On the surface, the connection between Jaahnavi Kandula and Diana, an Indo Guyanese woman from Queens, may not be obvious, but as two women of color their histories are deeply intertwined, connected by the dark waters of the Kaala Pani.
On May 5, 1838, the Whitby and the Hesperus sailed from Calcutta to Guyana, bringing on board 396 South Asians to supplant the labor force after Afro Caribbean slavery was abolished. On these ships, men outnumbered women. Women were brutally raped and some killed on their journeys and once they arrived at plantations in Guyana.
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Today, many Guyanese people have immigrated to the United States. Little Guyana, located in Queens, NY, is known as the heart of the Guyanese diaspora. Jahajee Sisters, a gender justice organization based in Queens, NY, was formed in 2007 as a response to the killing of Natasha Narine, an Indo Caribbean woman slashed to death by her rapist.
[Read Related: Artist Heidi McKenzie is Unearthing Indo Caribbean History on a Global Scale]
Both the media and the Indo Caribbean community stood quiet as anger and rage grew amongst the organizers of the group. The generational harm that continued to be actively inflicted on our women needed to be stopped. There seemed to be a lack of care for their lives or even their deaths. This event launched Jahejee Sisters’ expansive gender justice work in Queens, yet sixteen years later, they faced the same situation: another woman, Diana, was killed with impunity while the community and the media were silent.
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In the United States, the crime stories that generate nationwide concern overwhelmingly feature white victims. This disparity in coverage has been called out time and again by activists, community organizers, lawyers, and even journalists. There is real harm in this type of reporting, but at the heart of this conversation, it’s about value. How do we, as a nation, value women of color?
I’ve researched the historical treatment of women suffering domestic violence in the U.S. and the numbers are astounding and even more shocking for women of color. According to data from UN Women, one in three women (30.5%) has experienced physical violence since the age of 15, one in four women (23%) has experienced physical or sexual violence by a current or former intimate partner since the age of 15, and one in two women (53%) has experienced sexual harassment in their lifetime. These percentages are estimated to be even higher due to the underreporting of physical harm by women, especially women of color, who, due to systemic injustice and oppression, are made more vulnerable to acts of violence.
Stories of women of color are not only swept under the rug when they experience harm. Historically, accounts of the accomplishments of women of color, although catalyzing and bold, have been missing from our less-than-inclusive textbooks and celebrations of powerful women in history. Today, women of color comprise around 20.3% of the American population, and that number is growing. We make up 57% of the 92% of female domestic workers. We bring incredible value as workers, mothers, and caregivers, and we bring with us generations of strength, resilience and tradition woven into the fabric of this country.
But our value goes beyond what we offer or how we contribute to people and communities. Our value lies in our collective sense of humanity. Simply put, we are humans, and that should be enough for our lives to be equally valued as those of our majority counterparts.
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Without needing to validate this fact, the lives of Jaahnavi Kandula, as well as Diana, and countless other women of color, who were murdered, were valuable. They were valuable to their families, to their communities and to the future we hope to birth. When women are slaughtered without remorse, we rupture the future safety for women and girls in our generation and after. While on the surface, the connection may not be obvious, our futures are deeply intertwined.
