Date:19672019
Papers were selected using the 4-stage process suggested in PRISMA: identification, screening, eligibility, and included ( Figure 1 ).
PRISMA flow diagram. 45
Records were identified through database searching (n = 15 106) and from other sources (n = 3), resulting in 15 109 records identified. After removing duplicates, 9721 articles were screened by reading the title and abstract against the inclusion/exclusion criteria. This included papers published between 2000 and 2019, primary research (qual/quant/mixed) secondary data analysis of routine data, focused on health, health access, health inequity, or discrimination against Dalit community, studies focused on south Asia, papers written in English and peer reviewed. At this stage, the majority of records (n = 9668) were excluded on the basis of main interest of paper not related to caste and health discrimination, language (not written in English), demographical location (research outside South-Asia), participants (population other than Dalits), and publications (not research paper). Ten percent of the rejected papers were also blind peer reviewed (EvT, VH, and PR) to ensure quality control.
In the third stage, all remaining 53 records full-text articles were reviewed by the first author against the inclusion/exclusion criteria and double-checked by the rest of the research team (EvT, VH, and PR) to reduce possible researcher bias. At this stage, 9 papers were selected and 44 papers were excluded largely due to study not being primary research, not focused on health or health access, focused on wider aspects of discrimination, not focused on South Asia, and published before 2000.
Data extraction was conducted by first author and reviewed by coauthors to ensure consistency. Any disagreement in the selection was resolved through discussion with other authors.
Nine studies that met inclusion criteria were included. Table 2 shows a summary of the appraised studies. Of the nine selected studies, two were qualitative studies, three quantitative, and four were mixed method. The selected South Asian studies were carried out between 2000 and 2019, mainly in India (n = 7) and Nepal (n = 2). These studies assessed caste-based discrimination in the health care sector.
Summary Table.
Authors, year, and country | Main aims | Method and data collection/analysis | Participants | Results | Stated conclusion | Limitation, critical appraisal | Reviewer’s conclusion |
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
Bhandari and Chan (2016), Nepal | Investigate caste/ethnicity-based inequity in women’s health service utilization, focusing on ANC in Nepal | Secondary cross sectional: Nepal Demographic Health Survey Data 2011, bivariate and multivariate analysis | 4018 mothers aged 15 to 49 years who gave birth past 5 years | 53% mother had ANC visit 4+ (mean 3.63, median 4.0), Hill Dalits and Terai Dalits were only 4%. Only 6% of disadvantages caste/ethnicity belongs to the wealthiest quintile. | Disadvantaged mothers using less ANC independently based on their caste/ethnicity and their household wealth. Advantaged mothers are also disadvantaged of utilizing ANC depending on wealth. | Secondary data, cross-sectional nature, not focus on quality visit. Appraisal: CASP, 2018 (75%, medium). | In-depth study association double discrimination: caste and wealth. |
Kumar (2007), India | Explore the link between SHGs + women’s access to health services | Mixed method: survey, interviews, case studies, and focus group discussions | SHGs women (n = 200), family members, community leaders | 84% SC used unlicensed “private doctors,” paid high charges. No change reported in health, health knowledge, health utilization, spending on food, basic needs compared with OBC. Participations’ health impact was reportedly greater for OBC women than SC. | Caste and class powerful in determining women’s access to health. Dependent on gender relations, income, education, and general standards of living. SHGs fail to overcome structural contexts hence failed to produce equitable health services to marginalized. | Small sample, number of participants other than SHGs women is not made clear. Appraisal: McGill, 2018 (85%, medium). | Women are discriminated on gender, caste, and class, information on double discrimination would be helpful. |
Polit (2005), India | To show how the relative marginality of Dalits affects the well-being of Dalit women | Mixed method: Survey and ethnographic research | Garhwali (state) women central Himalayas of north India | First village: Dalits = poor, literate, high discrimination, and dependency. Second had 2 areas, occasional clashes, moderate dependency, employed, and educated people. Third village: only Dalits, less land, education, and jobs; no discrimination and dependency. | People’s affects well-being more than trans location. Dalit living exclusively Dalit village not consider themselves marginal and well-being = greater. Dalit in village with a high-caste majority will feel more marginal therefore, well-being likely to be less. | Small sample, limited information on methods, and data collection. Appraisal: McGill, 2018 (80%, medium). | No clear identified result. Dalits not marginal in all villages and level of discrimination, access to health and well-being are very different. |
Priya and Sathyamala (2007), India | To explore level of ill health of people from low castes, capacities to respond to adult illness, and support needed | Cross-sectional Mixed methods: survey and interviews | 1171 household Uttar Pradesh (UP) + 900 Tamil Nadu (TN) from SC, interviews = 62 in UP + 52 in TN | Two regions had distinctive health vulnerabilities and support systems. Death rates UP (9.4) and TN (11.4) not as expected. UP 19%/94% had treatment and in TN 97% with long-term illness had some treatment. Sources of treatment were loans. Stigma long-term illness not problem. | People who are poor and lower castes are not equally susceptible to HIV. Social cohesion provided security from impact of poor living and working conditions. Traditional forms of social cohesion are under stress and new forms are inadequate. No social norms protect women. | Methods and selection of participant not clearly explained. Appraisal: McGill, 2018 (85%, medium). | Discrimination on long-term illness is not a major issue; however, fear of stigma led to preventable death. |
Mohindra et al (2006), India | Examine social patterning of women’s self-reported health status: Kerala; 2 hypotheses: (1) low caste and socioeconomic position is associated with worse health status, (2) associations between socioeconomic position and health vary across castes | Secondary cross-sectional data: household survey implemented by the Centre for Development Studies in 2003. Multilevel multinomial logistic regression model. | 4196 non-elderly women of marital age (18-59 years). | Lower caste women, more likely never attended school and are predominantly wage laborers, OBC are slightly more likely to work as wage laborers and forward caste engage in nonwage activities. Odd rations poor perceived health and ADL. | Caste and socioeconomic interrelated; lower caste magnifies health inequity. Being both lower caste and poor can trap people into poor health than either inequality on its own. Implementing interventions that deal with caste and socioeconomic disparities to produce more equitable results than targeting either inequality in isolation. | Cross-sectional study, multilevel multinomial modes in ADL, self-perceived health, regular contact with professionals and attitudes and perceptions. Appraisal: CASP, 2018 (85%, medium). | Information on effects of gender inequality of women’s self-reported health status would be helpful. |
George (2015), India | Examine Dalits in significant positions of rural health + improvement provisioning of health services in tribal India | Secondary analysis: National Sample Survey Office (un)employment (2011-2012) | National survey | Dalits are underrepresented in health professionals. Despite only 24% of rural population, other castes shares 40% in health professional. Shortages subcenters, PHCs, and CHCs. | Underrepresentation of Dalits in rural health care delivery due to untouchability. Indian health system is not equipped to address exclusion, which for urgent policy attention. | Secondary analysis of health work force. Appraisal: CASP, 2018 (80%, medium). | Further study on why in rural India significant jobs are likely to be taken by higher castes. |
Daniel et al (2012), Nepal | Examine health care access to Dalits through experiences of stakeholders throughout health system | Ethnography, participatory approach: KI interviews and FGD, stakeholder, and institutional analysis | 19 FGD and 19 KI totals (n = 209) | Dimension: info access, physical access, financial access, discrimination, and social capital restricting access to health services identified 5 themes: human rights education, health education, advocacy, public inclusion, and dialogue. | Dalits and non-Dalits less access to health services due to lack of resources, absence of monitoring health care, and problems decentralization also main causes of weak Nepali health system. | Less information: district due to language and geography—social relations for field visits. Appraisal: CASP, 2018 (70%, medium). | A table reflecting KI and FGD would be helpful in better understanding of results. |
Verma and Acharya (2018), India | Explore health interaction of Dalit health staffs with non-Dalit care seekers and vice versa | Qualitative—in-depth interviews and 4 FGD, systematic random sampling; thematic analysis | 20 ANMs, 20 ASHAs + 80 care seekers who delivered babies in last 6 months | 5 Themes: Caste, perception and social identity, profession and social identity, maintaining identity, conflict and dilemmas, control and autonomy. Variation across caste of providers and seekers in shaping perception of each other. | Dalit providers lacked skills and health seekers are suspicious of their knowledge. Other staff limited interaction with Dalit care seekers and staff. Women faced gender and caste. Provider and seekers’ caste more weight than profession and need. | Small number, no justification how themes were identified, no written consent. Appraisal: CASP, 2018 (90%, high). | Clarification on how FGDs were conducted and further information on double discrimination would be helpful. |
Rao (2015), India | Discuss key conceptual ideas of agency, voice, and interjectionally in relation to the role of marriage and sexuality in reinforcing caste and gender boundaries | Mixed method: Survey, In-depth interview, FGDs, and KI, narrative | Rural couples: 400 surveys, 40 in-depth interviews | Choice of marriage partner—arranged marriage among OBC, contestations among Dalits degree of control. Facing violence, resisting it, narrative by all women. Jobs are not easy for women, enhances dependence on their men. | More understanding needed on Dalit women’s “acceptance” of violence. Inseparability/lack of agency, of action/patience, as strategies to challenge hierarchy and strengthen their bargaining position. | Narrative research. Appraisal: McGill, 2018 (80%, medium). | More clear results, details related to data analysis, dowry-related violence/marriage. |
Abbreviations: ANC, antenatal care; CASP, Critical Appraisal Skills Program; SHG, self-help groups; SC, scheduled castes; OBC, other backward classes; HIV, human immunodeficiency virus; ADL, activities in daily living; PHC, primary health center; CHC, community health center; FDG, focus group discussion; KI, key informant; ANM, auxiliary nurse-midwife; ASHA, accredited social health activist.
The selected nine studies were critically apprised using the CASP 26 , 27 and McGill 28 checklist, most scored average to moderate quality. From the nine studies, four themes were identified: stigma, poverty, culture and beliefs, and health care.
Stigma here refers to the stigma related to belonging to a particular group, in this case being a Dalit. 29 Almost all studies identified issues related to caste-based stigma, however, four studies 30 - 33 focused on the double discrimination of gender and caste experienced by Dalit women. Caste-based health discrimination was dominant across low-caste groups where basic health indicators for disadvantaged groups (including Dalits) were consistently poor in comparison with those in middle and upper castes. 30 Caste is an important element in shaping individual’s social identity and their well-being. 34 , 35
Dalits reported they were treated differently after people found out their caste status and those people then shared very little information about health services and programmes. 34 Dalits live in an oppressive society, which impacts on every aspect of their life: they are not allowed to enter upper caste house, sit together, or even sit in the presence of upper caste people. People from low caste are also forbidden to offer food or water to upper caste people. 35 Caste is one of the key factors of gender inequality, which is associated with poorer education, nutrition, and health as well as less access to human rights as illustrated by Dalit women being more vulnerable to diseases (malnutrition and anemia) and maternal mortality. 31 The caste system is further gendered in terms of employment, including daily wages and long working days that makes it difficult for women to look after themselves in pregnancy and care for their offspring after birth which, in turn increases their dependence on men. 32
Health outcomes of Dalit women are dependent on two major variables: caste and household wealth. Violence against women resulting from stress associated with unreliable work, low wage, and men being unable to perform their role as “provider.” 32 Two studies identified domestic violence as a common issue with Dalit communities. 32 , 36 Rao 31 identifies that both alcohol consumption and violence are signs of men failing to control their jobs and kids, and then blaming women for their inability to perform as housewife. Dalit women are not allowed to travel alone; their mobility is restricted after marriage and they have little involvement in important household decisions including decision-related top-seeking health care, which can be one reasons why Dalit mothers have low levels of health service usage. 30
Dalit women often suffer harassment from men including their husbands or have abusive relationships. 36 When it comes to sexual intimacy, relationships between upper caste women and low-caste men is strictly prohibited, it is believed that this will pollute upper caste women, whereas sexual relations between upper caste men and low-caste women is not prohibited. 35
Four studies 31 , 35 - 37 identified financial limitations as a major barrier in accessing health care and in health-seeking behaviors. Dalits are generally poor and often not aware of free health services and government-provided health incentive schemes. 37 Dalits are minority communities who have significantly less landholdings, have a lower socioeconomic status, and low literacy. They either work in upper caste people’s fields or in low-income jobs such as basket weaving. 35 In contrast, upper caste groups have a higher health knowledge, better health access as well as better employment, and physical home environment compared with disadvantages caste. 31 Bhandari and Chan 30 found in their research that women from poor households are disadvantaged in terms of utilizing health services and most of Dalits live under the poverty line.
