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March 03, 2021 - Image 5

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This weekend, the South Asian Awareness

Network hosted their 19th annual conference
“Rising Tides: Pulling Together to Push
Boundaries.” While this year’s virtual setting
looked different from previous round-table
dialogues at the Michigan League, the social
justice awareness organization delivered a
rather engaging program with discussions of
activism, identity and breaking boundaries.

Over the course of three days, the conference

shifted between speaker talks and facilitated
breakout room sessions. Speakers included
Hoda Katebi, Chicago-based organizer and
creative; independent entrepreneur Ankita
Bansal; state Rep. Ranjeev Puri, D-Canton;
author and entrepreneur Suneel Gupta;
entrepreneur and influencer Shivani Bafna;
and Rukmini Vijayakumar, artistic director
and choreographer.

During talks, attendees were encouraged to

engage in the chat with virtual reactions and
comments that each speaker could interact
with, and the virtual breakout sessions during
dialogues offered an easy way for speakers and
moderators to enter rooms and speak directly
to attendees. The stimulating perspectives
of everyone involved made the transition to
Zoom fairly seamless, and is a testament to the
assiduous efforts of the entire SAAN team.

DAY 1: FRIDAY, Hoda Katebi — Keynote

Address

The conference started off with a keynote

address from Chicago-based abolitionist
organizer Hoda Katebi on Friday evening.
Katebi spoke about approaches to abolition
and the inherently political nature of fashion
from her home, with her cat on standby.

As Katebi explained, “fast fashion is

necessary under capitalism,” and “violence
(most
often
gender-based
violence)
is

necessary for fast fashion.” As she took us
through the steps of the global clothing
production cycle and the corresponding

exploitation at each level, she quickly
condemned ethical and sustainable fast
fashion as “fake news.”

Katebi swiftly connected the performative

reformation of fashion companies to that
of the military and its very performative
notions of democracy, alluding to the deep
interconnections of all institutions in which
individual choice is never the sole determining
factor. She called out the perpetuated narrative
of trying to “buy the revolution” through
brands that preach sustainability and instead,
she encouraged what she calls “collaborative
intersectional movement building” which
requires taking a step back and holding the
institutional structures accountable.

As consumers of goods under capitalism

wherein we “(are) not supposed to know what
happens on … production floors,” our power,
she said, lies in our ethos. Consumer power
lies in what we can and cannot control, and
she attests to this with one final sentiment: “I
might use plastic straws, but I’m still trying to
defund the military.”

DAY 2: SATURDAY, Ankita Bansal —

Unapologetic Pursuits: Rise of a Phoenix

On Saturday, Ankita Bansal started off

the first full day of programming with a talk
about her journey from starring in the Netflix
reality TV show “Indian Matchmaking” to
expanding her global denim brand THERE!
with her sister Gayatri. In her first-ever talk
to a university crowd, she opened up about
her failures in the entrepreneurial world and
encouraged all attendees to embrace their
“unapologetic pursuits,” which remained the
central theme throughout her address.

“I wear my failures like a badge,” Bansal

beamed as she told the audience about the
great impact each one of her deterences had
on her career and in her personal life. In one
breakout room dialogue, attendees talked
about how Bansal’s sentiment of embracing
the lessons of failure is often lost in the
pressures of hustle culture.

In picking up many of her insights on the job,

Bansal preached the importance of “bring(ing)

in a personal aspect when growing a brand.”
She talked about the value of community and
the importance of authenticity, saying that
“building a community takes a lot of heart
and soul, not money.” For THERE!, this
meant unique size customizations and open
communication with individual clients.

Alongside her business journey, Bansal

is passionate about cultivating good habits
and daily routines, warning against the lack
of fulfillment from a 24/7 hustle. “When you
start your day with (just) working, it leaves
you in a space where you are not satisfied,” she
said.

With her closing workshop, Bansal

encouraged attendees to pursue a new activity
with a more self-oriented goal in mind for the
next 21 days through a social media challenge
collaboration with SAAN.

Ranjeev Puri — Dichotomy of Activism

within South Asian Generations

Newly-elected state Rep. Ranjeev Puri,

D-Canton spoke about his identity in relation
to politics, the importance of a culturally-
competent campaign and the dangers of the
monolithic South Asian political identity.

