity for granted. We are so exposed to other cultures through people, foods, holidays, etc, that we have become somewhat numb to differences. Diversity, rather than being an openly celebrated aspect of our lives, has become a touchy subject. It is extremely difficult to be “politically correct” and walk the line between acknowledgement of diversity and making offence. And so, we look away when we catch a stranger’s eye, and we pretend not to notice the differences between ourselves and those who are strange to us.
With that in mind, I engaged in a game of “staring-chicken” as I made my way through the village on the second morning of our stay. Chicken, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a game in which two sides engage in provoking each other and maintaining the appearance of strength and the refusal to back-down. Usually, one side will eventually retreat for fear of conflicting with the other side in a greater catastrophe than planned. Thus, as I made my way down the dirt path to the little pastry shop (where the other interns introduced to me the joy of a mini-cup of coffee- light with milk and sugar), I looked up into your eyes, and tried to hold your gaze, as if to convey, “Hey. I find you interesting too!”
Unfortunately I haven’t reached the level of comfort in staring as you have…I always seem to lose “staring-chicken.” But I have to say- I’m starting to appreciate the benefits that staring at everyone and everything has; we let details slip by when we covet our personal bubbles over our curiosity.
With eyes wide-open,
Lily