The connection between caste and occupation is complex. Lower caste women, despite nonengagement in education (as most never attended school), are more likely to be engaged in paid employment compared with women from other castes in society, as poorer women need to work to support their household. 33 Education changes social interaction and job opportunities, which negatively affects Dalits as nearly 70% are illiterate, much lower than other lower castes. 32 Conversely, the same study also identified that improvement in level of education among Dalits fueled violence due to refusal to work as submissive agricultural laborers. 31
Kumar 30 stated that private doctors who are usually unlicensed “quacks” exploit women due to their lack of education, charging high fees that results in Dalit women taking loans for treatment, perpetuating their poverty. 30 He further added that without change in caste and class barrier, providing better health resources and improved health results are not possible, especially for women. 31 Illness expenditures are mostly met by family members, loans from wider family, or self-help groups or banks. 36 Two studies 31 , 36 identified that taking out loans to cover health-related cost is common within Dalits communities and this further constrains their financial ability. Polit 35 explained the hopelessness, depressed environment of Dalit society where individuals cannot afford hospital treatment or time to heal shows the extreme level of poverty in Dalits communities. 35
Here any cultural factors or beliefs associated with health equity among Dalit communities are included. In South Asia, classifications based on caste and ethnicity are a main feature of social inequity, which is closely connected with Hindu beliefs. 30 The cultural practices of discrimination affects one’s mental and social well-being. 35 Despite regulations and laws prohibiting caste discrimination, continuous caste-based inequity creates hopeless and helpless situations for Dalits, which contributed to the development of alcoholism and self-harming behaviors. In response to this, some Dalits convert to Christianity to escape the caste system altogether. 36 The caste system also influences marriages, as Dalits are less likely to be able to marriage a partner from a higher caste as marriages are expensive as large dowries are expected by higher caste families. 32
In Polit’s study, people’s health and well-being were strongly connected to several deities, demons, and ghosts that live in their surroundings. Access to cures, ritual healing is restricted for Dalits due to the complex relationship between poverty and discrimination in society. 35 Inequity leads to frustration, anxiety, and insecurities, which resulted in incidents of sprit possession by both male and females to express resulting unexplained death, while seeking exorcism treatment by the ojha. 36
According to two studies, it is believed that caste people are not highly educated and cannot understand health information provided to them. 34 , 37 They are ill-mannered and do not communicate properly due to lack of understanding and knowledge. 34 Due to their limited access to care, Dalits lack knowledge about diseases and/or information about possible cures, which in turn leads to failing to identify symptoms or causes of illness. 37
All nine studies identified that caste affects health issues, four focused 30 - 33 on health issues related to women, one 36 focused on health issues related to human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) and the remainder focused on general health and well-being issues related to Dalits. Kumar’s 31 study asserts that disadvantaged women have a higher chance of severe illness and without any improvement in caste and class barriers, improved health resources and outcomes are almost impossible. 31 In Uttar Pradesh, India, only 19% of people with long-term illness were treated due to poor availability of health services, high fees, and untrained providers. 36 Poor health is connected with lower education level and having less land in low-caste women. 33 Dalit women usually do not visit hospital for treatment due to the travel distance to the hospital and they cannot afford travel expenses or high treatment fees. 35
Kumar indicated that in Bihar, India’s poorest state, local public medical services, often the only services affordable for Dalits, only addressed basic health needs. 31 Despite developments in the Indian health structure including availability of subcenters, public health centers, and community health centers, poorer communities still experience a shortage of health institutions and skilled health workers. 38 Similarly, in Nepal, the health care structure is weak and access is limited for both Dalits and non-Dalits. From skilled health workers to medicine, supplies, and other equipment are in short supply; therefore, patients are referred to higher level of care adding high fees and transportation costs with no guaranteed satisfactory care. Due to literacy issues, Dalits who travelled for better health care need support in filling in complex paperwork and they often struggle to get free access to services that are supposed to be free of charge. 37
As previously mentioned, caste influences employment opportunities and few Dalits have gained health care positions such as general medical practitioners, specialist doctors, trained nurses, technicians, and associated health staff. Their low representation compared with other groups of society promotes a favorable environment for caste inequality. 38 Dalit health workers including auxiliary nurse midwives suffered several difficulties; they were not treating well, patients and colleagues fail to follow their health advice and start taking them for granted due to their lower caste status. 34
This review investigated caste-based inequity in health care utilization in South Asia and included nine selected studies. These research studies were carried out in different cities, counties with different study participants; however, most of them agreed there exists a connection between socioeconomic differences and health disparities. 30 - 38 It was found that low socioeconomic status and holding less land is associated with poor health outcomes. Due to Dalits’ low status in Nepal and India, they have lower access to education and skilled well-paid employment results in lower household incomes. 39 Dalits have lower occupational mobility, less land, poorer education, and worse jobs. Discrimination in occupation, prolonged poverty, and social stigma reduces their opportunity to access labor market in equal terms with non-Dalits; they also fail to get into occupations that did not conform to their low social and political status. 40 Although law and policies have been introduced, socioeconomic hierarchies based on caste persist in South Asia. 41
Dalit women are doubly disadvantaged due to their low-caste status as well as the lower status of women in Hindu society. Lower caste women have increased burdens and risks on their everyday life, including domestic violence and are more likely to experience severe sickness and limited treatment beyond locality. Self-help groups have helped caste women reduce reliance on moneylenders in the event of illness, to cover expensive private health services by providing limited credits. 31 However, it is only available locally and not changing people’s attitudes toward discrimination. Caste/ethnicity contributes to women’s health, for example, higher caste groups comparatively derive better benefits from an antenatal care (ANC) program. Deprived caste/ethnicity group are disadvantages in terms of using ANC services compared with other caste groups. Similarly, mothers from wealthy household utilized ANC services more compared with poor households. However, when comparing caste intersecting household wealth results were slightly different. Disadvantaged women with lowest household wealth significantly used less ANC services compared with higher wealth with same household, similarly advantaged groups with lowest household wealth also significantly used ANC less, whereas mothers from both groups with better wealth used were significantly more likely to use ANC services. This shows the independent contribution of caste and wealth on health and contrary to the common beliefs that disadvantages groups are always disadvantaged. 30
Dalit communities are not only affected by clinical issues but also a variety of sociocultural determinants; therefore, to improve their health and well-being better policies are needed as well as a willingness to tackle sociocultural determinants of health inequality with the government playing a central role. 40 Caste influences are not limited to locational periphery and travels from village to the cities to all markets where “cultural and social relations play out” 42 and affected the process of developments and educations. This review identified that the cultural practices of discrimination create psychological tensions disturbing mental health. Among Dalits mental health issues is often mistaken as being possessed by ghost. This kind of belief limits their access and understanding to better health services. 35 Programs like SGH or ANC may not be enough to overcome caste and health attitudes and such programs may leave disadvantaged people behind in terms of health improvements. Therefore, the global policy agenda and national health system improvements need to focus on improving health inequalities across disadvantaged populations.
Caste and discrimination is largely invisible in discussions of Sustainable Developments Goals (SDGs). 43 The SDGs of no poverty, good health and well-being, quality education, gender equality, and specially goal 10, reduced inequality for all, irrespective of age, sex, disability, race, ethnicity, origin, religion, economic, or other status will not be able to achieve without dealing with caste discrimination. 2 Polit described how well-being in the three groups of Dalit villagers was affected by the circumstances of relative marginality as well as by general socioeconomic indicators. Dalits living together with a high-caste majority compared with Dalits living exclusively in a Dalit village are more marginal and have lower state of well-being. 35 There is close interrelation between poor health, socioeconomic position, and education. Education is an exclusive measure of socioeconomic and socioeconomic position controls health behaviors. 33
Health equity is also influenced by social status and perceptions of care providers and seekers, limiting their interaction with each other. 34 Throughout history, Dalits have been classified as serving class and their only skill required is being able to serve. 44 Non-Dalit health workers hold good understanding and respected in their community, whereas Dalits had limited mobility and nonacceptance within societies. 34
This review presents caste discrimination and health exclusion in South Asia and highlights the promotion of health and well-being of disadvantages castes as well as for the need for further study in other cultural contexts within South Asia. Research on Dalits often reports domestic violence, risk presence in everyday life, poor education, employment, health hierarchies, and inequities caused due to interconnection of caste, class, and gender. Class and caste inequities have become more severe in affective and determining opportunities to access to health care. Inequity in health can be visible on both sides in terms of care provider as well as seekers. This review highlights that due to poverty Dalits’ health seeking behavior is limited as they survive on daily wages and could not afford to lose their daily earnings. Similarly, deprived from accessing better health due to not being able to pay for expensive health services. Poverty also has an impact on education and health knowledge (ie, health literacy).
This review also shows the interrelation of caste and socioeconomic standard as a source of inequality, that is, the combination of being from lower caste and having low socioeconomic position results in poor health rather than just being poor. Dalit women face double discrimination due to their identity as women as well as low caste. Women’s interactions with education, income, and standard of living is limited, which leads them and their health very much dependent on existing gender relations. It will not be possible to boost the health of poor and Dalit women without decentralization and increasing local accessibility of health services. Dalits women’s problems are in addition to general weaknesses in health systems making accessing health care difficult for many people, not only for Dalits.
The evidence in this review indicates to the need for policy innovation and systematic and regular orientation program to address caste exclusion, remove barriers, and to provide support to Dalits development as well as pointing to the need of inequity discussions in global policy debate like Sustainable Development Goals.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests: The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding: The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
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Terry Gross
In her new book, Caste, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Isabel Wilkerson examines the laws and practices that created what she describes as a bipolar, Black and white caste system in the United States. Above, a sign in Jackson, Miss., in May 1961. William Lovelace/Hulton Archive/Getty Images hide caption
In her new book, Caste, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Isabel Wilkerson examines the laws and practices that created what she describes as a bipolar, Black and white caste system in the United States. Above, a sign in Jackson, Miss., in May 1961.
Pulitzer Prize-winning author Isabel Wilkerson says racism is an insufficient term for the systemic oppression of Black people in America. Instead, she prefers to refer to America as having a "caste" system.
Wilkerson describes caste an artificial hierarchy that helps determine standing and respect, assumptions of beauty and competence, and even who gets benefit of the doubt and access to resources.
"Caste focuses in on the infrastructure of our divisions and the rankings, whereas race is the metric that's used to determine one's place in that," she says.
Wilkerson notes that the concept of caste has been around for thousands of years: "[Caste] predates the idea of race, which is ... only 400 or 500 years old, dating back to the transatlantic slave trade."
Caste, she adds, "is the term that is more precise [than race]; it is more comprehensive, and it gets at the underlying infrastructure that often we cannot see, but that is there undergirding much of the inequality and injustices and disparities that we live with in this country."
Great migration: the african-american exodus north.
Wilkerson's 2010 book, The Warmth of Other Suns , focused on the great migration of African Americans from the South to the North during the 20th century. In her new book, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, Wilkerson says that acknowledging America's caste system deepens our understanding of what Black people are up against in the United States.
On hearing a Nigerian-born playwright say that there are no Black people in Africa
It's so shocking to our ears, because, of course, we say that there is an entire subcontinent of people who we would view as Black, but what she was saying was that until you come to the United States, they themselves do not see themselves as Black, they are Igbo ... or they are Yoruba or whatever it is that they are in terms of their ethnicity and identity.
It is only when they enter into a multilayered caste structure ... a hierarchy such as this, do they then have to think of themselves as Black. But back where they are from, they do not have to think of themselves as Black, because Black is not the primary metric of determining one's identity.
On how being "white" is an American innovation
It's an innovation that is only several hundred years old, dating back to the time of the transatlantic slave trade. And that is because before that time, there were humans on the land wherever they happened to be on this planet, and because of the way people were living on the land, they were merely who they were.
They were Irish or they were German or they were Polish or Hungarian, and only [thought of themselves as white] after the transatlantic slave trade, only after people who had been spread out all over the world converged in this one space — the New World — to create a new country, a new culture where all of these people were then interacting and having to figure out how they were going to relate to one another.
That is when you have a caste system that emerges, a caste system that emerges that instantly relegates those who were brought in to be enslaved ... to the very bottom of the caste system, and then elevated those who looked like those who had who created the caste system — meaning those who were British and Western Europeans — at the very top of the caste system. And anyone who entered that caste system had to then navigate and figure out how were they [were] going to manage, how are they [were] going to survive and succeed in this system. And also upon arrival, discovering that they were assigned to a particular category, whether they [wished] to be in it or not.
That means that until arriving here, people who were Irish, people who were Hungarian, people who were Polish would not have identified themselves back in the 19th century as being white, but only in connection to the gradations and ranking that occurred and was created in the United States — that is where the designation of white, the designation of Black and those in between came to have meaning.
On where people of color who are not Black fit into the caste system
There was a tremendous churning at the beginning of the 20th century of people who were arriving in these undetermined or middle groups that did not fit neatly into the bipolar structure that America had created. And at the beginning of the 20th century, there were petitions to the Supreme Court, petitions to the government, for clarity about where they would fit in. And they were often petitioning to be admitted to the dominant caste.
One of the examples, a Japanese immigrant petitioned to qualify for being Caucasian because he said, "My skin is actually whiter than many people that I identified as white in America. I should qualify to be considered Caucasian." And his petition was rejected by the Supreme Court. But these are all examples of the long-standing uncertainties about who fits where when you have a caste system that is bipolar [Black and white], such as the one that was created here.
On the surprising origin of the term "Caucasian"
Wilkerson won the National Book Critics Circle Award for her book about the Great Migration, The Warmth of Other Suns. Joe Henson/Penguin Random House hide caption
Wilkerson won the National Book Critics Circle Award for her book about the Great Migration, The Warmth of Other Suns.
There was a physician, a German physician in the 18th century who had this obsession with skulls, and he collected these skulls from all over the world and his effort to determine who was supreme in humanity. So he had skulls from all over the world, and he identified the most beautiful skulls as having come from the area around the Caucasus Mountains. And as a result of that, because they were, in his view, so beautiful, he decided to identify this skull as Caucasian clearly, and to name the group to which he belonged as Caucasians.
In other words, this was the group that was the most beautiful and perfect of all groups of humanity. This was a group that he presumed himself to belong to — though he was German. And this was the group that he described as European, and thus the word "Caucasian" actually refers to people who come from the Caucasus Mountains.
Now, what's fascinating about that as well is that the very people who were from that region of the world actually are among those who had the most difficult time gaining entry to the United States as citizens as white in the early 20th century, because they did not qualify based upon the preferences for those who were from Northern European ancestry.
On how the U.S. used immigration as a legal way to maintain the caste system
With trump at the border, a look back at u.s. immigration policy.
Curating the population means deciding who gets to be a part of it and where they fit in upon entry, and so there is a tremendous effort at the end of the 19th century, the beginning of the 20th century, with the rise of eugenics and this growing belief in the gradations of humankind that they wanted to keep the population closer to what it had been at the founding of the country. And so there was an effort to restrict who could come into the country if they were not of Western European descent.
Tremendous back and forth, tremendous efforts on the part of eugenicists who then held sway in the popular imagination, tremendous effort to keep out people who we now would view as part of the dominant group. It was a form of curating who could become a part of the United States and where they would fit in, and they used immigration laws to determine who would be able to get access to that dominant group.
On why the Nazis studied American Jim Crow laws
I have to say that my focus was not initially on the Nazis themselves, but rather on how Germany has worked in the decades after the war to reconcile its history. But the deeper that I got, and the more that I looked into this, the deeper I searched, I discovered these connections that I would never have imagined.
It turned out that German eugenicists were in continuing dialogue with American eugenicists. Books by American eugenicists were big sellers in Germany in the years leading up to the Third Reich. And then, of course, the Nazis needed no one to teach them how to hate. But what they did was they sent researchers to study America's Jim Crow laws. They actually sent researchers to America to study how Americans had subjugated African Americans, what would be considered the subordinated caste. And they actually debated and consulted American law as they were devising the Nuremberg Laws and as they were looking at those laws in the United States.
They couldn't understand why, from their perspective, the group that they had identified as the subordinated caste was not recognized in the United States in the same way. So that was the unusual interconnectedness that I never would have imagined.
On the Nazi reaction to America's "one drop rule," which maintained that a person with any amount of Black blood would be considered Black
That idea of the one drop rule, that was viewed as too extreme to [the Nazis]. It was stunning to hear that. ... The Nazis, in trying to create their own caste system, what could be considered a caste system, went to great lengths to really think hard about who should qualify as Aryan, because they felt that they wanted to include as many people as they possibly could, ironically enough, and as they looked at the United States, it did not make sense to them that a single drop of Black blood would make someone Black, that they could not and did not accept. And in defining and creating their own hierarchy, they ended up coming up with a different configuration that actually encompassed more people into the Aryan side than would have been considered than the equivalent would have been in the United States.
Sam Briger and Thea Chaloner produced and edited the audio of this interview. Bridget Bentz and Molly Seavy-Nesper adapted it for the Web.
More than 160 million people in India are considered "Untouchable"—people tainted by their birth into a caste system that deems them impure, less than human.
More than 160 million people in India are considered "Untouchable"—people tainted by their birth into a caste system that deems them impure, less than human.
Human rights abuses against these people, known as Dalits, are legion. A random sampling of headlines in mainstream Indian newspapers tells their story: "Dalit boy beaten to death for plucking flowers"; "Dalit tortured by cops for three days"; "Dalit 'witch' paraded naked in Bihar"; "Dalit killed in lock-up at Kurnool"; "7 Dalits burnt alive in caste clash"; "5 Dalits lynched in Haryana"; "Dalit woman gang-raped, paraded naked"; "Police egged on mob to lynch Dalits".
"Dalits are not allowed to drink from the same wells, attend the same temples, wear shoes in the presence of an upper caste, or drink from the same cups in tea stalls," said Smita Narula, a senior researcher with Human Rights Watch , and author of Broken People: Caste Violence Against India's "Untouchables." Human Rights Watch is a worldwide activist organization based in New York.
India's Untouchables are relegated to the lowest jobs, and live in constant fear of being publicly humiliated, paraded naked, beaten, and raped with impunity by upper-caste Hindus seeking to keep them in their place. Merely walking through an upper-caste neighborhood is a life-threatening offense.
Nearly 90 percent of all the poor Indians and 95 percent of all the illiterate Indians are Dalits, according to figures presented at the International Dalit Conference that took place May 16 to 18 in Vancouver, Canada.
Statistics compiled by India's National Crime Records Bureau indicate that in the year 2000, the last year for which figures are available, 25,455 crimes were committed against Dalits. Every hour two Dalits are assaulted; every day three Dalit women are raped, two Dalits are murdered, and two Dalit homes are torched.
