Madhuri Kamtam
Key words: SWAEROES, TSWREIS
SWAEROES: The term SWAEROES was coined by Dr. R.S. Praveen Kumar, IPS, who served as the secretary for the Telangana Social Welfare Residential Educational Institutions Society (TSWREIS) from 2013 to 2021. Students who attend these institutions are referred to as SWAEROES. SW stands for Social Welfare, while Aeroes is the Greek word for sky. The term implies that for swaeroes, “Sky is the limit, to think big and aim high with no reverse gear/no turning back.”
TSWREIS: The state government of Andhra Pradesh established the Telangana Social Welfare Residential Educational Institutions Society (TSWREIS) in 1984 to give children from disadvantaged and oppressed groups, such as SC/ST and other Backward Castes, access to a quality education. After the bifurcation of the Andhra Pradesh state, Telangana was formed as a separate state in 2014. There are currently 268 schools operated by TSWRIES across Telangana, educating more than 150,000 students.
What is it like to be a young Dalit, Swaero, first-generation learner? Do any of the aforementioned identities strike a chord with you? Caste? Class? Gender? Some of the most significant identity forms are extremely relevant to our daily lives. Yes, at some point, all of us came to the painful realisation that our caste identity meant more to the outside world than it did to us. People perceive you based on your caste, class, career achievements, clothing, financial assistance from scholarships, whether you got a job or admission due to your race, etc. These are some of the most critical aspects that characterize social groups, educational settings, workplaces, marriages, relationships, etc. The problem stems from this exact point of view. To permanently eliminate inequality, the caste mentality must be destroyed.
As a young Dalit, Swaero, first-generation learner from a lower-class household—a background shared by many—I believe this piece resonates with the stories of lakhs of children’s (swaeroes) lives and their discovery of caste identities in some way.
I was enrolled in a TSWRS residential school when I was 11 years old due to financial issues at home. I joined the sixth grade at these institutions back in 2010. My parents were convinced that even if I had to leave home, I would receive the best education possible in the social welfare schools free of cost. When I was young, I can still clearly remember how eager I was to join the hostel. I simply knew how to study and perform well in class. Going somewhere new and developing independently excited me. It was quite exhilarating at first, but I found it increasingly difficult to stay. Nevertheless, I stayed because I did not want to burden my parents or put them through financial hardship.
In 2013, I was a ninth grader. At that point, our educational system started to transform. Our secretary, Dr. R.S. Praveen Kumar, IPS, was appointed. By implementing many projects and providing better learning in the classrooms, he revolutionized our schools and gave them a new shape. Numerous attempts have been made since then to improve the schools. Sir coined the term SWAERO, where SW stands for Social Welfare, and Aeroes is the Greek word meaning sky. The term implies that for swaeroes, “The sky is the limit; to think big and aim high with no reverse gear/no turning back.” Yes, that is how we identified ourselves. Isn’t that amazing?
I was a top student who participated in every activity that society organized. Before the age of 17, I hosted five state-level competitions, took part in over fifty programmes, and won about twenty competitions. I was also a state ranker in both my 10th grade and intermediate studies. My understanding of who I am, what my school is like, and the people around me are idealized representations of what life is and what it can be. It was the ideal environment for a child to learn that there are many opportunities in the world for us to seize. However, the recognition has brought with it a great deal of pressure and a constant need for validation. I can now perceive that in terms of my mental health. However, when I was a kid, it didn’t matter.
After college, I had to move to another city to pursue higher studies, a position I also obtained after a series of exams and an interview. I was thrilled to receive a full scholarship (need-based) to attend university. Are you serious? It was a wonderful sensation. As soon as I entered the university, I sensed something unusual. What? Is there no competition? Would the marks of the other people be unknown? What exactly is this? After then, it began to liberate me. I gained a new outlook on life and realized I didn’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations, even those of my teachers and my college’s reputation. It was quite empowering.
