nothing says happy easter like a high-noon stoning

While most Americans were having happy dreams of microwaving marshmallow peeps and Cadbury bunnies laying chocolate eggs, I was getting stoned by the locals. Let me tell you, nothing says "home" like being afraid to walk to the end of the road by yourself on a Sunday afternoon. Nothing says, "I'm a human being just like anyone else," like having fruits and vegetables thrown at you while people who have been seeing you pretty much every day for more than a year make fun of you and call you the local equivalent of names like "honky" and "ghost" and "whitey". And nothing says "Happy Easter" like having a large stone thrown at you while you are walking down the road. Fortunately it "only" hit me on the shoulder, but it hurt and it made me very upset. It was thrown from on top of a building and if it had hit me on the head, then what? When you have stones thrown at you, you get the feeling that you are not being seen as a human being, but something more akin to a dog perhaps. Because people throw stones at dogs, not humans.

I've had things thrown at me here before. Fruits like sapotta and also tubers (surprisingly painful). When kids throw things at me it makes me upset, but when adults do it it really makes you wonder. However, I usually just ignore it and keep going. But today I didn't let it go; I stood my ground. I almost let it go, because what I really wanted to do is run away. But all the constant harassment and objectification I've experienced in this area over the past year really boiled up inside of me, and I felt incredibly upset to be treated this way after living here for so long. Today it was a teenage boy who threw the stone at me. He had excellent aim (unless he was aiming for my head) and should perhaps consider a career as a cricket pitcher (or are they called hurlers?). And let me tell you, he ended up apologizing. The locals were begging me not to call the police. I delivered quite an impassioned speech, if I do say so myself, and was carrying on about how I am not an animal, but a human, and they need to leave me alone while I am walking down the street because I am sick and tired of being intimidated to walk down the street. First it's fruits and vegetables, then stones, and then what? It's time to stand up for myself or else I am going to get run over repeatedly. While I was carrying on, people were remarking: "Wow! She speaks Tamil!" as if I had mistakenly been stoned because people thought I didn't know Tamil (partially true). The angle that seemed to work best in getting sympathy from the huge crowd that gathered for the spectacle was asking folks if it is part of Tamil culture to stone white girls.

The good news is that after one year in Meenakshipuram I have finally stood up for myself and something tells me I won't be stoned henceforth while walking to BB Kulam. Immediately after the incident I ended up meeting some very nice people who took a genuine interest in me. They asked me why I was living in such a horrible part of town. That's a very good question. Let's hope that the next four months are stone free.

Sundays in Meenakshipuram are all about giving thanks to God
for the blessing of the wine shops.