No one believes these numbers are anywhere close to the reality of crimes committed against Dalits. Because the police, village councils, and government officials often support the caste system, which is based on the religious teachings of Hinduism, many crimes go unreported due to fear of reprisal, intimidation by police, inability to pay bribes demanded by police, or simply the knowledge that the police will do nothing.
"There have been large-scale abuses by the police, acting in collusion with upper castes, including raids, beatings in custody, failure to charge offenders or investigate reported crimes," said Narula.
That same year, 68,160 complaints were filed against the police for activities ranging from murder, torture, and collusion in acts of atrocity, to refusal to file a complaint. Sixty two percent of the cases were dismissed as unsubstantiated; 26 police officers were convicted in court.
Despite the fact that untouchability was officially banned when India adopted its constitution in 1950, discrimination against Dalits remained so pervasive that in 1989 the government passed legislation known as The Prevention of Atrocities Act. The act specifically made it illegal to parade people naked through the streets, force them to eat feces, take away their land, foul their water, interfere with their right to vote, and burn down their homes.
Since then, the violence has escalated, largely as a result of the emergence of a grassroots human rights movement among Dalits to demand their rights and resist the dictates of untouchability, said Narula.
Enforcement of laws designed to protect Dalits is lax if not non-existent in many regions of India. The practice of untouchability is strongest in rural areas, where 80 percent of the country's population resides. There, the underlying religious principles of Hinduism dominate.
Hindus believe a person is born into one of four castes based on karma and "purity"—how he or she lived their past lives. Those born as Brahmans are priests and teachers; Kshatriyas are rulers and soldiers; Vaisyas are merchants and traders; and Sudras are laborers. Within the four castes, there are thousands of sub-castes, defined by profession, region, dialect, and other factors.
Untouchables are literally outcastes; a fifth group that is so unworthy it doesn't fall within the caste system.
Although based on religious principles practiced for some 1,500 years, the system persists today for economic as much as religious reasons.
Because they are considered impure from birth, Untouchables perform jobs that are traditionally considered "unclean" or exceedingly menial, and for very little pay. One million Dalits work as manual scavengers, cleaning latrines and sewers by hand and clearing away dead animals. Millions more are agricultural workers trapped in an inescapable cycle of extreme poverty, illiteracy, and oppression.
Although illegal, 40 million people in India, most of them Dalits, are bonded workers, many working to pay off debts that were incurred generations ago, according to a report by Human Rights Watch published in 1999. These people, 15 million of whom are children, work under slave-like conditions hauling rocks, or working in fields or factories for less than U.S. $1 day.
Dalit women are particularly hard hit. They are frequently raped or beaten as a means of reprisal against male relatives who are thought to have committed some act worthy of upper-caste vengeance. They are also subject to arrest if they have male relatives hiding from the authorities.
A case reported in 1999 illustrates the toxic mix of gender and caste.
A 42-year-old Dalit woman was gang-raped and then burnt alive after she, her husband, and two sons had been held in captivity and tortured for eight days. Her crime? Another son had eloped with the daughter of the higher-caste family doing the torturing. The local police knew the Dalit family was being held, but did nothing because of the higher-caste family's local influence.
There is very little recourse available to victims.
A report released by Amnesty International in 2001 found an "extremely high" number of sexual assaults on Dalit women, frequently perpetrated by landlords, upper-caste villagers, and police officers. The study estimates that only about 5 percent of attacks are registered, and that police officers dismissed at least 30 percent of rape complaints as false.
The study also found that the police routinely demand bribes, intimidate witnesses, cover up evidence, and beat up the women's husbands. Little or nothing is done to prevent attacks on rape victims by gangs of upper-caste villagers seeking to prevent a case from being pursued. Sometimes the policemen even join in, the study suggests. Rape victims have also been murdered. Such crimes often go unpunished.
Thousands of pre-teen Dalit girls are forced into prostitution under cover of a religious practice known as devadasis , which means "female servant of god." The girls are dedicated or "married" to a deity or a temple. Once dedicated, they are unable to marry, forced to have sex with upper-caste community members, and eventually sold to an urban brothel.
Within India, grassroots efforts to change are emerging, despite retaliation and intimidation by local officials and upper-caste villagers. In some states, caste conflict has escalated to caste warfare, and militia-like vigilante groups have conducted raids on villages, burning homes, raping, and massacring the people. These raids are sometimes conducted with the tacit approval of the police.
In the province Bihar, local Dalits are retaliating, committing atrocities also. Non-aligned Dalits are frequently caught in the middle, victims of both groups.
"There is a growing grassroots movement of activists, trade unions, and other NGOs that are organizing to democratically and peacefully demand their rights, higher wages, and more equitable land distribution," said Narula. "There has been progress in terms of building a human rights movement within India, and in drawing international attention to the issue."
In August 2002, the UN Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (UN CERD) approved a resolution condemning caste or descent-based discrimination.
"But at the national level, very little is being done to implement or enforce the laws," said Narula.
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Caste discrimination affects an estimated 260 million people
Caste discrimination affects an estimated 260 million people worldwide, the vast majority living in South Asia. It involves massive violations of civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights. Caste systems divide people into unequal and hierarchical social groups. Those at the bottom are considered ‘lesser human beings’, ‘impure’ and ‘polluting’ to other caste groups.
They are known to be ‘untouchable’ and subjected to so-called ‘untouchability practices’ in both public and private spheres. ‘Untouchables’ – known in South Asia as Dalits – are often forcibly assigned the most dirty, menial and hazardous jobs, and many are subjected to forced and bonded labour. Due to exclusion practiced by both state and non-state actors, they have limited access to resources, services and development, keeping most Dalits in severe poverty.
They are often de facto excluded from decision making and meaningful participation in public and civil life. Lack of special legislation banning caste discrimination or lack of implementation of legislation, due to dysfunctional systems of justice and caste-bias, have largely left Dalits without protection. Despite policy development and new legislation in some countries, fundamental challenges still remain in all caste-affected countries.
The progress that has been made is, to a large extent, a consequence of the tireless work of Dalit civil society groups in South Asia. They have also – through IDSN and by other means – managed to place caste discrimination firmly on the international human rights agenda. UN bodies and EU institutions are paying increasing attention to this issue.
The division of a society into castes is a global phenomenon not exclusively practised within any particular religion or belief system. In South Asia, caste discrimination is traditionally rooted in the Hindu caste system, according to which Dalits are considered ‘outcasts’. However, caste systems and the ensuing discrimination have spread into Christian, Buddhist, Muslim and Sikh communities. They are also found in Africa, other parts of Asia, the Middle East, the Pacific and in Diaspora communities.
A central feature of caste discrimination is the so-called “untouchability practices”. It stems from the notion that different caste groups have varying degrees of purity and pollution, with Dalits and other caste-affected groups being so impure that they can pollute other groups.
Paradoxically, sexual abuse and rape against Dalit women is not considered polluting to men from dominant castes.
If Dalits and other caste-affected groups challenge the untouchability practices, they often face violent sanctions and social boycott. Massive violations of human rights occur in relation to untouchability practices and other forms of caste-based discrimination.
The effect of untouchability practices and indeed the sexual abuse of “untouchable” women is that Dalits and other “untouchable” groups are kept powerless, separate and unequal.
Find out how these untouchability practices also constitute human rights violations
IDSN has created an extensive database on caste-based discrimination.
Click here for all documents on untouchability
Untouchability in Rural India by Shah, Mander, Thorat, Deshpande & Baviskar (2006)
Understanding Untouchability – A Comprehensive Study of Practices and Conditions in 1589 Villages by Navsarjan Trust and the Robert F. Kennedy Center for Justice & Human Rights (2010)
Anthropology of Caste (from the International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, 2008)
Click here to view IDSNs YouTube channel with a selection of videos dealing with untouchability practices
Caste discrimination involves massive violations of civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights. Caste-affected communities are denied a life in dignity and equality.
According to a comprehensive UN study on discrimination based on work and descent , a number of human rights violations occur in relation to caste discrimination:
Impunity for the perpetrators of crimes against caste-affected groups and non-implementation of legislation permeates the justice and law enforcement systems. Dalit cases are often not reported, investigated or prosecuted properly. Policemen, lawyers and judges often belong to dominant castes and they are unwilling to investigate, prosecute and hear cases of crimes against Dalits. Very few cases of crimes against Dalits lead to conviction.
The United Nations Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination recommends with specific reference to caste-affected communities that all states “take the necessary steps to ensure equal access to the justice system for all members of descent-based communities as well as ensure the prosecution of persons who commit crimes against members of descent-based communities and the provision of adequate compensation for the victims of such crimes.”
Learn more about our work on international level to adress the human rights violations that stem from caste discrimination
Learn more about how we work with the business sector on corporate social responsibility
See the Human Rights Correspondence School lessons on caste discrmination here
IDSN considers caste (and related discrimination and exclusion) to be a unique phenomenon – though widely spread in different geographical regions and cultural contexts. Among other unique aspects of caste systems are the association with (traditional) occupation, beliefs concerning purity and pollution, and ‘untouchability’ practices. Although caste is distinct from the concept of race, both types of discrimination produce comparable forms of political, economic, and social exclusion.
Precisely because of its unique nature – as well as the vast numbers of people affected globally and the severity of associated human rights violations – IDSN believes that caste discrimination warrants separate and distinctive treatment in the UN human rights system.
IDSN considers the argument about whether caste is similar to race to be an unproductive debate on semantics. States have the principal duty to promote, protect and respect the rights of citizens affected by all forms of discrimination, including caste discrimination, in accordance with existing international human rights obligations. States must avoid serious implementation gaps of their obligations in order to adhere to the fundamental principles of equality and non-discrimination, regardless of the grounds on which discrimination is exercised.
Download full version of IDSN position paper on caste, race and descent
In 2002, CERD adopted General Recommendation 29 on the term “descent” in article 1(1) of the Convention, which reaffirmed that caste-based discrimination falls within the scope of the Convention and therefore constitutes an effective framework to improve analysis and reporting on governments’ performance.
Read about UN treaty body observations on caste discrimination
The UN Special Rapporteur has several times reaffirmed the position of CERD that discrimination on the grounds of caste falls within the scope of existing instruments, in particular the International Convention on the Elimination of Alls Forms of Racial Discrimination.
Read about the UN Special Rapporteur on racism and caste
Durban Declaration and Programme of Action
Read about the Durban Review Conference, DDPA and caste discrimination
More information:
IDSN recommendations to the Human Rights Council
UN Principles and Guidelines on the effective eliminate of discrimination based on work and descent
Latest: caste discrimination, caste & untouchability.
Find more on caste & untouchability
Find more on caste, race and descent
America’s most prominent caste equity activist, Thenmozhi Soundararajan, was slated to give a talk at Google in April, for Dalit History Month. She was ready, she said, to explain to one of the world’s largest tech companies that caste oppression is a problem — and that it probably exists under its roof, too.
She was armed with years worth of stats gathered through her civil rights organization, Equality Labs, which show that two-thirds of Dalits, those who have been historically oppressed under India’s caste system, have faced discrimination in their U.S. workplace.
But as news spread of her impending appearance, not everyone at Google was happy. A handful of Hindu employees said that they felt “targeted” on the basis of religion, a company statement and several anonymous interviews confirmed. They appealed to Google leadership asking that the speech be canceled, and so it was.
Soundararajan was informed her talk would not go forward, The Washington Post first reported.
“It was very troubling that Google News management could not discern disinformation and bigotry,” Soundararajan told NBC Asian America. “We are seeing people who have multiple protected classes weaponize language of equity to avoid confronting the systems that have given them privilege.”
In a statement to NBC Asian America, a Google representative said the company is against casteism, but Soundararajan’s speech would have been too divisive.
“Caste discrimination has no place in our workplace,” the company said. “Here, there was specific conduct, and internal posts, that made employees feel targeted and retaliated against for raising concerns about a proposed talk… We also made the decision to not move forward with the proposed talk which — rather than bringing our community together and raising awareness — was creating division and rancor.”
Dalits, or those born into marginalized castes in India’s rigid hierarchies, have faced violence and oppression on the subcontinent for thousands of years. Though the system is now illegal in India, its impacts are still far-reaching and can manifest in every aspect of life. With the growing Indian diaspora in the U.S., the system has been brought to a new continent.
It’s been two years since California sued tech conglomerate Cisco and blew open conversations about casteism in the U.S. (The lawsuit alleges the company failed to protect an Indian Dalit employee who was being actively targeted by his dominant-caste Hindu managers.)
Since then, a dialogue that employees say was once in the shadows has stirred the entirety of Silicon Valley.
“No one wants to be the next Cisco,” Soundararajan said.
Some things have changed. Twitter , Facebook and YouTube have started moderating caste-based hate speech on their platforms. Dell , Apple and Amazon now include caste-proficiency in some employee manuals and trainings.
But Dalit tech workers say that’s not enough. While caste policies are sweeping some sectors , like academia, it’s still not an explicitly protected category federally or at the biggest U.S. tech companies. This means Dalits have little institutional support in the industry. It's difficult for their complaints about caste discrimination at work to lead to disciplinary action, especially if their co-workers claim religious discrimination in response.
Religion, unlike caste, is a protected category in the workplace, and many non-Dalit coworkers aren't aware of the starkly different work environment they face, according to an expert.
“If you don’t have recognition of a form of discrimination that’s happening, there’s little recourse,” said Sonja Thomas, an associate professor at Colby College who has studied and written about casteism. “You can’t even bring a complaint, and the burden of proof is always going to be on the survivor.”
What the incident at Google proves, Dalit tech workers and allies say, is that open caste discrimination runs rampant in their industry. Many still hide their caste in fear of retaliation, and Dalit support groups only form outside of the office, where bosses can't single them out, experts say.
The onus falls on the marginalized to protect themselves, to find support and to advocate for their caste-oppressed peers, Thomas said, and those in power largely stand by and do nothing.
“Caste was the best kept secret at Google,” a current Google employee told NBC Asian America. “Nobody wanted to bring up the topic.”
An unmoderated message board used by more than 8,700 South Asian workers at Google is home to attacks and disagreements, as well as discriminatory statements about Dalits, staff members said. Google employees that are on the group say some dominant caste members have called Dalits "less educated" and equated caste equity to reverse discrimination.
“A lot of this has just created a very unsafe and toxic environment for caste-oppressed workers or those who are speaking up against caste,” one of the Google employees said.
Both employees told NBC News that co-workers have been reported to Human Resources as “Hinduphobic” for speaking up about casteism.
“At the workplace, it’s tricky because religion is a protected category,” the second employee said. “HR doesn’t have any competency around caste, and caste is not a protected category.” Google didn't respond to a request for comment about the message board's contents.
Other employees in the tech industry alleging caste-based discrimination say that what happened at Google is far from an isolated incident.
After her dominant caste Indian boss found out she was Dalit, a project manager, who has worked at some of the U.S.’s largest tech companies and asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation, said she immediately began to pick up on hostility from him. Some of it was subtle — she stopped getting invited out to lunch, her ideas were getting shut down.
After a while, she said, it became much more blatant.
“There was a project that I volunteered for. In front of everyone, he said, ‘Don’t touch that project because you’re ill-fated,’” the project manager said. “I never thought caste would manifest this way in the U.S. … I was shell-shocked.”
The 2020 Cisco lawsuit against Cisco cites an unnamed Dalit engineer who came forward saying two of his upper-caste managers openly enforced caste hierarchies in the office.
The lawsuit says that when the when the employee went to HR about the discrimination, he was allegedly told caste is not protected in the workplace. He was even reassigned and denied promotions because of the incident, it said.
A spokesperson at the time told Reuters that the company is pushing back hard against the lawsuit. “Cisco is committed to an inclusive workplace for all,” she said. “We were fully in compliance with all laws as well as our own policies.”