As the first person of color to represent

the 21st District of Michigan, Puri walked
through his campaign strategies to effectively
reach older generations of the South Asian
community in the diverse city of Canton
through engagement with ongoing cultural
and religious occasions. He delved into the
inherent politics of “desi dinner parties,” and
he expressed the need for getting those strong
opinions at the dinner table out to the ballots.

Despite his status as the first Sikh-

American in Michigan State Legislature,
he drew a very necessary distinction in his
political identity: “I’m not a South Asian
legislator, I’m a legislator who happens to be
South Asian.” He contended that in resisting
the monolithic South Asian political identity,
the diaspora must lean into the core values of
our identities and experiences to then speak
out to all people.

“To a lot of people,” he stated, “we are just

brown,” but Puri said his rather progressive
agenda got a lot of pushback from older Desi
generations who have anti-Black Lives Matter,
anti-pride and anti-immigrant sentiments.
Puri explained that he understood these
outdated attitudes to be rooted in their own
respective experiences.

Through knowledge of struggle and feat,

older generations of Desis taught younger
ones to be good and do good in the society
they are brought up in, Puri said. However,
he encouraged younger generations to take
charge of the political narratives in the South
Asian diaspora by advocating for those same
values for all people because “the (only) way
we see our community succeed is when we see
all communities succeed.”

Suneel Gupta — Finding Happiness in

Your Work

As the final speaker of Saturday’s program,

entrepreneur and author of his new book
“Backable,” Suneel Gupta highlighted the
difference between career and craft, only
the former of which can be discovered on a
LinkedIn profile.

He discussed a three-word framework for

navigating through purpose and meaning in
life: definition, devotion and detachment. He
spoke about valuing character over reputation,
prioritizing consistency over time and falling
in love with the problem over its solution.

His perspective on finding your Dharma,

or calling, hit home for many of the students
as they continued to self-reflect on attachment
to career-based identities in breakout sessions.
Gupta suggested a familiar failure-embracing
approach to finding happiness in your work,
saying “the opposite of success is not failure,
it’s boredom.”

He concluded with a workshop activity

asking attendees to add something they want
to learn in 2021 to a shared Google Document.
After responses had stopped, he asked everyone
to write their emails next to at least five items
in the growing “To Learn List” that they could
provide guidance for. As email links popped
up next to statements like “I want to learn how

to practice mindfulness” and “I want to learn
how to speak another language,” attendees
felt overwhelmed with how easy it had been
to find guidance and seek out help. Members
expressed their appreciation for the exercise
and Gupta left them with one final push: “Let’s
go do the things that make us feel alive.”

DAY 3: SUNDAY, Shivani Bafna —

Sharing Your Authentic “Why” on Social
Media

As the first speaker for Sunday’s program,

influencer and University of Michigan
alum Shivani Bafna talked about her unique
journey in the entertainment industry and the
role social media plays in it.

Originally a pre-med student, Shivani

completely switched her career path as she
realized what she really wanted to do. Soon
after her graduation from the University
in 2018, Bafna took the leap and moved to
Mumbai, India, to pursue her career within
Bollywood where she entirely immersed
herself into industry work, from modeling to
interviewing to creating social media content.

She turned to her social media platform to

share her journey because as she said, “There
are so many … experiences that we gloss
over that are crucial to our journey.” She
encouraged an awareness for all the steps
that influence the journey — both the good
and the bad. While she agrees that “what we
share on social media is a curated highlight
reel of the best wins of our lives,” she
proposes more vulnerability in storytelling
one’s journey online, sharing the equally
influential failures along the way.

In the technology-driven age of ever-

changing social media trends and followings,
one breakout room dialogue debated the
downsides to “making Instagram casual
again.” Attendees also discussed the pressures
that influencers like Bafna are faced with as
she strives to tell her story and create a more
empathetic space in the online world.

In my sister’s university library in Corpus

Christi, Texas, I sat isolated behind a stack of
books, crying as I lay on the dirty carpet with
my sneakers propped up on the bookshelf
and my headphones in, playing Solange’s
“Cranes in the Sky.” Her music has always felt
like an escape, and this particular moment
culminated into release. For a good hour, I
cried there –– I was reaching a new point in
my life in which I would soon begin college
without an idea of how I would pay for it. It
was the pain of all my fears synthesizing.

The pressure of reality meeting the

pressure of the divine feminine. That is a
Solange song. That is me.