Within a few months, I had come to understand from groups of people chatting that scholarship recipients receive different treatment from other peers. What does that imply? Treated better? Inferior? What do you mean? I then began to understand that my caste, (an SC jati), is oppressed, ostracized, and mistreated. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I finally understood the significance of caste, class, and gender in my life at this point. I educated myself on these issues and realized that my forefathers endured tremendous suffering, and that my parents are still dealing with the effects of that suffering now. I am dealing with the ramifications of that as their child as well. That is when I realized why my caste and class identities are so entrenched in this society. My entire existence appeared to be a gigantic lie. It really helped that I was then in an academic environment where I was free to analyze and comprehend the world around me. My realization that I am a Dalit has greatly increased my awareness of caste politics in India and in my daily life.
Now, in my personal life, how can I make friends? Can I be friends with anyone? How do I go out now? Who do I socialize with? Yes, the greatest place to begin is in my classroom. Everyone appeared to be doing well in the classroom. We work on projects together and socialize in the classroom. I would describe myself as someone in the class who engages actively in debates and discussions and even helps other students when I can. Although the individual I hung out with and who took help from me inside of class seemed like a possible buddy, she never showed any sign of concern for me or even said hello when she was with her friends’ group outside. That’s when it occurred to me. Is it because of the clothes I wear, or is it her caste-based mindset? I did start to doubt how I carried myself, thinking it might have something to do with how I looked or spoke.
I eventually began to understand that I belonged to a particular caste, which is why some people don’t want to be my friend. Then it occurred to me. So, some are fully aware of the concept of caste and all the politics around it and still decide to discriminate? Seems problematic and horrendous! At this point, I tried to accept the notion that I was indeed considered an outcast. Given that I did not experience any severe or outright discrimination from anyone, I was at peace with it. Although now that I reflect, I see that there were subtle, unconscious, and indirect forms of bias and discrimination based on caste that I had at the time disregarded and assumed were due to other factors, like my abilities—because you never really know someone’s intentions or can confront them about it. One of the biggest problems with caste discrimination is diagnosing the issue and understanding why that particular incident happened.
I travelled abroad to pursue my master’s degree because, as a 20-year-old woman from a Dalit family of lower social status, I realized that no one could stop me from doing anything if I had my parents’ support. And luckily, I did have my parents’ support, and I am extremely grateful for that. I wondered, why can’t I do what my seniors are doing and study overseas? I tried it out because there were scholarships available. I made it after much anxiety and a protracted wait. It was incredible going to London to do my master’s. Overall, travelling abroad was a positive experience, but once again, I didn’t really make any friends.
The anxiety of being overseas, the fear of the unknown, and the decision to keep my identity a secret from others in case another obstacle arises and I lose the people I have; as a result, I never really talked about it. Although I was surrounded by decent Indian people, I never felt like I belonged because it felt like such an entitled space full of people from the upper class or caste. That’s when I understood what I was afraid of: I was afraid of going away from home and having absolutely no friends. And it was this very dread that made me realize who I was and muster the courage to reveal it. This is because I was feeling constantly guilty for hiding it, like I had done something wrong. I never have! So why be afraid to be yourself? If you reveal who you are and suffer consequences for it, what if your friends desert you? If they do so, do you really consider them your friends? This was a big realization. This question prompted me to start looking for new friends who I can call my people, and vice versa, regardless of their gender, class, or caste.
This is a brief account of my journey in discovering my identity. I had no idea as a child how important it would be to who I would become or be seen as, which makes the story both sad and fortunate. That some people still view you as untouchable is harsh, don’t you think? What’s more, it gives you the ability to create, display talent, and compete on an equal footing with them even without having access to the resources they have access to. As a community, most of us today, being first-generation learners, have no social or cultural capital to begin with. To get where we are today and compete with the rest of the world, we had to work twice as hard or harder than the privileged. To all those, know that as a person, your hard work and your willpower got you here, not your components of identification or any privileges.
After a long journey from ignorance to confusion to fear to anxiety to owning my identity, I proudly identify as a Dalit and will continue to do so.
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Madhuri Kamtam is a Ph.D. candidate in the School of International Development at the University of East Anglia, United Kingdom. Her research interests include caste, gender, labor economics, the political economy of development, and public policy.