The case was ultimately dropped and refiled in a county court , but many Dalit tech workers nationwide say the allegations resonate with them. The project manager said she understands this fear of coming forward about harassment. When experiencing workplace discrimination herself, she said she considered going to HR too, but ultimately decided against it.
“The question was, how can I even take this to HR because HR wouldn’t even understand what caste is,” she said. “There’s no education about caste. I would have to start from scratch.”
Another Dalit tech worker, who asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation, said the stakes of coming forward are extremely high.
At a client lunch, he said he listened to his Hindu colleagues defending the caste system to a white co-worker. When he stepped in to advocate for India’s oppressed classes, he said the change in his treatment was instantaneous. He received lower performance ratings and was eventually reassigned to the company’s office in India.
“He knew that he was doing my green-card processing,” he said. “He promised me that he would do my green card and suddenly, I was told I had to go to India. My daughters ... one was in elementary school and one was in high school. I was planning for them to be educated here.”
Afraid of going to HR and being terminated, he took his family back to India. Eventually, he was able to find another job in the U.S., but his kids faced setbacks in their education and development.
Both Dalit workers said their stories highlight the necessity of caste being added as a protected category in the U.S. workplace. With the incident at Google compounding the public awareness, Silicon Valley is in another reckoning, the project manager said.
“You can actually see how casteist mindsets work,” she said. “How casteism really exists. You are seeing it happen in real time in front of your eyes.”
Because of the field’s heavily South Asian makeup, experts say tech has the potential to be a leader in equity. But without education on the far-reaching impacts of the caste system, Dalits and allies fear nothing will change.
“Now, I’m trying to hide my caste identity,” she said. “I don’t want the same thing to happen at my workplace. I just want to do my work. I want to thrive, not just survive.”
Soundararajan felt like she was in the dark after her talk was abruptly canceled. She said she appealed to multiple managers at Google in an effort to get her talk reinstated, and was ultimately given little explanation as to why it was snuffed.
A company higher-up told her “‘caste is not a protected category, so Google isn’t mandated to have these conversations,’” she said. Google did not respond to a request for comment on this allegation.
A former Google News manager, Tanuja Gupta, pushed alongside Soundararajan, even starting a companywide petition to allow her to speak. But after being told several times that there was a further vetting process taking place to evaluate the potential speaker, Dalit History Month passed. Asian American History month passed as well. And neither woman received any updates.
Gupta declined to speak to NBC News.
In a widely circulated resignation email obtained by The Washington Post, Gupta said her advocacy put a target on her back. After circulating the petition, she said she was made ineligible for promotions and her performance rating was lowered, plus she was barred from contacting any other Dalit speakers, so she chose to step down.
Google confirmed in its statement that it gave an employee a formal warning about their job performance, but declined to divulge further details or answer questions about Gupta’s employment.
“Caste-oppressed people are minorities within minorities,” Soundararajan said. “It is very obvious that Google management completely lacks comprehensive basics around what caste equity is and does not know how to create a safe workplace for caste-oppressed workers.”
While these may feel like new conversations to dominant-caste folks, Thomas said Dalits have been having them for years.
“The burden of proof is on them, and we know that re-traumatizes people,” she said. “When it comes to caste, we ask people to re-traumatize themselves, to talk about their experiences over and over and over.”
Indian American Google CEO Sundar Pichai has long been vocal on issues of equality. In a note sent to the entire company in June 2020 , he called out the “structural and systemic racism that Black people have experienced over generations.”
He committed to improving representation in Google employees of all levels, starting anti-racism programming, donating money to racial justice orgs and supporting Black-owned businesses.
But employees say when it comes to caste discrimination, the CEO, who is from a dominant caste, has been noticeably silent.
“It’s very odd and malicious,” one of the anonymous Google employees said.
Another said he sees a willful ignorance on the part of executives.
“Google as a company is very data-driven,” he said. “Internally, a lot of policies we’ve seen change have been, for better or worse, after some data about it was collected. With respect to caste, there is no official or unofficial data around representation. And Google has not shown any intent to collect any sort of data.”
Soundararajan and Gupta ended up holding their caste equity talk anyway. It wasn’t sanctioned by Google, as Gupta had to explicitly say at the beginning, but it was streamed on YouTube , where it has gathered thousands of views.
“The South Asian American community, we are in a reckoning about caste,” Soundararajan said. “And people who have always had privilege and who have dominated the microphone on this issue are very uncomfortable with having to share space for the first time with caste and religious minorities.”
Sakshi Venkatraman is a reporter for NBC Asian America.
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Life at the Margins: The Challenges of Multiple Discrimination
This Minority Story is a collection of short articles and case studies focusing on discrimination on different grounds.
by Nora Ellen Groce According to the World Health Organization (WHO), people with disabilities – that is, people with physical, sensory, intellectual or mental health disabilities – make up 15 per cent of the world’s population. Yet when…
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by Jasmin Qureshi The rights of minority and indigenous children and young people are often not ensured or protected. They face barriers to education, for example, and lack basic health care in many parts of the world. Children are already…
by Rebecca Marlin Indigenous Endorois had inhabited Lake Bogoria for centuries when, in the 1970s, the Kenyan government forcibly removed them from their ancestral land. Their eviction brought to an end a unique way of life rich with culture…
by Jasmin Qureshi Across the globe, older people face discrimination in all areas of their lives. Whether they are accessing health care, seeking employment, or protecting their right to their land, older people are likely to experience…
Older people from minority and indigenous backgrounds are well respected leaders and often credited with improving the well-being of their families and communities. These photos tell some of their stories. Kee Or, 104-year-old spiritual leader…
by Electra Babouri Socio-economic inequality is determined by a complex range of factors, manifested in many interconnected spheres, such as livelihoods, income, material assets, access to social goods, influence and participation. While state…
by Hanna Hindstrom Four years ago, a typhoon struck the northern Filipino city of Baguio. The storm ruptured the walls of the city’s mounting garbage dump, sending hundreds of tonnes of urban waste cascading into the streets. The landslide…
by Farah Mihlar Minority and indigenous women face a unique set of challenges on account of their gender and community status, a form of intersectional discrimination that is often particularly difficult to address. As neither men within the…
by Mariah Grant Ciudad Juárez is a striking example of both the good and the bad that the economic opportunities inherent to urbanization can bring. This city of nearly 1.5 million inhabitants is situated on the Mexico side of the border with…
by Peter Grant Across the world, lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT) people face discrimination, stigmatization and targeted violence as a result of their sexual orientation or gender identity. However, the challenges faced by those…
The Manu Project, jointly conceived by London-based friends and collaborators Lyall Hakaraia and Emma Eastwood, was initiated as a way to encourage queer indigenous and migrant youth to share their views on gender, identity and culture. Through…
by Nora Ellen Groce
According to the World Health Organization (WHO), people with disabilities – that is, people with physical, sensory, intellectual or mental health disabilities – make up 15 per cent of the world’s population. Yet when attention is focused on indigenous or minority issues, the situation of those living with disabilities within those communities is rarely considered. Too often, members of indigenous and minority populations who live with a disability, and their families, find themselves struggling to meet the competing needs and challenges of their identity within often marginalized communities and the demands of living with a disability. People with disabilities in indigenous and minority communities represent a group often overlooked, yet who have much to contribute to their communities and to the broader society.
In many ways, disability is a key cross-cutting issue that frequently is overlooked even by those who work on cross-cutting issues. Disability is considered – if it is considered at all – as a medical concern to be described and discussed within realms of clinical medical and public health. This ‘medical model’ has been replaced over the past 20 years, however, by an emerging ‘social model’ – the realization on the part of policy makers, organizations and advocates that the key barriers facing people with disabilities worldwide are not their health or rehabilitation needs, but poverty, social exclusion and injustice .
Indeed, the new UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities , now signed by 160 countries, specially speaks to the broad nature of disability when it describes disability itself as ‘an evolving concept’ and states that ‘disability results from the interaction between persons with impairments and attitudinal and environmental barriers that hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others’.
Disability never constitutes anyone’s full identity however – all people who are born or who become disabled are also members of other cultural and socio-economic groups. The intersectionality between disability and other groups that face discrimination has come under increased attention in recent years, but we still know relatively little about many aspects of living with a disability within groups that face poverty, prejudice and social marginalization.
Certainly within indigenous and minority communities, the issues faced by children and adults with disabilities – and their families – is of particular concern. Many of these communities already face disproportionate levels of poverty and are less likely to receive equal access to resources or services such as education or health, that are available to non-indigenous populations in the same community or country.
Here there is a compounding set of issues that makes the lives of people with disabilities of particular concern, both within and beyond the community. Many of these issues are interlinked. For example, even in very poor communities, people with disabilities and their households are more likely to live in poverty than their non-disabled neighbours. This has more to do with lack of access to resources throughout the life cycle – people with disabilities are less likely to attend school, be able to get a job, and are less likely to be permitted to participate freely in the social, economic and political life of their communities. In those indigenous and minority communities where members live in hard-to-reach remote rural areas or in urban slum communities, access becomes harder still .
Compounding this, in many traditional communities, there are beliefs about how and why certain children or adults become disabled that promote social isolation, stigma and discrimination against the individual and their family. It is important to note that such belief systems will differ by indigenous or minority group and by type of disability – and some traditions have positive and supportive attitudes towards disability. For example, in some traditional communities, children and adults who have epileptic seizures may be perceived as being in closer touch with ancestors, gods or the afterlife.
Moreover, in many indigenous or minority communities where there is great need, people with disabilities are often encouraged or told to wait to ask for or demand access to resources by members of their own communities. ‘We will get help for our disabled children,’ an elder chief of one Native American community told this author, ‘once our other children are provided for.’ What this attitude overlooks is that disability rights are inseparable from other human rights, and all children’s lives – including the lives of children with disabilities – are of equal value. Asking children with disabilities and their families to wait until an undefined point in the future as a contribution to the broader needs of an indigenous or minority community means that progress is delayed for all.
Nor is poverty alone an issue. Due to poverty, less access to health care, poor working conditions and gender-based violence, women are at higher risk of becoming disabled than men, and may make up as many as three-quarters of all those with disabilities in low- and middle-income countries. And as populations age, the number of people aged 60 and above living with disability grows. This growth is taking place in two distinct groups: people disabled at birth or in adulthood, familiar with disability, who, with improved medical care, are now surviving into older age; and people who become disabled as a result of illness or injury in old age. Members of indigenous and minority populations are at increased risk of becoming disabled as they age, due to poverty, lack of access to adequate medical care, housing or nutritious food, and violence in areas in which they live. For example, in the United States, African Americans are more likely to be disabled throughout the life cycle, with black/white differences peaking in midlife (50–69 years of age), and African Americans being between 1.5 to 2 times as likely to live with a disabilities as their white peers.
All these issues have specific implications when disability intersects with indigenous or minority community concerns. Lack of opportunity and destruction of traditional community beliefs and practices has led to high rates of alcohol abuse in a number of indigenous and minority communities, for instance, causing the routine birth of children with foetal alcohol syndrome (FAS), which leads to non-reversible and often significant developmental delays. In the United States , while the prevalence of children born with FAS will vary from tribal group to tribal group and within many tribal communities, ‘the prevalence of FAS in Alaska is 5.6 per 1,000 live births for American Indians/Alaska Natives, compared to 1.5 per 1,000 in the state overall.’
And of course, many issues related to disability can be compounded not just in one but in several domains. For example, an impoverished older LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) woman from a rural indigenous or minority community who is disabled faces not one, but a series of challenges and barriers that have direct implications for her ability to live on a daily basis and plan for a future.
Rethinking disability – moving the issue from a medical concern to a human rights and international development issue – has been slow in coming. But within the past decade changes are beginning to occur rapidly for people with disabilities at both national and international levels. And these changes have direct implications for people with disabilities in indigenous and minority communities.
The Millennium Development Goals, written in 2000, unfortunately overlooked disability entirely – there was no mention of disability in any of the Goals, Targets or Indicators. Yet the United Nations (UN) Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, the first human rights treaty of the twenty-first century, which entered into force in 2008, has now established critical parameters for inclusion of persons with disabilities within all legislative and development efforts. The 160 countries which have currently signed or signed and ratified this Convention have recently or are now in the process of rewriting all their national laws and policies to comply with the Convention.
This new emphasis on ensuring rights for all people with disabilities is further reflected in the new Sustainable Development Goals , which implicitly, and in several Targets explicitly, includes people with disabilities throughout. This emphasis on ensuring inclusion for all is emphasized in the strapline for the Goals themselves: ‘Leave No One Behind’.
While all these efforts are admirable, there is concern that people with disabilities in indigenous and minority communities may benefit less, or not benefit at all. Poverty, marginalization and lack of information about disability rights within these communities, as well as competing priorities within indigenous and minority communities in combination with traditional beliefs and practices, may make accessing new rights and resources more difficult for disabled members of these populations.
Very significantly, a small but growing number of people with disabilities within indigenous and minority communities are now stepping forward themselves to have their concerns heard – both within and beyond their own communities. Indeed, national coalitions of indigenous and minority people with disabilities are increasing. For example, in Australia the First Peoples’ Disability Network , founded in 1999, is a national coalition of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders with disabilities who advocate about indigenous and disability issues. Balancing both the concerns of indigenous communities and people with disabilities, as well as issues specifically concerning indigenous people with disabilities, such organizations are a distinctive voice on behalf of both indigenous and minority groups, and the disability rights community.
In summary, a growing body of research and advocacy tells us that when people with disabilities are able to participate fully and freely in their communities – and are able to have equal access to the support, inclusion and resources available – all members of the community benefit. All groups and advocates working within or on behalf of indigenous and minority communities must not forget to include these millions of children and adults in all the policy, programmes and advocacy work they undertake.
Many of these groups are mobilizing around these intersecting identities to subvert stereotypes and highlight injustices.
Photo: African American young people reading using braille. Credit: NASA HQ.
Dalits, long victim to a caste-based system of social hierarchy that regards them as ‘untouchables’, comprise around 17 per cent of India’s total population. While caste-based discrimination was outlawed in 1955, the social phenomenon of caste persists and is imparted through birth. As a result, Dalits still face severe hardship and exclusion from mainstream society, with prejudicial attitudes and practices underlying much of Indian society today.
Acting simultaneously as a social and physical condition, disability – which varies in form and severity, and may be present from birth or developed during the course of a person’s lifetime – is considerably more prevalent among Dalits than upper castes: 2.4 per cent compared to 1.8 per cent, according to one report . Dalits are also more likely to have severe forms of disabilities generally, and more specifically, to acquire them at a young age. This is due in part to the influence of factors connected to poorer living conditions, such as anemia, pneumonia and low levels of nutrition.
The intersection of disability with caste can compound the myriad issues faced by Dalits. Disabilities reinforce disadvantage linked to Dalit identity and its consequent deprivation of rights, opportunities, and resources. Dalit children, who already struggle to attend school due to having to physical distance, segregation and discriminatory treatment, face even greater difficulties accessing education when they have disabilities.
In rural areas, where the situation is particularly bleak, lack of basic skills gained through education restricts opportunities for vocational and other training leading to employment. Yet access to employment also depends on social capital, and persons with disabilities – and to an even greater extent those who are Dalits – suffer from stigmatization and negative stereotypes that cast them as unproductive and dependent. The low educational and employment status of Dalits with disabilities in turn increases the likelihood that their households, whose limited resources are already stretched, will face poorer living conditions and greater poverty.
Even natural disasters can be discriminatory in their impacts, affecting Dalits, particularly those with disabilities, disproportionately due to their settlements being situated in vulnerable locations such as rubbish dumps, river banks and other high-risk areas. Furthermore, the response of authorities to assist victims can reinforce this disparity through discrimination. In November 2015, for instance, after devastating floods swept through Tamil Nadu, hundreds of Dalit families who lost their homes and livelihoods found themselves neglected by government relief efforts. Differing starkly from the treatment of upper-caste families, many Dalits were not provided with adequate food, drinking water or emergency health support services, nor even received visits from officials to assess their losses and needs.