My mamí taught me to be a girl on the run,

like a blood rite. Though I only met her briefly
in the flesh, I learned at a young age to pack my
bags in a night and flee at a moment’s notice.
Fleeing felt like liberation, and “Cranes in the
Sky” sings to the absence of a destination that
I found so iconic to my journey. In her feature
on the “Exploder” podcast, the 34-year-
old Houston native explains these lyrics
and describes her fleeing experiences. She
discusses not only hyperbolically traveling 70
states in the physical form, but also 70 states
of mind — all in search of the feeling of home.
She explains not being able to find a home,
something we can all relate to and embrace.
It is that realization when you hit a certain
age of no return and suddenly home doesn’t
feel like home anymore. That fleeting feeling
of normalcy that you start to encounter as
you become an adult, the result of leaving
what you know for constant new beginnings

— the forever pursuit of the peace that comes
with home. She has a way of humanizing
herself in her songs, and in this one she
grounds herself into artfully exploring the
complexities of being in a million different
places at once, searching and longing for
that comforting feeling of finding peace in
one particular place. In “Cranes in the Sky,”
she sings the lyric, “Don’t you cry, baby,” and
when I first heard this, I was overcome with
a sense of rational comfort –– meant to evoke
feelings of community, the uplifting spirit
of family or friends, all of which can guide
you out of a depression that otherwise can
become seemingly eternal. She explains in
the podcast that this is something she learned
from her mom –– that “on the third day (of
a depression) you get your ass up and you
ride.” Inspired by her mother, the lyrics are
an endearing way of expressing the need to
hold yourself together at times and move on
from your strife. The beautiful harp playing in
this song unites a sense of feminine regalness
and peaceful serenity. Factors that all go into
shaping the song into a beautiful, comforting
tune in which you can find home. The entirety
of Solange’s album A Seat at the Table, which
includes “Cranes in the Sky,” is masterful with
songs that praise Black excellence and power
through artful ballads and interludes. They
provide a tranquil sense of home found in the
here and now.

Solange makes my running feel like my

own personal love story; like a short film on
the dos and don’ts of self-love. Her harmonies
and high notes singing to me, my grace and
giving way to the wings on which I soar. My
chosen background music to the soundtrack
of coming of age. Her music video for “Binz”
does something very similar for me –– the

filmography feels genuine, personal; she
dances playfully in her home to her lyrics.
The video first caught my attention while I
was in Salvador, Bahia, Brazil. The city had
an interesting type of chaos to it. The beaches
often had people covering every inch of the
shore, and streets were lined with dancing
adults and children alike, moving freely and
effortlessly. You might even catch a soccer
match happening down the narrow streets
or walk by as firecrackers are popped at
your feet. It was booming with culture and
excitement, yet for me, it was a lot to take in.
However, chaotic as it was, I still felt this
sense of loneliness as I began to explore
myself in this new place that grew to feel like

a home away from home. I was building a
connection to my spirituality and soul, and
my internship allowed me to feel like my life
was full of meaning and purpose. The work I
did was with youth learning and unlearning
the effects of different kinds of inequality and
sustainable living. However, I was one of the
only Americans in my cohort, which comes
with a lot of weight. I was struggling to balance
the demands of nonprofit work and leisure,
all while maneuvering three languages and
cultures. Not to mention I was over four
thousand miles from home in a land foreign
yet familiar, with its tropical energy reminding
me of Cuba. It was a difficult and interesting
time, and Binz took me somewhere new:

“I just wanna wake up to the suns and Saint

Laurent

Hundred thousand dollars on the fronts

and the blunts

I just wanna wake up on goodbye, only I.”
This song evokes a solitude that feels

peaceful and easy; through it, I learned to find
home in the self. In moments dancing along
the beach coast or swimming at dusk or crying
in the shower on long nights, I found home.
But most of all this song taught me to have a
happy outlook on life. It made living feel a little
easier.

On an internship application I skimmed

over recently, one of the essay prompts asked
me this: “Explain the importance of _____ in
today’s society.” Several words immediately
came to mind. Love, respect, empathy.
Accessibility and accountability. Grassroots
organizing. Healing. Then, grief.

