Bullied for being Dalit—reservation alone isn’t a fix for a brewing mental health crisis

India’s existing mental health system lacks a cultural understanding of caste and is insensitive to Dalit experiences. Also, many Dalits don’t have the capital for long-term therapy.

Vaibhav Wankhede

The hegemony of the Indian caste system needs no introduction. It has entered all facets of our daily life. Its enduring impact can be seen on newer generations of Dalits who struggle to break out of it. But there’s a mental toll to pay when society is not a caste-free space. The constant battles to “prove yourself” gets a whole new meaning under the shadow of caste.

The “you are different” narrative begins even before school—from kids asking Dalits about their caste to people giving them a look after hearing their surname. And when they aspire for higher education, Dalits encounter innate barriers that seek to show them ‘their place’. From making fun of their ‘accent’ to emphasising their lack of exposure to ‘popular’ norms, the culture in these universities quickly becomes one of gatekeeping, actively keeping Dalits out. For instance, IITs have become a haven for Indian academics and students who are just preserving their caste-based networks.

In 2021, the education ministry told the Rajya Sabha that 63 per cent of undergraduate students who dropped out of the top seven IITs were from reserved categories. In some of these institutes, the dropout rate of SC/ST students was as high as 72 per cent. Among the IITs, IIT Guwahati, with 88 per cent of dropouts from the reserved categories, was the worst.

IIT Bombay’s Darshan Solanki, who died by suicide, highlighted the caste-based discrimination, social exclusion, and academic pressure faced by reserved category students, which leads to feelings of isolation and despair. The suicides of Solanki, Payal Tadvi, and Rohith Vemula are only the tip of the iceberg, given the role systemic exclusion and oppressive structures play in contributing to mental health crises. What compounds the agony is when the system brushes off these deaths as a result of “academic pressure”.

These institutions are not only in denial of casteism and its impact on students but they have played an active role in invisibilising caste. This turns into ‘learned helplessness’ for many first- and second-generation Dalit students In classrooms, which function as a microcosm of society and where biases are unchecked, Dalit students may internalise a sense of powerlessness, hindering their academic achievement and chipping away at their mental well-being.

Even though mental health is being glamourised by celebrities and social media influencers, it is still a taboo for many Indians, especially if the trauma is induced by deep-seated institutional discrimination. The lack of research on caste and mental health has created a glaring hole when it comes to diversity, equity, and inclusion policies, both in the corporate and educational sectors. Reservation then becomes a much-derided lip service which cannot and will not work without adjustments to the larger picture.

Continued marginalisation

Tired of facing reality, modern Dalits who have anxiety and depression turn to doomscrolling—endlessly scrolling through social media for a dopamine hit—to find relief. But hey, open a news app and there is the regular, now almost daily, fixture of violence against Dalits somewhere. The words ‘Dalit’ and ‘violence’ go together like a lock and key. And if it’s not news about violence, then it’s about social exclusion, discrimination over food and dress, caste-based matrimonial ads, etc. This overwhelming news cycle leads to chronic stress for those already carrying the generational trauma of being powerless.

At work too, Dalits often have to obscure or hide their identity due to the fear of being denied opportunities. This loss of self-esteem and the tendency to internalise a “lowly” status with no outlet to talk about it can lead to long-term consequences.

In a 2020 study titled Caste, Religion, and Mental Health in India, researchers Aashish Gupta and Diane Coffey found that anxiety and depression are higher among Muslims (60 per cent and 51 per cent) and Scheduled Castes (57 per cent and 46 per cent) than dominant Hindu castes (49 per cent and 41 per cent). This highlights the need for research to understand the causes and consequences of mental health disparities in India, and for policies to move beyond redistribution and address discrimination against Scheduled Castes and Muslims.

Recently, in a pre-screening call, a recruiter nonchalantly asked me, “What is your caste?” I was dumbfounded. “Oh, it’s for data and internal purposes only,” she said. I laughed it off because humour is my coping mechanism. But for others who can’t brush it away, it may trigger a spiral into alcoholism, substance abuse or even domestic abuse.

Dalit men, facing constant marginalisation, fall back on the power dynamics within their homes to exert control. This patriarchal structure, present across many cultures, unfortunately, becomes a way to cope with their own powerlessness. This frustration against a discriminatory system is channelled toward women, which manifests as domestic violence. It further marginalises Dalit women who already face societal oppression.

As someone who has witnessed domestic violence first-hand, this is where intergenerational trauma meets gender injustice. Scheduled Caste women experience physical violence at a rate of 41 per cent compared to 26.8 per cent for other women.

The existing mental health system in India often lacks a cultural understanding of caste and is insensitive to Dalit experiences. Also, many Dalits do not have access to capital for long-term therapy.

The silver lining is that some organisations have recognised this gap and work at the intersection of caste and mental health. Harish Sadani’s MAVA (Men Against Violence and Abuse) India is the oldest one. It works toward sensitising young men to gender inequality. There’s also Blue Dawn, which works as a support group and facilitator of mental health services specifically for Bahujans. The WAYVE (Wise Act of Youth Visioning and Engagement) Foundation works to empower Dalit women.

It’s time to promote culturally sensitive campaigns that address the unique challenges faced by Dalits. By fostering a sense of community and empowering Dalit voices, we can dismantle the stigma surrounding mental health.

Vaibhav Wankhede is a creative marketer and writer. Views are personal.

(Edited by Theres Sudeep)

Courtesy : The Print

Note: This news is originally published in theprint.com and was used solely for non-profit/non-commercial purposes exclusively for Human Rights.