Dalit women and girls with disabilities, situated at the bottom of India’s social hierarchy, are especially vulnerable. They in many cases perform the most dangerous and degrading work, placing their health at greater risk, and suffer a constant threat of sexual violence from members of their own community as well as upper castes. Those with disabilities are especially vulnerable to abuse and exploitation. While the majority of cases go undocumented, a number of recently reported incidents highlight the severity of their situation. In January 2016, for example, a deaf-mute Dalit woman was gang-raped and thrown from a train in Uttar Pradesh, and at the beginning of February 2016 when a man was arrested for raping a deaf-mute Dalit girl in Berhampur, Odisha.
The vulnerability and marginalization faced by Dalits with disabilities is in part a reflection of inadequate government policies and programmes to protect their human rights. While positive efforts have been made to improve the situation of Dalits – through Constitutional amendment, legislation and monitoring bodies, job quotas, affirmative action in the public sector and education – there remains insufficient political will to adequately acknowledge and address discrimination against Dalits in India and work to abolish caste itself. As for persons with disabilities, there have been some recent signs of progress, with the Minister for Justice and Social Empowerment announcing in early 2016 that the Rights of Persons with Disabilities Bill had been drafted, which would help persons with disabilities derive greater benefits from welfare schemes.
But while a stronger rights framework for Dalits and persons with disabilities is urgently needed, this alone may not necessarily bring justice and equality for Dalits with disabilities, who may still find themselves marginalized. It is important therefore that the unique challenges of intersectionality for Dalits with disabilities are also recognized to ensure that they do not continue to be left behind.
Photo: Dalit mother and child in India. Credit: Thessaly La Force.
by Jasmin Qureshi
The rights of minority and indigenous children and young people are often not ensured or protected. They face barriers to education, for example, and lack basic health care in many parts of the world. Children are already particularly vulnerable in situations of poverty, conflict and other humanitarian emergencies, and are doubly so if they come from a minority or indigenous background.
Minorities and indigenous communities are often some of the poorest in their countries, leaving many children living in impoverished conditions. This in turn limits their access to education. For example, in New Zealand, over 40 per cent of Pacific children are living in poverty. Poverty often forces minority and indigenous families to send their children to work or take care of young siblings rather than attend school.
Minority and indigenous girls face particular barriers to education. In some contexts, girls may experience forced marriage, which prevents them from completing their education. For example, in Mexico indigenous girls tend to marry between the ages of 13 and 16 in arrangements that sometimes involve the exchange of cash. Also, from childhood indigenous girls are expected to help their mothers: their ‘normal’ workday can last as long as 18 hours, leaving little time for education, which in many cases is unaffordable. This has resulted in a gender disparity with regard to education: 50 per cent of indigenous women have not completed primary school, versus 42 per cent of indigenous men.
In Burundi, there is low enrolment and high drop-out rates among Batwa girls in primary and secondary education. An MRG report in 2010 found that Batwa boys and girls from other ethnic groups are twice as likely to go to school as Batwa girls. Drop-out rates for Batwa girls are double those for Batwa boys. Factors contributing to Batwa girls’ lack of access to education include poverty, the attitude of Batwa parents towards the education of girls and early marriage.
Roma and other minority children in Europe are also discriminated against when accessing education. One high-profile case occurred in Sofades, a town in Thessaly, central Greece, where Roma children used to be segregated into a separate primary school. In 2013, the European Court of Human Rights in the case of Lavida and Others v. Greece ruled that this segregation constituted discrimination and a breach of the right to education. However, this was by no means an isolated case – it was the third European Court ruling on discrimination against Roma pupils in Greece.
Language policies and barriers can impact on the education of minority children and young people. For example in Tajikistan, the use of anything besides the majority Tajik language is discouraged and university applicants must be fluent in Tajik. For minority Uzbek communities, this can pose a barrier to education. Although schoolchildren study the Tajik language for two hours a day, for many rural Uzbeks this is not enough to master reading and writing.
In Namibia, Himba and San children are not allowed to wear traditional clothes and are not taught in their mother tongue. As a result, San and Himba lag behind in educational attainment in comparison with other groups: only 7 per cent of San children are enrolled at the junior secondary level, and less than 1 per cent in senior secondary schools. The semi-nomadic lifestyle of Himba also means that children are unable to attend mainstream schools.
Minority and indigenous children can face discrimination at school from pupils or teachers, which leads to higher drop-out rates for minority and indigenous children. For example, in Afghanistan there have been reports that children from Hindu and Sikh communities were forced to drop out of school because of bullying. Minority and indigenous students may find themselves ostracized not only by their peers, but also by teachers responsible for their care.
Lack of access to quality education for minority and indigenous children continues to have a negative impact later in their lives. This can lead to lower levels of employment for young people and other serious consequences.
In the United States, sub-standard education for poor students attending schools in less affluent neighbourhoods, as is the case for many African American children, has a long-term impact on their future economic well-being. Furthermore, limited educational opportunities for African American students have been associated with a phenomenon known as the ‘school-to-prison pipeline’. The increase of police officers inside schools has led to increased contact with the criminal justice system, and infractions which were previously dealt with by teachers and school administrators now lead to fines and even incarceration in juvenile facilities.
This experience has long-term ramifications, as children and adolescents sent to juvenile facilities are 37 times more likely to be arrested again as adults. Students with criminal records are further marginalized in some school districts through the use of alternative schools, which segregate them from the general student population. The discrimination faced by African Americans within the school system is therefore linked to and mirrored by their disproportionate incarceration rates in the country’s prisons, with African Americans accounting for 41 per cent of those imprisoned despite making up just 13 per cent of the national population.
Similarly, for Brazil’s Afro-descendant community there is massive inequality in young people’s access to education and other services. With little opportunity to improve their lives, young Afro-Brazilian men face a high risk of being drawn into drug gangs and violence.
Minority and indigenous children suffer higher levels of ill health and poorer quality of care across the globe. There are also insufficient numbers of health centres, including mother and child health services and tuberculosis clinics, in minority areas.
International studies show that indigenous children have worse health indicators than non-indigenous children in almost every context. They suffer malnutrition and childhood diseases at rates higher than non-indigenous children, as well as greater levels of infant mortality. In the Republic of Congo, mortality from measles has been estimated to be five times higher in Ba’Aka children than neighbouring Bantu communities. Similarly, in Yunnan Province, China, indigenous infant mortality rates have been estimated at almost 78 per 1,000 live births, compared to an average of just under 27 per 1,000 at a national level and under 54 per 1,000 for non-indigenous populations in Yunnan.
In part, these indicators reflect extreme levels of poverty, which are often especially acute among minority and indigenous populations. In India, for instance, Dalit girls are more likely to have stunted growth or be underweight, and child malnutrition is about 14–20 per cent higher for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes and has been declining at a slower rate than for the rest of the population over the last 15 years .
However, health problems can also arise as a direct result of state policies and development programmes – even those supposedly bringing economic benefits to a country or region. In Sarawak, for example, in the Malaysian part of Borneo, logging operations and oil palm plantations have encroached on the indigenous Penan people’s land. As a result, the community has become more impoverished and are suffering from poor health, with Penan children increasingly afflicted by diarrhoea and influenza.
Mental health problems and suicide rates among indigenous young people can also be higher than those in the non-indigenous population. This is often linked to ‘acculturation’, particularly if the indigenous community has been forced into urban settings, where urban indigenous children and their families lose vital connections to their communities’ traditional lands and cultures, and often experience the worst situations of urban marginalization, discrimination and poverty.
Minority and indigenous girls are discriminated against because of their sex and because they are members of a marginalized group. While the difficulties they experience in part reflect their community identity, these challenges are further reinforced by gender inequalities which further marginalize them. For example, girls from minority and indigenous communities often have less access to education and experience higher levels of marginalization at school than either males within their community or girls from majority populations.
They are particularly vulnerable to trafficking, rape, domestic violence and other forms of abuse. For example, in Australia, indigenous women and girls face the highest levels of violence of any ethnic group in the country. This violence, directly or indirectly, also limits their freedom of movement and access to benefits such as employment, education and health care, not to mention participation in political and civic life. While minority and indigenous girls frequently face violence from majority populations, abuse and inequalities are also experienced within their own communities. For example, harmful cultural and religious practices, such as female genital mutilation (FGM) in pastoralist communities in Africa, can have lasting impacts on their physical and mental well-being.
Minority and indigenous children and young people, particularly girls and young women, are often denied equal access to education and health care, as well as employment later on in life. Due to intersectional discrimination on account of their age and identity, they are frequently among the most vulnerable populations, and therefore any assistance targeting this group must be designed sensitively to reflect their unique situation. Any programmes and policies designed to protect children’s and young people’s rights must not only treat them as people with agency, but also ensure that the particular perspectives of members of minority or indigenous communities are taken into account.
Photo: Roma young women in Romania. Credit: World Bank Photo Collection.
by Rebecca Marlin
Indigenous Endorois had inhabited Lake Bogoria for centuries when, in the 1970s, the Kenyan government forcibly removed them from their ancestral land. Their eviction brought to an end a unique way of life rich with culture and tradition, and they have been advocating for the rightful return of their land ever since. Despite a 2010 ruling by the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights in their favour, secured with MRG’s support, the government has yet to comply.
In October 2014, MRG spent three weeks visiting the areas near Lake Bogoria where the community is now based, and interviewed nearly 500 Endorois about their lives. Many Endorois described how, while living at Lake Bogoria, they engaged in a variety of cultural and religious activities, such as worshipping at the graves of their ancestors, collecting herbs for medicinal purposes and practising initiation ceremonies. As pastoralists, they followed the natural grazing patterns of their livestock, and maintained beehives to collect honey.
In the 40 years since their displacement, however, the Endorois have been struggling to maintain their traditions, while living in marginal areas with extremely limited access to health care, basic infrastructure and education. As a result, younger generations have made efforts to better their lives by heading to cities such as Eldoret, Nakuru and Nairobi. Their reasons for moving are varied: some are in search of higher education, others are looking for employment, while many are also seeking to escape frequent outbreaks of violence as a result of cattle-rustling carried out by neighbouring communities.
Some Endorois youth, frustrated by their marginalized status, also leave in the hope of securing greater recognition within Kenyan society. One Endorois attending law school in Nairobi discussed the numerous challenges facing young Endorois, such as ongoing government repression, exclusion from local job recruitment, leadership problems and their continued stigmatization. He explained that these factors ‘have caused the youth to move away from Endorois land in order to disassociate from the community and be given greater consideration by Kenyan leaders’.
Migration to urban areas has produced benefits and challenges for Endorois families. On the positive side, it has given young Endorois access to higher education and frequently the skills they gain may be used to improve the lives of their community as well. Endorois who find employment in cities are also able to send some of their wages home to their families, where they are desperately needed.
At the same time, Endorois who move to larger cities report that they face discrimination based on their minority status and often are only able to find employment in non-permanent or contract-based jobs, usually in private security or domestic work. Endorois employed in this way are rarely given time off by their employers to visit their families, who often can only be reached after a long journey through remote and potentially dangerous areas. The result is that many young Endorois end up not returning home for extended periods, and find themselves increasingly out of touch with day-to-day life within the Endorois community.
Endorois tradition is passed down from elders to youth, with frequent interaction between the two groups. With more and more from the younger generation leaving their rural communities, however, this chain has been broken. Almost all Endorois surveyed, both elders and youth, reported that they felt the younger generation were losing their culture. One Endorois woman remarked that it was sad to see so many Endorois leaving at a young age for cities, because ‘this is the time when the younger generation is expected to learn how ceremonies are conducted. Generations to come will lose the unique Endorois culture and livelihood as they are continuously exposed to urban culture.’ Endorois also find that it is frequently those who might become Endorois leaders who are most likely to leave. ‘The community is affected when the youth move out, leaving them without energetic and visionary people,’ said one Endorois man. ‘Those with ideas do not share them with the community and the community is left behind.’
Endorois are therefore struggling to develop a way to maintain their traditions in the face of the strong draw of the cities, but many feel defeated. A majority of those surveyed believed that the only way to ensure Endorois youth remained in the community was to regain access to their territory at Lake Bogoria, where they could fully reinstate their traditions and offer a more attractive future to the next generation. Despite the government’s obligation to restore their land, return remains a distant reality for Kenya’s Endorois, who must now struggle with the loss not only of their culture, livelihoods and traditions, but their youth as well.
This case study was originally published in MRG’s State of the World’s Minorities and Indigenous Peoples 2015 .
Photo: Lake Bogoria, Kenya. Credit: MRG.
Across the globe, older people face discrimination in all areas of their lives. Whether they are accessing health care, seeking employment, or protecting their right to their land, older people are likely to experience discrimination because of their age.
‘Sometimes age discrimination is subtle: lack of transportation may prevent older people from taking part in social activities, which is a right everyone shares. At the other end of the scale, there are appalling cases of neglect and violence against older people.’ (HelpAge International)
If an older person is also a member of a minority or indigenous community then they are particularly marginalized and vulnerable. They are likely to experience intersectional discrimination on the basis of their age as well as their ethnic, linguistic or religious background, or indigenous status.
Minority older people are often among the poorest members of their countries. In the US, for example, poverty rates vary significantly by ethnicity among older people (aged 65 and above): 17.1 per cent of older black people and 18.7 per cent of older Hispanic people are living in poverty, compared with 6.8 per cent of older white people. This is compounded by the fact older people face discrimination at work or when seeking employment, even in countries where laws are in place to prevent this.
Older people from minority or indigenous communities are also particularly vulnerable during conflict or post-conflict situations, or when natural disasters strike. For example, after the ethnic conflict in Osh, Kyrgyzstan , in June 2010, many older people were left in financial hardship: HelpAge International research conducted in the wake of the violence found that 37 per cent of older people surveyed reported having no money. However, when disaggregated by ethnicity the findings suggested an even more acute situation among the Uzbek minority, with 55 per cent of older people from their community reporting a lack of money, compared to 20 per cent of majority older Kyrgyz people. A high percentage of older Uzbek people also said they were unable to procure essential medical supplies in the aftermath of the conflict.
At the same time, older people are a key economic resource often overlooked by governments and make substantial contributions to the well-being of their families and communities. Older people in minority and indigenous communities play an important role as respected leaders and human rights activists. They help bring communities together and provide support to younger members, who may need extra support when dealing with the sense of marginalization that can come with being part of a minority or indigenous people.
The world’s population is ageing as people are living longer. This means access to appropriate health and social care is essential to ensure that older people can enjoy healthy, active lives.
Yet older members of minority and indigenous communities experience barriers to accessing the health care they need and are entitled to. Language barriers are one of the main issues when trying to obtain health care for minority groups. Research by the Fundamental Rights Agency of the European Union on inequalities in access to health care found that language is a key barrier, particularly for minority older persons and women, who interact less with mainstream society.
Lack of consideration among health professionals of diverse cultural practices also prevents some groups from accessing health services. Muslim women living in Europe, for example, can feel uncomfortable with male medical staff or interpreters. In Thailand, Malay Muslims encounter problems in accessing health care. These include communication problems for elderly Muslims in public hospitals and the failure of some health care centres to accommodate Muslim customs.
The UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights has outlined minimum standards for delivering on the right to health. These stipulate that health services must be provided in a manner that is compatible with cultural and linguistic rights, for example, by providing services in local languages and sensitive to different cultural practices. Charities working on older peoples’ rights have also called for culturally responsive care for older people from ethnic minority backgrounds – such as providing interpreters or providing appropriate food according to the person’s religious background.