But as I put my pen down, I realized that

perhaps “grief” was not the right word. I
thought about how many of us have faced
more than enough grief to last a lifetime — a
grief stemming not only from loss but also
from silence and injustice. Many have faced
grief spanning months, years and generations
— some even since the birth of our nation.
Some have been born into, and have left, this
world carrying a grief I will never be able to
understand or attest to.

As I revised this sentence, I then reserved

the word “grief” for a more nuanced form:
“grieving.” The word as a verb, as a process,
as a doing unto oneself … To be grieved. To
respond to something that has caused intense
distress and sorrow. To be arrested by a
conviction for action, one which is born of an
anguish that cannot be neglected and should
not be prolonged but must only be resolved.

It grieves me to think about a lot of things.

It grieves me to think about those whom I
may have hurt, however pure my intentions
may have been. It grieves me to think about
the problematic habits of my own Korean-
American
community
that
have
been

normalized. It grieves me to think about the
moments in which I have chosen to assume the
safe role of a bystander rather than be an ally.
It grieves me to think about the often-painful
and still-uncorrected history that I have lived
through and thus, ultimately contributed to
writing.

But are we, the American public and

especially those who lead this nation, grieved?

Does it grieve us to think about our

choice to incarcerate almost 120,000
Japanese Americans in the name of
“military security” in 1942? Does it grieve
us to think about the racial slurs hurled at
these families, the blinds drawn on train
rides to these camps for protection from
onlookers who sought to attack them? Does
it grieve us to think that the Supreme Court
ruled against Fred Korematsu — who
refused to abide by the government’s orders
to relocate to a camp — and still has yet to
officially overturn the decision? Does it
grieve us to think about the racialized fear
and hysteria that we have, and have had,
the capacity to hold?

It may grieve us. But does it grieve us

enough to refuse employing the very same
tactics of anti-Japanese sentiment during
World War II against Muslims and Muslim
Americans today, only rewording the guise of
“military threat” to that of a “national terror
threat?” Did it grieve the Supreme Court who,
despite their repudiation of the Korematsu
ruling, still voted to uphold the analogously
racist Muslim travel ban in 2018?

Does it grieve us to think about what took

place on Jan. 6 of this year? Does it grieve us
to think about a faith in white supremacy so
strong that it would drive a group of people
to scale the walls and smash the windows of
the Capitol? Does it grieve us to think about
those present in the Capitol building, streets of
Washington, D.C. and even onlookers across
the country seized in a moment of intense fear
and vulnerability? Does it grieve us to think
about the threatened democracy of a nation
once, and still, divided?

It may grieve us. But does it grieve us

enough to hold the one responsible for what
took place this day accountable? Did it grieve
Congress enough to impeach Donald Trump
again? Did it grieve Sen. Mitch McConnell,
R-Ky., who, despite his acknowledgement
and condemnation of the former president’s
incitement of the insurrection, still voted to
acquit Trump?

We must be grieved by these traumas

and by a host of others that continue in
scrolls of unspeakable horrors and still-
silenced stories that have yet to surface.
And if we do claim to be grieved by our
wrongdoings, it is difficult to believe that
those in power, who are able to correct
or prevent the very pain they inflict, are
nearly grieved enough. If the darkness of
our nation did, in fact, grieve us, we would
never dare to allow the same patterns of
history to be left unchecked, forgotten and
repeated again.

This is not to say that a vote in an

impeachment trial, or the decision of a
single Supreme Court case, or even the
rewriting of a history textbook can reverse

our collective wrongs and unclench the
hatred that chokes our nation — these
manifestations would only be attempts
at undoing injustice after the fact. This is
not to discount the efforts of those who
evidently have been grieved by such events
— who have fought, marched and organized
tirelessly to create a world in which it is
love, and not a repairing of grieved hurt,
that moves us forward.

But as I witness the unfolding of history

and the precedents that ultimately are
being set by our collective nation, as I read
into the past and look into the future, the
question remains:

Are we grieved, as a nation? Have we

ever been?

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Wednesday, March 3, 2021 — 5

South Asian Awareness Network hosts annual social justice conference

A seat at the table

ANA MARIA SANCHEZ-CASTILLO

MiC Columnist

Design by Eileen Kelly

Read more at
MichiganDaily.com

EASHETA SHAH

MiC Columnist

YOON KIM
MiC Columnist

Design by Janice Lin

Are we grieved?

Read more at
MichiganDaily.com

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