A Lesson from India on Showing Up When it Matters.

What’s Next > What’s Now #10

Twenty-some-odd years ago, I spent two weeks in India on a television commercial shoot for Coca-Cola. It remains one of the most memorable, rewarding, and enjoyable times of my career, and maybe even of my life. The things we saw and experienced, the food we ate, the people we met – well, let’s just say my fascination with the country, and my interest in returning, has never waned.

One experience in particular stands out in my memory, although I’m sure over time many of the details have been lost. I shared it a few years ago on Facebook, back during the Women's Marches in 2016, because I wanted to let my female friends know that I am and would be an ally in their fight.

But I thought it was worth sharing again, as we witness the racial inequality and social upheaval happening in the world around us, and as we make determinations about how we’re each going to show up in these moments. To me, it’s a visceral reminder of the pain experienced by people who are being compromised and marginalized, and an example of how I can support them when they need it most.

We started our filming in New Delhi and after a few days flew to the far western state of Rajasthan. It was a small and nimble team, comprised of 8 people from the British production company @radicalmedia , (including our brilliant Indian director Tarsem Singh), 4 of us from the agency, and 2 young women from a local production company. Deepika and Preeti were both in their 20s, and their role was to scout for talent and locations, negotiate anything we needed with the local agencies and organizations, all-purpose translation, and all manner of general assistance.

On this particular day, maybe 8-10 days into the shoot, I’d become inured to the dozens (and sometimes more) of people milling about in the town of Jodhpur, watching what we were doing. Generally men ranging in age from teens into 60s, they were easy to ignore while we went about doing what we needed to do, and they didn’t bother us.

Why that was different on this day I don’t know, but there seemed to be many loud and obnoxious voices from the crowd, one group in particular. Because the phrases they shouted were in Hindi, the Brits and Americans on our team couldn’t understand what was being said, and when we asked our Indian colleagues to translate, they waved us off, and wouldn’t answer. I assumed it was just general stupid and immature things, and we tried to ignore it, but after repeated requests to be quiet as we were filming, including a personal plea from our Indian director in his native tongue, the comments continued.

And the two young Indian women were getting visibly upset, embarrassed, and angry.

Finally, Deepika stood up and walked over to me, asking calmly if I would come with her. I had no idea where she was going or what she was going to do, but I followed her from where we were filming into the center of the crowd, to one of the particularly loud young men, who as I remember was probably in his late teens. With no preamble as far as I can remember, and no other hesitation whatsoever, Deepika took the young man by the ear and proceeded to slap him across the face multiple times, while speaking to him in Hindi, loudly enough for all around to hear, clearly and publicly berating him for his behavior.

Needless to say, it stunned the crowd into silence. And I quickly realized my role – I didn’t need to “do” anything except be there with her, for her, and to ensure that the crowd knew that I supported what she was doing. I was a bodyguard of sorts, but there was no physical expectation of me other than my presence – I felt helpless, although looking back I probably stood a little taller and puffed up my chest a bit (I felt kindof like John Belushi in “Continental Divide” after Blair Brown runs down two eagle poachers, confiscates their hunting licenses and breaks their shotguns in half, and after she storms off to find a ranger to have them arrested, Belushi is left standing there, out of breath and out of place, and all he can muster with feigned confidence is, “Okay?” Still makes me laugh.).

But I quickly realized the reality - culturally there was very little likelihood that the crowd would do something with a “western” (e.g., white) man present, regardless of how puffed-up I thought my chest was.

When Deepika was done – it didn’t take long – we walked back over to where filming was taking place, and as she was calming down (I imagine the adrenaline was coursing through her), she finally shared with us that sometimes when Indian women travel with western men, there can be a cultural perception that the women are prostitutes.

What the young men had been yelling had been all manner of epithets and slurs, delivered in the coarsest and most vile language.

Ultimately, she had been unwilling and unable to listen to it anymore, and she was also intent on protecting the younger Preeti. After that, and at least for the rest of the time we were there shooting on that day, the crowd remained silent and respectful.

Specific details aside, it is a moment that is etched in my memory. The dignity and strength with which she carried herself, the respect she commanded, her strong desire to defend herself and protect her friend – that, to me, was the essence of true female power. I have met many women throughout my life who have that same power, and I’m proud and pleased to say that many are friends. I couldn’t be happier than to have reconnected with Deepika a few years ago on Facebook (fortunately when I shared this story, she approved, and her memory of the incident matched mine).

So why share the story now?

Well, I’m ashamed to say that for most of my life, just as I couldn’t understand the Hindi being spoken in Jodhpur that day, there’s been a language spoken in my own country that I didn’t know, didn’t speak, and didn’t understand. It’s a language spoken and understood by Black people, by other people of color, and by other marginalized populations. It’s the language of the “non-dominant,” the language spoken by anyone other than straight white men like me.

And over the last few weeks, as I’ve listened and learned, as I’ve spoken to many Black friends and heard their stories, as I’ve watched and read more on racism and the Black experience than probably my whole life combined, one of the critical lessons for me is that I have to start learning that language.

Because I can’t just be in the crowd standing behind them, I need to stand beside them, and also stand in front of them when necessary. I need to show up, to let my voice be heard. I need to be in the ring, and I need to make it “my” fight. And do whatever’s necessary to correct these injustices.

I share the story about my experience with Deepika in India now in part due to my own self-reflection about the theme of the “What’s Next > What’s Now” series I’ve been writing on these past few months, which is an effort I’ve crafted to share my perspective and experiences, ultimately with a mind towards finding my next role.

But I’m certain that if what’s next is really going to be better than what’s now, that can’t just be about helping a brand accelerate into the post-pandemic world any more than it can just be about me getting re-employed.

What’s next will only truly be better if we can find a way to make it better for everyone.

Okay?

My summer is replete with ways that I personally will be making things better, from developing a better understanding of the situation (via reading, watching, listening) to actively participating and contributing (working on two separate mentorship programs right now, hoping at least one comes to fruition). How about yours? Please share in the comments or via DM what you’re doing to help what’s next be better than what’s now. Thanks as always for reading.

PS. In case you’re curious to view one of the TV spots we filmed, you can find it here: Coca-Cola Red Cricket

Haven’t read the whole series? Binge them now with these easy links!

What's Next >What's Now. Part 1 - Intro/Apollo 13

What's Next >What's Now. Part 2 - Breakfast Club

What's Next >What's Now. Part 3 - Apple & Frederick

What's Next > What's Now. Part 4 - Shawshank Redemption

What's Next > What's Now. Part 5 - LL Bean

What's Next > What's Now, Part 6 - Homeostasis & Aron Ralston

What's Next > What's Now, Part 7 - Live Nation

What's Next > What's Now Part 8 - Listening

What's Next > What's Now Part 9 - Jigsaw Puzzle