Some minority groups are particularly prone to depression in older age. This could be due to feelings of isolation and loneliness, because of their status as a minority as well as their age. HelpAge International has reported on the devastating effects of what it terms ‘cumulative age discrimination’ – the cumulative impact of a lifetime of discrimination for older people. Minority people may have experienced discrimination all their lives, which has serious consequences in old age.
Again, older people belonging to minority and indigenous communities are likely to face barriers to gaining help for mental health issues, for example due to stigma surrounding mental health illnesses such as dementia and depression, or because of language barriers and not knowing where to go for help.
On a more positive note, older people play an important role in traditional health and the collective well-being of indigenous communities. For example, in many indigenous cultures in Latin America, an elderly indigenous woman in the community is chosen each year to become the Pachamama (or Earth Mother), advising the whole community and guiding them towards a caring relationship with the environment. In the US, it has been noted that elders play a key role in preventing health problems and improving well-being among indigenous communities. There are high suicide rates among Native American communities, particularly of young people, driven by socio-economic factors such as high unemployment rates, land dispossession, marginalization, language loss, cultural disintegration and exclusion. However, family and clan relationships, reverence for elders and a deeply held spiritual life are among the key protective factors for young people’s well-being.
The land rights of older people from minorities and indigenous communities can be particularly insecure, especially in situations of conflict or land-grabbing. For many older people from minority and indigenous communities, losing their land also means the loss of their main source of income as many are occupied in work such as agriculture that is tied to their land.
For example, in Kenya, the government evictions of indigenous Ogiek from their ancestral land in the Mau Forest and around Mount Elgon has left entire communities homeless or without proper housing. This particularly affects older people, who are forced to sleep on the bare ground and are unable to access health care . Similarly, in Europe, forced evictions of Roma communities have left older people particularly vulnerable.
Being separated from traditional lands comes with many negative impacts and complications for older minority and indigenous people. During the long conflict in northern Uganda, many Acholi people lived in IDP (internally displaced persons) camps for as long as 20 years. During this time, people were separated from their land for protracted periods. When the camps were disbanded and people began to return to their land, customary rules for land tenure meant there was confusion over who owned different areas of land. In such a context, the land rights of those with the least power – widows, the disabled, the elderly – were very insecure .
Being separated from traditional lands also affects older people’s role in passing on traditional knowledge and customs to younger generations. In addition, the process of urbanization in many parts of the world has resulted in assimilation and loss of cultural knowledge systems. In Tanzania, for example, Maasai women who practise traditional medicine have found it difficult to continue upon relocation to cities, where medical boards and city authorities demand a licence and a permanent location for their work, amounting to largely unaffordable expenses .
Older people from minority or indigenous communities are likely to face intersectional discrimination with regard to health, work, land and other human rights issues in many parts of the world. Some non-governmental organizations are calling for an international convention to protect older people’s rights as well as the collection of disaggregated data with regard to age. Any such actions must also take into account the situation of older people belonging to minorities and indigenous peoples, while their0 many positive contributions must not be forgotten.
Older people in minority and indigenous communities play an important role as respected leaders and human rights activists.
Photo: Pastoralist elders in Cameroon. Credit: Emma Eastwood/MRG.
Older people from minority and indigenous backgrounds are well respected leaders and often credited with improving the well-being of their families and communities. These photos tell some of their stories.
by Electra Babouri
Socio-economic inequality is determined by a complex range of factors, manifested in many interconnected spheres, such as livelihoods, income, material assets, access to social goods, influence and participation. While state policies have often focused heavily on national averages and broadly defined groups, to address the specific disparities experienced by those most marginalized – including many minority and indigenous communities – it is necessary to look at how identities, social norms and structural factors intersect to create distinct patterns of experience. For many minority and indigenous communities, this interconnectedness forms the basis of their well-being: if disadvantage is experienced in one sphere, other areas are also likely to be affected.
Access to decent employment, as well as traditional non-market and subsistence-based economies, are essential for minorities and indigenous peoples to achieve socioeconomic equality. Without this, human agency and social connections are weakened, leading to many social problems. Yet these sources of livelihood are often vulnerable to environmental change and other pressures, including those caused by development initiatives by governments or corporations.
For example, there are approximately 200 million pastoralists worldwide, including minority and indigenous communities such as Tuareg in the Sahara and Maasai in Eastern Africa. Their livelihoods are often restricted or halted due to a range of factors, including climate change, sedentarization, appropriation of land and insensitively designed conservation projects (United Nations, State of the World’s Indigenous Peoples, New York, UN, 2009). Representatives of pastoralist communities have highlighted how this impacts them in multiple ways, undermining their culture, dignity and spirituality, as well as their subsistence base and access to markets .
Livelihoods can themselves be a source of discrimination and stigma. For example, in Thailand’s upland forests Akha, Hmong, Lahu and Lisu communities engage in swidden agriculture – a practice frequently seen by outsiders as ‘uncivilized’ compared to the settled wet rice cultivation of the lowlands (Kabeer, N., ‘The challenges of intersecting inequality’, Maitreyee, 24, July 2014). Disregard for traditional livelihoods and appropriation of land for large-scale development or extraction schemes has forced hundreds of thousands of persons belonging to minority and indigenous communities to migrate or resettle elsewhere, in many cases pushed by resource depletion, enforced state policies and targeted violence. For example, in Laos and Vietnam large-scale dam projects have led to the relocation of entire communities en masse , often leading to their disintegration due to a lack of economic opportunities and friction with other residents over limited resources such as land.
Minorities and indigenous peoples frequently experience low income levels due to discrimination and lack of skills deemed commercially useful, such as those used by women to make traditional arts and crafts that have been replaced by market goods. For example, in Bolivia, 67 per cent of the unskilled workers are reportedly indigenous, while only 4 per cent of indigenous occupy high-level positions, leading to pronounced income disparities between indigenous and mestizo workers.
For minority women, opportunities to carry out chosen livelihoods and decent work are frequently constrained. For example, of the approximately 100 million Dalit women in India, the majority have restricted access to basic services, resources and public places, with many forced into unsafe and poorly paid work, such as manual scavenging, to survive. In addition, at a national level, a disproportionate percentage of ‘single’ women – meaning widowed, separated, divorced or unmarried – are Dalit: when they separate most get dispossessed, and when widowed their inheritance is typically handed to their sons or male relatives on whom they then have to depend.
Unfortunately, existing socio-economic policies fail to address the complex nature of the disadvantage created by the convergence of caste, gender and marital status. For instance, Dalit women often struggle to access available support in accessing work opportunities: as women and members of a minority, they are frequently sidelined by both majority women and members of their own community. For instance, when they apply for the scheduled caste quota they may find themselves directed to apply instead for the women’s quota, and vice versa.
As with livelihoods, accessing services – including education, health care, water supply and sanitation – can promote greater equality and better life opportunities. However, minorities and indigenous peoples commonly inhabit locations that are underserved by basic services. In Latin America, for example, it is estimated that around 50 per cent of indigenous peoples reside in isolated rural regions with limited access to basic services or infrastructure. In addition, other barriers to accessing these services occur due to discrimination as a result of cultural norms, stereotypes, language and related factors.
Health care, which can help prevent high absenteeism and low productivity at school and work, is one area where lack of access can undermine development and well-being. An example of this is the ‘San of southern Africa [who] face severe discriminatory attitudes from health workers in ways that impede on both access and quality to health services’. Discrimination can be experienced within communities, too: for instance, in the Great Lakes region of Africa, Batwa men decide if their daughters are sent to school.
Socio-economic inequality can be driven by a vicious cycle across generations. For example, while education can help improve life outcomes, if it cannot be accessed or the experience itself is alienating, then children are likely to find themselves in a similar position to their parents, with limited prospects. This is highlighted by how access to better education is often determined by where one lives, which in turn is linked to a family’s socio-economic background. For example, 27 per cent of African American youth grow up in severely disadvantaged neighbourhoods, compared to around 1 per cent of non-Hispanic White youth, exposing them to ‘a worse education both in terms of fewer years of schooling and poorer quality of schooling’ and, in the long term, leading to ‘fewer opportunities for employment and income’.
Moreover, children from poor families are often sent to work, thus missing out on school. In Guatemala, it is estimated that 65 per cent of domestic workers are indigenous girls and adolescents from ‘impoverished families who often send their young female members to towns and cities, where they work an average of 14 hours per day and are often at the risk of physical and psychological abuse’.
Migration too can often be a by-product of socio-economic inequality, highlighting how intersectional inequality is not always static. Millions of people migrate each year, both within and beyond borders, predominantly so they can survive and improve their lives. Often the mere process of migration creates new minorities and disadvantages: migrants typically face barriers in accessing services, are frequently able to find work only in the informal sector and face restrictive immigration policies which further entrench divisions in terms of ethnicity, nationality and gender. For example , while ‘20 per cent of European Union natives are at risk of poverty or exclusion, the proportion is 35 per cent among those born outside the European Union’ – a situation that can be further exacerbated by gender discrimination.
Socio-economic inequality is further experienced by minorities and indigenous peoples due to lack of voice and under-representation in the public sphere, with the result that their perspectives, priorities and needs often remain invisible. This, in turn, further hampers their access to resources and opportunities to meet their full potential. For example, in Thailand an estimated 600,000 people belonging to indigenous and minority communities are currently deemed to be stateless, leaving them without the necessary documentation such as birth certificates to access services, exercise their basic civic rights or access credit.
In conclusion, the inequalities experienced by minority and indigenous communities are not only informed by a general lack of resources or local deprivation, but also distinct patterns of discrimination. As a result, conventional poverty reduction measures alone may not be sufficient to address these issues without a more comprehensive programme of policy and social reform that includes, among other areas, recognition of land rights, respect for traditional culture and targeted investments in basic services such as health and education for minority and indigenous communities.
Photo: Indigenous people in Bolivia. Credit: Szymon Kochański.
by Hanna Hindstrom
Four years ago, a typhoon struck the northern Filipino city of Baguio. The storm ruptured the walls of the city’s mounting garbage dump, sending hundreds of tonnes of urban waste cascading into the streets. The landslide flattened several houses and killed two young children. The tragedy was a wake-up call for Geraldine Cacho, an Igorot woman and rural farmer who first migrated to Baguio to pursue university studies. ‘Why would garbage become a killer? Why would it become an issue?’ she asked herself at the time.
Many Igorot migrants are accustomed to the practice of ayyew – known as sayang in Filipino – an indigenous concept of recycling and reusing all forms of waste. For example, biodegradable waste would be transformed into fertilizers using vermiculture, while plastic bottles and old clothes may be recycled into household containers or rugs.
As residents dump some 300 tonnes of garbage every day, recycling not only offers a source of livelihood to Baguio’s indigenous population but also provides the city with an effective form of waste management. ‘Using ayyew as a culture of managing waste would lessen garbage and help solve the city’s huge garbage problem,’ she says. ‘As an activist organizer, I knew there has to be a way. A mass movement is needed to help solve the problem, if not eliminate it.’
After attending a training programme organized by the NGO Tebtebba, Cacho set up a vermibed in her kitchen. At first she faced resistance from her landlady, who described the compost worms as ‘unsanitary’. She confiscated Cacho’s worms and discarded them in a smelly open-pit garbage dump in her backyard. ‘It was however a blessing because after some weeks, we noticed that the open pit was not smelly anymore, and the neighbours stopped complaining of its stench,’ she says. She then explained to the landlady how vermiculture works and helped her plant onions, eggplants and cabbage in her back garden using compost.
Cacho is now working with the Cordillera Women’s Education and Research Centre (CWEARC) to promote vermiculture practices in Baguio. CWEARC is supporting over 100 indigenous women to establish urban vegetable gardens with the help of recycled waste. The idea is to simultaneously boost the socio-economic status of indigenous women while combatting Baguio’s burgeoning waste problem. The women are all migrants from rural areas who often struggle to earn their living as street vendors or backyard hog raisers. By working as a collective, the women harness another indigenous concept, known as ubbo or mutually beneficial labour.
According to the UN, indigenous migrants make up 60 per cent of the city’s population and more than half of them live in poverty. Indigenous women are particularly marginalized and are usually excluded from discussions about urban planning in Baguio. But now they have a stronger voice in the community. ‘The project increased the capacity of indigenous women on project management, leadership, economic empowerment, and strengthened their organization,’ says Lucille Lumas-i from CWEARC.
Even the government has responded positively to the project. ‘In communities where practitioners were located, there is a decrease in the volume of waste being hauled by the city government,’ added Lumas-i. ‘At the community level, Barangay [ward] officials are very supportive of the project and some have adopted the concept in their community waste management programme.’ Cacho now has a blooming urban garden, studded with ginger, corn, squash and sweet potatoes. It reminds her of her family’s farm in the countryside. ‘The growth was very visible,’ she says, ‘like magic.’
Photo: Igorot father and child in The Philippines. Credit: Woody Wood.
by Farah Mihlar
Minority and indigenous women face a unique set of challenges on account of their gender and community status, a form of intersectional discrimination that is often particularly difficult to address. As neither men within the same identity group or women from the majority community are likely to experience the same barriers, the situation of minority and indigenous women can be especially isolating and difficult to respond to, pushing them further into disadvantage and deprivation.
This discrimination takes many forms and occurs at different levels – within the community, among wider society and at the level of official policy. For instance, it may be institutional: an employer may stipulate certain requirements that favour men and prevent women, particularly those from minorities, from applying for a job. The imposition of a dress code, for example, could specifically prevent women from certain identity groups from applying, such as a Muslim woman who wears a hijab or headscarf. It can also be structural, where state policies, systems and rules work to sideline minority women. Immigration laws in some states can discriminate against particular groups of people, and in many cases they are likely to specifically disadvantage the women in those groups.
Female migrant workers in the Middle East and East Asia face specific forms of gender violence and have no protection in their host countries. Additionally, they are discriminated against based on their national identity and their gender, and are likely to receive lower salaries, trapping them further in cycles of poverty. In Malaysia, while female migrant workers generally are at considerable risk of exploitation, some ethnicities are particularly marginalized. Indonesian maids, for example, are likely to be paid half of what their Filipino counterparts earn due to popular racist stereotypes about them.
Similarly, discriminatory health policies which deny access to services to minority and indigenous communities can affect women in distinct ways. As the Israeli government refuses to recognize a number of Arab Bedouin villages in the Negev, there are virtually no health facilities available to people who live in them. However, in some instances discrimination is not only created by neglect and exclusion but can also be the direct result of state policies specifically targeting women from minority or indigenous communities. In the Czech Republic, the practice of sterilization of Roma women was embedded in communist ideology that sought to target the fertility of women deemed ‘undesirables’ by the state . Though the practice has been declared illegal and is no longer carried out, the fight for compensation for victims has been protracted.
Beyond government policy, intersectional discrimination can also extend to the justice system, preventing minority and indigenous women from seeking redress for human rights violations. While in many countries women face stark inequalities and obstructions when dealing with police or the judiciary, the situation is even more challenging when exacerbated by hierarchies such as caste. In India, for instance, a 2006 survey of 500 Dalit women who had experienced violence found that 40.2 per cent did not attempt to seek any type of legal redress out of fear or communal pressure, another 26.5 per cent were blocked in their attempt to seek redress and a further 17.4 per cent were obstructed from obtaining justice by police. As a result, less than 1 per cent of cases led to the perpetrators being convicted in court.
