Talking to White People About Curry

Two things. One, this is a rant, its prone to be a bit snarky and sarcastic and boy am I going to over-exaggerate. And two, I get it, seriously I do. Even as someone who did not grow up eating curry, I can still appreciate the flavour and how the smell of a curry is probably one of the most comforting and enticing aromas in the world. So, curry is phenomenal, no arguments there. It’s not curry that I have a problem with, it’s not even talking about curry that I have problem with. What irks me is the unimaginative, lazy assumption that a brown skinned person such as myself is a chilli loving, curry munching, cutlery adverse Indian (for record, I am, happily so). It’s not so much that I am not those things, I am those things. But that’s not all I am, and the fact that that needs to be stated says something about how little respect is present during these exchanges. Now, I’m not saying don’t judge me, I’m not saying that you should short wire the thing in your brain that sees me and connects the dots to Bollywood movies, curry and my propensity to ask for a discount. No, go ahead do all of that, but please, for goodness sake, can you just keep it to yourself?

Most days, if we’re talking about curry, I’ll offer to give you a fool proof recipe, and if I like you enough, I’ll even share my spices. But what really gets my goat is how so very, very often, someone I’ve known for all of five seconds starts talking to me about curry. Whether it’s about a new Indian restaurant that opened in some obscure location that I’ve never been too (sorry my curry radar must have malfunctioned on that one) or about how they have a curry recipe book from Durban (with recipes from white people in the book-gasp). And of course, I am the “heat police” so these people are also often the ones who tell me how they love a “hot” curry but at how their son/daughter/neighbour’s cat can’t so much as look at a pepper without their eyes watering. Man, it frustrates me. It frustrates me that when these human-like creatures see me, they’re too lazy to do anything other than shove a stereotype at me and expect my gratitude. What am I supposed to say? Thank you, Baas, for even taking notice of me and talking about something my little Indian mind can understand- curry. I would be lost without your kind words.

Why does it piss me off so much? Maybe it’s because you don’t see me when you say those things. Maybe it’s because instead of being a fully formed person with all of the complexities beneath your white skin, to you, I’m just a cardboard cut-out, a one-dimensional creation capable of constructing delicious curries or dancing around in colourful outfits, but not much else. And maybe, just maybe, that version of me serves you far better than the real version, the real version that is driven and capable in a way that scares you because the world is no longer your playground. I won’t pretend that I fully understand what the apartheid and the years prior of colonial rule did for a white person’s psyche in our country. And I won’t pretend that I understand how the shifting power dynamics in our mythical rainbow nation has tampered with those deeply lodged beliefs. But I do know a fight for relevance when I see it, and I do know that it’s easier to find ways to propagate your own myths than it is to see to the truth sometimes. What frustrates me about this sort of judgement and the ill formed belief that you are entitled to spew your rubbish at me is that it is degrading and disrespectful. Your arrogant, small mind looks for validation of the norms that your ignorance has created, and you smirk and reward yourself every time you’re able to reaffirm your stupidity. You presume that all people who look like me must certainly fit a box. Why bother to see anything different, we are not such complex creatures, right? You probably have these boxes for a lot of groupings of people, even those that look like you. Except, I suspect that for those who fit the box wherein you find yourself, you’re far more generous in terms of acknowledging higher order intelligence.

Yeah sure, you don’t know any better, of course there is that. Of course, there’s no intended malice, of course you’re a “nice person” and it’s not as if you called me a “Coolie” or anything. Of course, your belief in your superiority is so deeply entrenched that conjuring it is as easy as breathing for you. Of course, it is up to me to be open minded and to show you the error of your ways even when you will not see it. But can I just, if only for today, be sick of this? Can I just, if only for today, be an angry brown woman who is frustrated by the split second judgements and by the stupid comments? Can I just, only for today, not talk to White people about curry?