From Dharavi to the digital world: racism without borders

Photo of slum in Dharavi by Kristian Bertel © Licence: Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International

Aaron Mehta unpacks how internet culture fuels racism that South Asians can’t ignore

The image above, of a slum in Dharavi, Mumbai, is not the story of every South Asian. Yet, the exploitation of those living in the worst conditions reduces South Asians worldwide to caricatures for ridicule.

As a young South Asian person living in the UK, I have learned to brace myself before opening the comments on any social media post featuring or about a South Asian.

After years of being reduced to blatant stereotypes and always the butt of jokes in kids’ cartoons and teen movies, we continue to face negative attitudes. These prejudices have now made their way into comment sections across the internet.

This issue has been growing for years, but it’s alarming how common it has become. In my experience, I see this casual racism online every day. Exploitative ‘content creators’ wouldn’t dare to have any morals. Instead, they shove a phone in the face of someone living in extreme poverty and profit comfortably from it.

I could go into specifics, such as how accents are mocked, for example saying “Why did you redeem it” while changing Ws to Vs, or references to body odour, curry, scammers and cows. Many more ignorant remarks seem harmless without proper context.

The reality is that some people must think this racism is acceptable due to its seemingly light-hearted tone. Saying these things aloud doesn’t cause the same shock as a racial slur. However, cheap references and copy-pasted comments from viral videos ultimately do not justify their racist intent.

It’s a hammering attempt to dehumanise, make a mockery of and eventually exclude South Asian people from being accepted unless they reject and participate in the mockery of their own culture.

Deceptively harmless comments risk making self-loathing inevitable for young South Asians in UK

It seems that it will be impossible for the next generation of South Asians in the UK to exist without some degree of self-loathing, a dramatic, harrowing consequence of these deceptively harmless comments.

I grew up with both the regret and privilege of having parents that didn’t enforce South Asian tradition on me. My mother was born in London and tells stories of not having money for vegetarian packed lunches. Her mother, my Nanima, sacrificed her own traditions so my mother could assimilate, eating the same liver and onions as her classmates in the primary school lunch hall.

My parents wanted to give me the privileges and choices that they didn’t have. I have a common name, a British accent, and did not follow any strict dietary requirements. Although, I regret never learning my mother tongue, maybe, in the environments I was in, it benefited me.

I could participate more easily in British culture and everyday life, enjoying things like a Sunday roast or excelling in English classes at school. This doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of my own culture but I do feel a disconnect from a community that regularly participates in this ignorance.

I grew up with my grandparents reading me religious fables and I feel a deep appreciation for their fantastical worlds, striking mythological beings, and tales of love, dedication and justice. I know how to make many of my own cultural foods and which customs to follow when visiting my religious relatives.

Racist rhetoric focuses on us looking, smelling, thinking and acting differently, and being seen as a threat

From the very beginning of any racist rhetoric, my story or my mother’s or grandmother’s doesn’t matter in the slightest. Nor does racism consider the street food vendors or those in the slums deep in the South Asian subcontinent, living in unimaginable poverty, where any dreams of progress feel utterly impossible.

Racism cares that we look different, we smell different, think different, act different, and sees us as a threat to this country. To prejudiced people, the famine, poverty and outdated caste systems in South Asia could not possibly be the fault of the British empire. Instead they believe this hierarchy is simply in the animalistic nature of South Asian culture.

My Nanima’s attempts to help her daughters could not stop my mother’s younger sister from being bullied and beaten as a child for being brown. My own mother’s attempts to protect me did not prevent my own racist experiences in person, though certainly less intense, and more than ever online.

On social media, where we seek comfort, South Asian people often encounter persistent abuse. While fewer face direct physical threats today, online content is solidifying racist rhetoric as a pervasive aspect of South Asian reality, not only in the UK but also across so-called developed nations like Canada, Australia and the US. Alarming statistics reported by Stop AAPI Hate indicate that 43% of South Asian people experienced an act of hate in 2023.

Raising awareness is the first step. We must confront this abuse and challenge racist rhetoric wherever it appears.

You can call Stop Hate UK, a confidential 24-hour helpline for support with hate crimes and bullying.