Intersectional discrimination can also be targeted towards women from certain identity groups. In situations of conflict minority women can be targeted for rape and other forms of sexual violence. Cases of women being targeted for sexual attacks during conflict have been reported from a number of different countries, including Bosnia, Columbia, East Timor, Rwanda, Kosovo and Sri Lanka. Rape and other forms of violence are now internationally recognized as forms of genocide. Prior to attacks, sexualized propaganda can be used, as it was in Rwanda, to incite attacks on minority women. In highly militarized and post-conflict situations, such as Sri Lanka in the immediate aftermath of the armed conflict, minority women continue to be vulnerable to sexual assault and may find themselves forced to engage in sex work to access resources.
A central part of the problem is that, while one aspect of discrimination may be recognized and steps taken to alleviate its effects, the other dimension may be overlooked – meaning that the complex issues facing minority women specifically may not be addressed by general gender or community-based interventions. Violence against women, for instance, is generally recognized as a form of gender-based discrimination, but the manner in which minority women may be especially vulnerable is not often noted. In Uganda’s Batwa community, women are targeted for rape and sexual violence because of a popular belief that having sex with a Batwa women can cure particular types of illness. This particular case of gender-based violence is specific to the identity of the woman.
Trafficking in women, while generally studied and dealt with through the lens of gender discrimination, is also often closely tied to minority or indigenous status. Victims from these communities typically face higher levels of poverty and are more likely to be affected by conflict, making them easy targets for traffickers. Similarly, while immigration laws and national security legislation are frequently discussed in terms of racial, ethnic or religious discrimination, the gender dimensions of these policies can also be very significant. While stop and search operations can be seen as discriminatory towards certain identity groups, women who wear a headscarf or other visible signs of their identity can be more readily targeted and subjected to other forms of abuse, such as sexual assault, while these are carried out.
The failure to understand this form of intersectionality is a major barrier to the development of effective solutions for minority and indigenous women. Part of the challenge in dealing with this issue at the state and international levels is that there is a dearth of information on the extent of the problem, with little in the way of disaggregated data. Furthermore, stigmatization of minority women also works to obscure, and even reinforce, discrimination. In the British media, for instance, Muslim women are frequently portrayed as being oppressed and ‘helpless’ victims of patriarchal repression. Yet the fallout from this simplistic representation is often increased hostility towards the Muslim community, with women bearing the brunt of these attacks.
Changes to laws and policy, and the strict implementation of existing anti-discrimination legislation is essential to combat intersectional discrimination. This requires political will, social awareness and education, among other factors. To address these issues properly, however, there must also be a much better understanding of the many ways that different aspects of intersectionality affect the everyday lives of minority women. The effects of intersectional discrimination can be complex and long-standing, and addressing these issues often requires a holistic, far-reaching response.
For example, though retention in education from primary to secondary level is generally low among pastoralist communities in East Africa, girls within this group are even less likely to stay in school. While pastoralist boys may have to leave education for various reasons, girls in the community face added challenges that further narrow their chances of a full education. Besides early marriage, girls may also be taken out of school because the distance to travel is too far and it is dangerous for them, or because their education may be seen as less important.
In summary, then, to achieve better outcomes for girls in minority and indigenous communities, a whole range of social and cultural issues need to be addressed. Legislation against intersectional discrimination alone is not always sufficient, and a much more comprehensive framework is needed to respond to the multiple ways in which minority and minority women can be affected by intersectional discrimination. An essential first step to achieve this is a greater understanding of these challenges, and a recognition that conventional anti-discrimination measures may not reach those groups who, like minority and indigenous women, face intersectional forms of discrimination.
Photo: Bedouin woman in Israel. Credit: Farah Mihlar
by Mariah Grant
Ciudad Juárez is a striking example of both the good and the bad that the economic opportunities inherent to urbanization can bring. This city of nearly 1.5 million inhabitants is situated on the Mexico side of the border with the United States, directly opposite its sister-city, El Paso, Texas. Only the parched Rio Grande, contained by concrete channels, divides these two urban centres. It is this strategic location, nestled within a valley surrounded by harsh desert and mountainous terrain, which has allowed Ciudad Juárez to develop rapidly as an epicentre of commerce through the installation of a booming manufacturing industry, known locally as ‘ maquiladoras ’.
Since its foundation, originally under the name of Paso del Norte, by the Spanish Fray Garcia de San Francisco in 1659, the city’s population has been largely made up of Spanish-speaking ethnic mestizos who predominantly practise Roman Catholicism. Today, the majority language, ethnic and religious make-up of the city’s residents remains the same. However, the growth of the maquiladoras over the past three decades, as well as displacement from the land and a decrease in livelihood opportunities in rural areas, has helped drive migration among indigenous communities to the city. This has driven rapid urban growth and led to a diversity of minority groups, with different ethnic, linguistic, cultural and religious backgrounds, living and accessing the formal and informal labour markets that have emerged in Ciudad Juárez.
Yet, as noted, the economic advances that took off in the 1990s in Ciudad Juárez did not lead to improvements only. As the city grew, so too did a large number of slums and along with them higher rates of poverty as well as crime. Additionally, the strategic position of Ciudad Juárez not only attracted manufacturing enterprises but also drug cartels and organized crime syndicates. The explosion of the drug trade within the city and across the border, fostered by widespread police and political corruption, meant that by 2009 Ciudad Juárez had become the ‘murder capital of the world’. In that year, the homicide rate reached 130 for every 100,000 inhabitants and in 2010 the city reached a disturbing record with the highest number of murders – 3,622 – in its history. As a result, the more socially and economically mobile residents left, many seeking refuge across the border in El Paso. The city’s indigenous population, however, was largely left behind. Additionally, during this period of unprecedented violence, women were targeted specifically based on their gender, which became widely identified as femicide.
But while the official homicide rate has since declined dramatically, various human rights and women’s rights groups have argued that official statistics fail to capture the true number of women still murdered and disappeared in Ciudad Juárez. Police investigations into such cases remain inadequate, resulting in impunity for the perpetrators and an unrealistic understanding of the scope of the issue. Furthermore, while the violence that enveloped Ciudad Juárez in the past resulted in higher murder rates among men, these groups state that, despite lower overall homicide levels, women continue to endure high levels of violence, including disappearances, rapes, kidnappings, torture and murder. This particular kind of violence against women, coupled with alleged police indifference and impunity for perpetrators, further substantiates claims of femicide.
For women in general, but also indigenous women in particular who moved to the city in search of economic advancement, it is the job opportunities provided in Ciudad Juárez that are one source of danger. Women and girls make up more than half of maquiladora workers and their commutes to work, often on foot and by public transport, have become infamous sites of brutal violence. According to human rights activists, young indigenous women from different communities throughout Mexico are largely represented but under-reported among those who have been murdered or disappeared en route to work in the maquiladoras since the early 1990s.
Yet not all indigenous peoples nor indigenous women have experienced violence in Ciudad Juárez to the same degree. For the Raramuri people, originally from the Sierra Tarahumara Mountains in Chihuahua, the same state as Ciudad Juárez, the incidence of murders and disappearances, particularly as a result of the drug trade, has been much smaller. The number living within the city has increased steadily since the 1990s and spiked between 2010 and early 2015 with officials estimating a 30 per cent increase in the population, driven in part by poverty and environmental disasters. In 2014 and into the beginning of 2015, for example, an influx of Raramuris into Ciudad Juárez was seen due to the ongoing drought and an exceptionally cold winter.
Activists living and working among the Raramuri community in the city further substantiate that, even during the years of exceptionally high rates of violent crime, Raramuri were not significantly involved either as perpetrators or victims – though the ongoing violence was undoubtedly a constant source of fear. One reason for this was the close-knit nature of the community and its emphasis on good social control mechanisms. For Raramuri women, working predominantly outside the maquiladoras was another factor in the reduced rates of violence perpetrated against them. Overwhelmingly, they work making and selling handicrafts in the streets or at local markets, or begging for ‘ korima ’, or alms, in the city centre. While they face instances of discrimination and influences that disrupt their way of life, they have also found means by which to preserve their linguistic and cultural traditions. Overall, the Raramuri people have proven to be extremely adept at navigating life in a major urban centre with a recent and ongoing violent history.
Nevertheless, challenges remain. According to Rosalinda Guadalajara Reyes, governor of the Tarahumara community, educational attainment continues to be a major hurdle which impedes Raramuri employment opportunities later in life. Finally, the experiences of the Raramuris are seemingly the exception and much more is required to address and stop the violence perpetrated against women, including indigenous women. This means: action by police and state officials to bring perpetrators to justice; ending complicity by management at maquiladoras who do not report cases of missing employees; and ensuring that local rights groups have the safe space to influence behaviour and work towards changing attitudes among men, and society more broadly, so that this violence is not tolerated.
Photo: Raramuri woman and children in Mexico. Credit: Manuel Chávez R.
by Peter Grant
Across the world, lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT) people face discrimination, stigmatization and targeted violence as a result of their sexual orientation or gender identity. However, the challenges faced by those who belong to both a sexual minority and a marginalized ethnic, religious, linguistic or indigenous community are even more complex. These people frequently are confronted not only by a range of prejudices and human rights violations from society at large, but can face ostracization or exclusion from their own communities too.
These unique difficulties, sustained by homophobia, racism and religious hatred, have persisted even in countries where campaigns for LGBT, minority and indigenous peoples’ rights have been waged with some success. And though members of ethnic, religious or linguistic minorities and indigenous peoples may share common histories of oppression, their aims and values have not always been inclusive of those who may be considered ‘the other’ in their midst. Indeed, they may often be in sharp contradiction – a situation that can lead not only to heightened societal discrimination but also exert a deep and lasting psychological toll.
The poverty, invisibility, segregation and violence that characterize the lives of many minorities and indigenous peoples are typically magnified for LGBT people within them. The difficulties of ‘double discrimination’ mean that, even if sections of society have developed more inclusive attitudes to sexual orientation, religious belief or ethnicity, their stance may not be uniformly progressive. Hence the recent example, widely reported in Indian media, of a mother in Mumbai who placed an advert in a local newspaper to identify a potential groom for her gay son. While the advert was celebrated as a milestone for LGBT recognition in India, it was also criticized for stating – despite stipulating that caste was no bar – a preference for a man from the Brahmanic Iyer community. This incident will come as little surprise to many LGBT people belonging to minority or indigenous communities who have found that relatively progressive views on ethnic discrimination, for example, may not necessarily translate to a similar stance on LGBT rights.
The pressures experienced by minority and indigenous LGBT people are not only created by dominant norms and power structures, but are also imposed from within their own communities. In South Africa, for example, the black population – historically the country’s most marginalized population, who still struggle with the legacy of the apartheid era today – is still largely concentrated in unsafe, poorly serviced settlements with high levels of crime and insecurity, especially for women. However, in this context the country’s black lesbian population are particularly vulnerable due to the prevalence of ‘corrective rape’ – a practice commonly inflicted on girls and women suspected to be lesbian. This is despite South Africa having one of the most progressive frameworks for LGBT groups in Africa.
Sexual violence is often used as a way for more powerful members of society to control those they perceive to be beneath them – a situation that places minority and indigenous women at risk of sexual assault or harassment not only from majority men, but also male members of their own community. A similar dynamic can drive sexual abuse against minority or indigenous LGBT people who, already marginalized on account of their ethnicity or religion, have limited access to formal justice or other forms of protection. As one gay Dalit explained to MRG , ‘If somebody is below them they feel happy. Maybe they consider it an honour, that “I have fucked him, now he will be subservient to me all his life, he will not lift his eyes in front of me”… They think, “He is a soft target, he will not tell anyone.”’
Despite the many challenges they experience, minority and indigenous communities have often been able to draw considerable strength from a shared sense of identity. The same is true of LGBT activists who, through effective mobilization and awareness raising, have managed to promote a powerful collective consciousness. Yet for those belonging to both groups, these identities can come into conflict, at times meaning they struggle to be fully accepted by either community. Many are also confronted by the painful decision to ‘choose’ one or the other, with lasting consequences. In the words of one Orthodox American Jew, describing his expulsion following his outing as a homosexual, ‘My community was gone, and my community was my world. It was what had sustained me for years.’
In Europe, while in many countries the long established repression of sexuality has in recent years given way to a more liberal environment for LGBT groups, sections of the Muslim community still view homosexuality as taboo. Nevertheless, some Muslim commentators have also argued that Islam itself is not inherently homophobic, but only certain interpretations of its beliefs. In fact, most religions include interpretations that are hostile to homosexuality, as well as positive examples of tolerance and inclusion, but it is sometimes the case that minority communities adhere to more restrictive applications of their faith due in part to their particular customs or because of pressures arising out of circumstances such as poverty, migration or displacement. Indeed, maintaining these beliefs may be seen by some as a means of protecting their cultural identity from assimilation.
In the US, similar issues are faced by Orthodox American Jews. Gay community members are reportedly excluded on a regular basis due to their sexual orientation, forcing some to even sign up to so-called ‘curing ceremonies’. Among the country’s African American population, too, Christian beliefs within the community are at times contributing to the stigmatization of its LGBT members – despite the historic role of local churches in bolstering the civil rights movement. ‘I have learned that whom we shout out and pray to on Sunday as an oppressed people does not have any relation to whom we damn, discard, and demonize,’ Irene Monroe, an African American activist, has written . ‘The black church is an unabashed and unapologetic oppressor of its LGBT… community.’
In turn, LGBT communities are not themselves immune towards discrimination against certain ethnic or religious communities. For example, African Americans in Chicago have still reported being refused entry to gay night clubs – a commonly reported form of racial discrimination in the US. More generally, LGBT communities may bring together sexual minorities but still fail to include those from religious or ethnic minorities. As one gay African American put it , ‘”gay” meant “white”, and everybody else was kind of visiting.’
Though in many countries progressive measures have been taken to encourage greater minority or indigenous representation through the use of quotas, as well as commit more generally to expanding LGBT representation in the public sphere, there has generally been very little representation by those belonging to both groups. Notwithstanding some inspiring exceptions – such as the groundbreaking election in January 2015 of Madhu Bai Kinnar, a transgender woman and Dalit, as mayor of Raigarh in India – for the most part minority and indigenous LGBT people have been largely sidelined from decision-making. In India, LGBT and Dalit rights groups have tended to operate independently, leaving little opportunity for collaboration or consideration of multiple discrimination . Despite the shared struggle of lower castes and LGBT groups against deep-seated hierarchies, there has been very little in the way of shared mobilization. According to one Dalit lesbian activist , living at the intersection of caste, gender and sexual identity, ‘gay politics in India has not even begun to grapple with caste; Dalit politics remains as homophobic as any other politics; feminism in India is lesbophobic and homophobic and implicitly upper caste.’
These problems are further exacerbated by the added difficulty of having to engage multiple communities, creating considerable difficulties for organizations seeking to navigate a range of beliefs. Groups such as Imaan, a UK-based group that aims to engage LGBT Muslims and their families to explore issues around sexual orientation within Islam, seeks to challenge homophobic attitudes among British Muslims without alienating significant sections of the community, nor inadvertently reinforcing popular stereotypes about Islam among non-Muslims. Nevertheless, LGBT Muslim groups have been able to successfully persuade other community members to reconsider their views on issues such as homosexuality. Recently, for instance, activists launched a public campaign in Whitechapel, an area of London with a large Muslim population, to help promote greater tolerance within the community and persuade mosques to welcome gay Muslim worshippers.
Minority and indigenous LGBT people face a unique struggle that frequently positions them in opposition not only to the prejudices of wider society but also those of their own community. Even among activists, there has often been far too little in the way of engagement between minority or indigenous communities and LGBT groups. Nevertheless, as these barriers begin to lower with a recognition of their shared challenges, LGBT people belonging to minority and indigenous communities may finally begin to receive greater recognition within their own communities and from society at large.
