On February 6, 2015, an elderly Indian man was left
partially paralyzed following an encounter with the police in Madison, Alabama.
News of the event spread on social media and elsewhere online. When it
became known that a police car had captured video of the incident on its
dashboard camera, an online petition was circulated to exert pressure on the
Madison City Police Department to release the footage. But even before the petition had acquired the threshold
of 1600 signatures it had set itself, the police had made the video public.
Watching the video for the purposes of writing this
article was difficult. At the edge of the screen, one sees Sureshbhai Patel
(57), with his hands behind his back, possibly handcuffed, being thrown to the
ground by officer Eric Parker. Later, when Parker, along with one of the other
officers on the scene, attempts to get Patel to stand up, it becomes apparent
that the “suspect” is unable to, and is literally hauled onto his feet before
sagging back down. Patel, it was discovered, had suffered a neck injury that
would cause him paralysis in some parts of his body.
As the video spread virally, the indignation,
particularly of South Asians, was instantaneous, and rightly so. It would be revealed
that Patel, a citizen of India, had come from that country to help care for his
grandson, born prematurely and, to do so, was living in his son’s home in
Alabama. As more of the story became known, perhaps we likened Patel to members
of our own family. We saw in this grandfather our own parents and grandparents,
those transnationals and migrants who connect our lives between continents. In
fact, I had heard of this case of police brutality from a cousin whose children
my father took care of in Texas. Like Patel, my dad and other relatives like my
aunt and uncle, had come to the States for the function of temporarily helping
out with childcare. And while I appreciate how much coverage the event has
received, there is something about the nature of the conversation around the
incident that leaves me dissatisfied.
This is not an isolated event of police brutality.
To regard it as such runs the risk of reducing it to a sign of South Asian
American exceptionalism. Consider that the police had been alerted by a
resident of the neighborhood who claimed that a “skinny black guy” they had
“never seen … before” was “just wandering around,” and who was estimated to be
in his thirties. That the police would be compelled to respond to such a call
should make one question who and what they wished “to Serve and Protect,” as
the police motto goes. In all likelihood, the call probably originated from a
white household, but what is unmistakable is that the police reacted precisely
because the person being reported was believed to be black. Evidently, it was
unfathomable to, both, the caller and law enforcement that a young black person
should have any business in such a neighborhood.
“This is a good neighborhood. I didn’t expect
anything to happen,” Chirag Patel, the victim’s son told the press, possibly
explaining why he had thought it would have been all right for his father to
walk around in broad daylight as he had become accustomed to doing in their
town. Speaking to The Washington Post for their February 12 report, the younger Patel had said: “It is a dream
for me [to live here] because I came from a very poor family and I worked so hard
… I’m totally devastated that I might have made a big mistake.”
Even as middle class aspirations and immigrant
desires to live the veritable American dream prove to be no protection against
racism, there is no doubt that the Patels – just as anyone living in the United
States – should not have had to feel that the commonplace act of walking out
one’s door would put one’s life at risk due to the commonplaceness of racism.
Nonetheless, it is specifically because of the assurance felt by a community
that is often emblematically deemed the upwardly mobile model minority that
South Asian Americans can believe themselves to be immune to systemic racism.
Moreover, this extends itself to the notion that the police, rather than being
embedded within such systems, are testament to the protection of those who are
considered ideal subjects in the multicultural civil society of the United
States.
To cut to the chase, Sureshbhai Patel, who speaks
very little English and is an Indian farmer who was visiting this country, was
severely injured by a white policeman because Patel was identified as being
black. Following the recent verdicts in the Eric Garner and Michael Brown
cases, where the white policemen who were responsible for the deaths of these
two black men were tried and found not guilty, I would argue that the incident
involving Patel received as much attention as it did because of the growing
inescapability of questions surrounding abuses of power. As crystallized in the
trending hashtag “Black Lives Matter,” these questions center on how racial
difference is perpetuated by such abuses, both by the police and laws that
protect them over minorities.
While Parker was swiftly charged with third degree
assault, the attack on Patel should not be seen as an outlier to forms of
racialized violence that have been manifesting increasingly through the
involvement of the state, be it in the form of the police or even politicians.
Note the lack of irony in Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal’s declaration in a
January radio interview with the Family Research Council’s Washington Watch that the United States was under threat of a
Muslim invasion because immigrants of that faith background “want to use our
freedoms to undermine that freedom in the first place.” An Indian American who
converted to Christianity from Hinduism, Jindal’s opinions are those of the
garden variety Republican, but the danger lies in those views emanating from a
politician of minority racial origins. They serve to obfuscate the very real
threat to the lives of Muslim Americans, such as Deah Barakat, Yusor Abu-Salha, and Razan Abu-Salha, the three young relatives who were executed by a white
gunman in Chapel Hill a week after Parker attacked Patel.
In that South Asian American immigrants are of many
faiths, Jindal’s callous statement, made for political gain, diminishes the post-9/11
Islamophobic violence his own community faces, let alone those other Americans
who so happen to be Muslim. Being deliberately oblivious to xenophobia, coupled
with a sense of insulation that can emanate from being considered a model
minority, especially because one is not black, can easily lull one into being
complacent about institutionalized racism. But are you sure “they” know who you
are when you take a walk around your neighborhood?
From India Currents. The longer version appears as "Walking While Brown While Looking Black" on Media Diversified, and a short piece on the subject appears in The Goan as "To Serve and Protect (Someone Else)."
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