There have also been many inspiring examples of LGBT minority and indigenous activists drawing on their own traditions to combat homophobic and transphobic attitudes, such as the public art created by the Manu Project in New Zealand by indigenous and migrant LGBT youth. And minority and indigenous identity can also provide a powerful platform to mobilize LGBT groups in different areas. The National Queer Asian Pacific Islander Alliance (NQAPIA), for example, has been able to mobilize LGBT people from a diverse range of communities across the US to encourage greater solidarity and collaboration. The NQAPIA’s 2013 National Summit, hosted in Hawai’i, explored indigenous responses to LGBT issues and the impacts of colonialism on the situation today. Indeed, many minority and indigenous communities, recognizing the disastrous legacy that colonialism has had on attitudes towards LGBT people, have been able to find positive models and messages of inclusion from their pre-colonial history.
Photo: LGBT Muslim placards at London Pride 2010. Credit: R/DV/RS.
The Manu Project, jointly conceived by London-based friends and collaborators Lyall Hakaraia and Emma Eastwood, was initiated as a way to encourage queer indigenous and migrant youth to share their views on gender, identity and culture. Through a participatory workshop, in partnership with local partners in New Zealand, the Mika Haka Foundation and Rainbow Youth, the project provided a space for participants to explore and express their own identity through the design of a contemporary bird totem to lead the Auckland Pride Parade in February 2015. The resulting artwork, created through an empowering process of creative collaboration, was a compelling celebration of queer indigenous identity.
The Manu Project encourages queer indigenous and migrant youth in New Zealand to share their views on gender, identity and culture.
by Simran Jeet Singh and Aarti Shyamsunder
In the United States, most efforts to increase diversity, equity, and inclusion focus on race, gender, and sexual orientation. Companies should be aware of caste as a basis of discrimination, too. Caste is a form of social organization and identity in the South Asian context, and it affects more than 1 billion people around the world — and 5.4 million in the United States. Companies should follow these four steps to become more aware of caste as a factor in their own DEI efforts.
This past April, Thenmozhi Soundararajan was scheduled to give a talk about caste to employees at Google News. Soundararajan is a Dalit rights advocate — someone who works against caste-based discrimination against the Dalits, the community that has faced the most historic and ongoing caste oppression in Indian society, where the somewhat rigid and ancient caste hierarchy still prevails. But when some “upper-caste” employees complained that her views on caste were anti-Hindu, a firestorm ensued, ultimately resulting in Google canceling her visit.
The bottom line.
Caste system discrimination occurs when someone is excluded because of their castes’ social standing. Within a system that has such designations, people inherit their caste position through family descent.
In the Hindu caste system, people are put into “varna” and “jati,” social groups within a strict hierarchy, passed down through family lines. Historically, these castes did not intermingle and caste carried the right to practice certain occupations.
These are a form of segregated society, according to human rights activists. They argue that in Africa and Asia, caste is co-terminous with—or has the same meaning as—racism. The bias experienced by those in the caste system can be severe, carrying implications for an individual’s whole life. Tragically, vicious caste violence—especially against women—wreaks havoc and has even caused suicide.
The modern caste system developed in India. Fragmentation of the Mughal Empire led, in the centuries prior to the British Raj, to the increasing popularity of caste archetypes as a way to cement political legitimacy and social status. These drew on ancient Hindu social stratifications that many scholars believe traded on notions of ritual purity and contamination. During British rule, caste became a convenient and useful shorthand for the complexities of the region.
By the time of the India independence movement, attempts to topple caste dynamics had gained ground. In 1950, India’s constitution banned caste discrimination and launched a quota system meant to rectify historical injustices against the lowest castes.
However, many argue that caste discrimination still persists in far-reaching ways to this day.
Caste encourages exclusion, which critics warn produces or worsens inequality for those who find themselves at the bottom of its hierarchy. Within the Indian caste system, occupations were historically inherited. That, combined with social stratification—especially through endogamy, where people only marry within caste distinctions—created a rigid system.
Although perceptions of outright discrimination within India are low, there’s evidence that these rigid social distinctions continue to play a role in contemporary life.
There are stark examples of discrimination, too.
Those in disfavored jatis, particularly in rural areas, have reportedly been forced to sell their children into debt bondage —in places where legislation against the practice isn’t fully imposed—or can find themselves otherwise forced into low-paying work like cleaning waste. Further, the segregation inspired by caste discrimination is linked to worse education, poorer health, and even deficient access to humanitarian relief after disasters.
For someone living within it, a caste system can restrict education, occupation, and the ability to practice one’s religion. It may also hinder whom a person can eat with, live with, or marry. Practically, at the community level, this means caste can fuel inequality, as the system allows for the control of resources by a few castes.
There is a strong gender element to the ramifications of caste as well. For example, women who belong to a “scheduled caste”—one that falls lower in the hierarchy—suffer higher incidents of domestic violence, according to a study in the National Library of Medicine.
The cumulative effect can be brutal, and there have been suicides attributed to the caste system’s effects.
B.R. Ambedkar, an early critic of caste inequality, wanted to reshape Indian society on democratic and egalitarian principles. For him, this meant an “annihilation” of caste, an oppressive hierarchy that led necessarily to inequality by controlling resources and opportunities within a closed system. Ultimately, for Ambedkar, ending caste meant breaking away from the traditional beliefs that justified it, something that would happen through a mix of reforms, laws, education, and marriages between castes.
Ambedkar was instrumental to making caste discrimination illegal in India. He also influenced “reservation,” a form of affirmative action for public jobs written into India’s constitution that seeks to redress caste discrimination.
The reservation system was shifted in 2019 to focus more on economic status than caste designations.
Some researchers and academics have found evidence that caste continues to influence life outcomes, something that was perhaps worsened by the COVID-19 pandemic . For instance, Ashwini Deshpande, a professor of economics at Ashoka University in India, has argued that data from India concerning job losses during the pandemic suggested, from 2019 to 2021, that differences in job losses between castes could not explained by education, industry, or occupation. This data suggests, Deshpande and her co-author wrote, that “caste is not merely a proxy for class, and identity-based policies might be essential to overcoming these disparities.”
Within the caste system, a group known as “Dalits” occupied the lowest rung of the hierarchy. Post-independence, electoral politics have given Dalits a means to relieve some of the ill effects of caste. But many within the country feel that these have insufficiently weakened the impact of caste.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, then, there have been a number of forms of resistance outside of democratic politics.
One example: Discrimination has aroused religious conversion from Hinduism, with which the caste system is popularly affiliated, particularly into both Christianity and Islam.
Violence against Dalits has occasionally inspired more radical political groups, such as the Dalit Panthers, a social and political organization popular in the second half of the 20th century that modeled itself on the Black Panther Party in the United States.
International observers tend to emphasize the role of caste discrimination in furthering inequality.
Human Rights Watch, a nonprofit human rights advocacy group, has called caste “a hidden apartheid of segregation, modern-day slavery, and other extreme forms of discrimination, exploitation, and violence.” Elsewhere, advocates have likened belonging to an “untouchable” jati as suffering a “social disability.”
There are some, such as Rita Izsák-Ndiaye, a former United Nations Special Rapporteur on minority issues, who believe that castes violate international principles of universal human dignity and equality because they subjugate some groups of people below others while fortifying poor socioeconomic circumstances for “lesser” castes.
Recently, Western governments have started to consider legislation that would add caste to legal protections where it would be treated akin to categories like race and sex. The city of Seattle, Washington, passed the first such law outside of Asia in 2023. California’s legislature passed similar legislation that same year, making it the first state to do so. But the bill was vetoed by California Gov. Gavin Newsom in 2023.
Prejudice produced by caste distinctions has become a management concern as well, with notable corporations beginning to address the issue. Alphabet, Amazon, Apple, Dell, and X (formerly Twitter) have policies on caste discrimination.
Diaspora communities have noted that caste discrimination continues to harm their lives, with several legislators in Western countries moving to add caste to the protected lists for their countries. Large corporations have also looked to spell out anti-caste discrimination policies.
Caste can shape someone’s access to resources, as well as access to other opportunities—from what occupations they can work to whom they may marry.
India has a quota-based affirmative action program, usually called “reservations” within the country, that is written into its constitution. The program was intended to alleviate the inequality suffered by disfavored “jatis.” In 2019, the program was altered to reserve resources more broadly for “economically weaker groups.”
Caste system discrimination turns a system of stiff social stratification into meaningful exclusion. For those at the bottom of the caste hierarchy, that can mean facing severe deprivation. This includes poorer outcomes in health, access to fewer resources, and less attractive job opportunities. In extreme cases, such as in rural communities—where proscriptions against caste discrimination are not enforced—this can even mean debt bondage.
United Nations Human Rights, Office of the High Commissioner. “ Report of the Special Rapporteur on Minority Issues .” (Download required.)
Human Rights Watch. “ The Context of Caste Violence .”
David Mosse, via SOAS Digital Collections, University of London. “ The Origins of Caste and the Notion of ‘Untouchability’ .” Creating a Dialogue: Text, Belief and Personal Identity (Valmiki Studies Workshop 2004), February 2004, Pages 6–10 (Pages 18–22 of PDF).
Indian Institute of Legal Studies. “ The New Reservation System .”
Pew Research Center. “ Attitudes About Caste .”
Human Rights Watch. “ ‘Untouchability’ and Segregation .”
Human Rights Watch. “ Caste Discrimination: A Global Concern .”
Sourav Chowdhury et al., via National Center for Biotechnology Information. “ Decomposing the Gap in Intimate Partner Violence Between Scheduled Caste and General Category Women in India: An Analysis of NFHS-5 Data .” SSM—Population Health , Vol. 19 (September 2022).
Ishita Roy, via Sage Journals. “ Caste Environment and the ‘Unthinkability’ of ‘Annihilation of Caste’ .” Contemporary Voice of Dalit (February 2022).
Anup Hiwrale, via Sage Journals. “ Caste: Understanding the Nuances from Ambedkar’s Expositions .” Journal of Social Inclusion Studies , Vol. 6, No. 1 (November 2020), Pages 78–96.
Ashwini Deshpande and Rajesh Ramachandran, via Wiley Online Library. “ Covid-19 and Caste Inequalities in India: The Critical Role of Social Identity in Pandemic-Induced Job Losses .” Applied Economic Perspectives and Policy , Vol. 45, No. 4 (December 2023), Pages 1982–1997.
The Seattle Times. “ Seattle Bans Caste-based Discrimination, Becoming First U.S. City to Do So .”
The New York Times. “ Newsom Vetoes Bill Banning Caste Discrimination .”
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, MIT Sloan Management Review. “ What Managers Everywhere Must Know About Caste .”
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These women, who comprise about 16% of India's female population, face a "triple burden" of gender bias, caste discrimination and economic deprivation. "The Dalit female belongs to the most ...
People walk in front of Wheeler Hall on the University of California campus in Berkeley, Calif., on March 11, 2020. Jeff Chiu—AP. I n late January, California State University added caste to its ...
Finally, although we address South Asian caste discrimination in particular, there are other types of "caste" and ancestry discrimination that occur around the globe. 131 We think that this case study of caste discrimination, and how it may be addressed by Title VII, applies generally. In that spirit, both the executive branch and Congress ...
Government higher education data shows enrollment of students from marginalised communities or low castes - known as schedule castes - in 2019-20 was 14.7% of all students aged 18-23, missing the ...
The Hathras case of Uttar Pradesh like other similar cases of violence against Dalit women unveils the perennial notion of caste discrimination and the abhorrent pattern of state impunity to the perpetrators. These acts of caste discrimination are strongly condemned under international law, to which India has often reflected on quite evasively.
In both, the litigants are members of the oppressed caste Dalits. One case is a discrimination suit filed in June 2020 against the technology conglomerate Cisco Systems Inc. and two supervisors by ...
4. Attitudes about caste. The caste system has existed in some form in India for at least 3,000 years. It is a social hierarchy passed down through families, and it can dictate the professions a person can work in as well as aspects of their social lives, including whom they can marry. While the caste system originally was for Hindus, nearly ...
on, Xenophobia and Related IntoleranceThe Global Conference Against Racism and Caste-based Discrimination was convened in New Delhi, 1-4 March 2001, and included representatives and victims from ...
India's constitution and courts have long recognised lower castes and Dalits as historically disadvantaged groups and offered protections in the form of quotas and anti-discriminatory laws. Now ...
Introduction. Discrimination impacts upon wider determinants of health such as education, employment, income, and housing. 1 Caste is a fundamental determinant of social exclusion and development; indeed, international human rights organizations argue that worldwide more than 260 million individuals experience this exclusion. 2 To understand caste discrimination, it is important to clarify the ...
Toggle Studies on caste in the United States subsection. 2.1 Psychosocial toll. ... Caste discrimination in the United States is a form of discrimination based on the social hierarchy which is determined by a person's birth ... [55] [57] HAF reviewed the case files and alleged that the California department's narrative in the case was "full of ...
It takes as its case study the problem of casteism in the Indian diaspora. The caste system has long been known as a distinctly 'Indian' phenomenon, but Indian migration has arguably made the problem an increasingly global one. ... 51 'Woman Awarded £184k in "First Caste Discrimination" Case' BBC News (22 September 2015) <www.bbc ...
In Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents, the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist examines the laws and practices that created a bipolar caste system in the U.S. — and how the Nazis borrowed from it.
Currently, caste discrimination has become important on the human rights agenda under the guise of 'discrimination based on work and descent' (dwd), and by extension, 'racial dis-crimination'. The main theme of this article is to address the capability of the dwd mechanism to comprehensively capture the intricacies of caste discrimination.
Drawing together case studies from across India, Shah et al. (2018) ... We know from Hoff and Pandey's (2006) experimental studies that caste discrimination produces "stereotype threat" effects; that is, the expectation of negative judgements about worth/ability, and fear of conforming to the stereotype, with impact on self-confidence and ...
Land and caste: A case of Gudiwada village in Telangana state. Economic Affairs, 63(2), 505-513 ... & Jodhka S. S. (2010). Comparative contexts of discrimination: Caste and untouchability in South Asia. Economic and Political Weekly, 45, 99 ... Why Civility Matters in the Study of Caste. Show details Hide details. Sanjay Srivastava and more...
A case reported in 1999 illustrates the toxic mix of gender and caste. A 42-year-old Dalit woman was gang-raped and then burnt alive after she, her husband, and two sons had been held in captivity ...
Caste discrimination affects an estimated 260 million people worldwide, the vast majority living in South Asia. It involves massive violations of civil, political, economic, social and cultural rights. Caste systems divide people into unequal and hierarchical social groups. Those at the bottom are considered 'lesser human beings', 'impure ...
In-depth study association double discrimination: caste and wealth. Kumar 31 (2007), India: Explore the link between SHGs + women's access to health services: Mixed method: survey, interviews, case studies, and focus group discussions: SHGs women (n = 200), family members, community leaders: 84% SC used unlicensed "private doctors," paid ...
The onus falls on the marginalized to protect themselves, to find support and to advocate for their caste-oppressed peers, Thomas said, and those in power largely stand by and do nothing. "Caste ...
Case study: Dalits with disabilities in India. Dalits, long victim to a caste-based system of social hierarchy that regards them as 'untouchables', comprise around 17 per cent of India's total population. While caste-based discrimination was outlawed in 1955, the social phenomenon of…
In the United States, most efforts to increase diversity, equity, and inclusion focus on race, gender, and sexual orientation. Companies should be aware of caste as a basis of discrimination, too.
An exploration of how caste discrimination affects people and the attempts to address it. ... Journal of Social Inclusion Studies, Vol. 6, No. 1 (November 2020), Pages 78-96.
Many conservative proponents claim that discrimination based on caste should be denounced rather than the caste system per se. Recent election results have indicated that caste-based identities prevail in parts of rural India, with these loyalties triumphing over factors like development even seven decades after Independence.