The injustices were all too common.
In one part of India, a vendor’s stall was broken up, depriving him of his
livelihood. In another, members of a poor family were denied government
benefits, forcing them to beg for survival. They were all Dalits, once deemed
untouchable by India’s hierarchical caste system.
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Such episodes have gone largely unnoted and
unaddressed for decades. But both cases were picked up by an online news outlet
that was started two years ago with the mission of covering marginalized groups
in India. Afterward, officials began taking action.
“That’s the impact of giving voice to the
voiceless,” said Meena Kotwal, the outlet’s founder.
Even as members of marginalized groups have
risen to become presidents of India (a largely ceremonial post), the country’s
nearly 300 million Dalits still face widespread mistreatment and violence.
Despite decades of constitutionally enshrined protections and affirmative
action, every year thousands are subjected to crimes, including rape, torture,
acid attacks, and murder.
Meena Kotwal, the founder of The Mooknayak, at the
news outlet’s office in New Delhi on February 28, 2023.
To tell these stories and right these
wrongs, Kotwal, a Dalit herself, started The Mooknayak — or “the leader of the
voiceless”. It is named after a biweekly newspaper founded more than a century
ago by Dr Bhimrao Ambedkar, whom scholars have sometimes compared to Martin
Luther King Jr. He helped draft the nation’s constitution, which enshrined a
formal ban on caste discrimination.
Dalits, who account for about 20 percent of
India’s population, in many cases remain stuck at the lowest rungs of society.
Although India has made large strides in helping the poor, almost one-third of
the Dalit community, or about 100 million people, still live in poverty,
according to the United Nations.
Telling their own storiesKotwal had no business plan for The
Mooknayak, but she knew there were millions who desperately needed their
stories told. She hired Dalits, Indigenous people, and women as reporters,
editors, and video journalists. Publishing articles and videos in Hindi and
English, they aspire to cover everything from individual injustices to policy
debates.
“I want the marginalized community to be
able to say, ‘We have our own media, we report on all kinds of stories, and we
raise issues that haven’t been raised until today,’” said Kotwal, 33.
“I want the marginalized community to be able to say, ‘We have our own media, we report on all kinds of stories, and we raise issues that haven’t been raised until today’.”
The Mooknayak’s audience has grown steadily
and now draws nearly 50,000 unique visitors a month to its website. It runs on
crowdfunding — readers have donated phones, small amounts of money, even a
motorbike — and grants. The Mooknayak has received more than $12,000 from
Google and roughly $6,000 as part of a training program led by YouTube, which
helped fund salaries for a team of 11, as well as to pay for a teleprompter and
office furniture.
Its growing influence allowed Kotwal to nab
an interview with Rahul Gandhi, scion of a once-mighty political dynasty who is
seeking to challenge Modi in next year’s election. Her rising public profile,
though, has also brought her multiple rape and death threats.
The journey of a Dalit womanEven making it this far as a Dalit woman is
a victory in India’s caste-ridden society. Born to manual laborers, Kotwal grew
up in a Dalit neighborhood in New Delhi. Before leaving for school each
morning, she stuffed her notebooks in a jute sack, which she also used as a
seat on the ground. Her family’s meager earnings meant that as a 16-year-old,
she needed to work to pay for both her education and her personal needs.
Meena Kotwal, the founder of The Mooknayak.
Soon, she was pursuing a degree in journalism,
a path where she had few role models from her community, which still faces
rampant employment discrimination.
But her persistence paid off in 2017, when
Kotwal strode across the Italian marble floor of a tower in New Delhi and
started work as a broadcast journalist for the BBC’s Hindi-language service.
The job and its trappings left her and her family in awe. “Do you sit in a
swivel chair? Are you served tea at your seat?” her mother, an illiterate
laborer, asked.
The honeymoon did not last long. A
dominant-caste colleague nudged Kotwal to reveal her own caste, she said, and
then outed her to colleagues. It was the beginning of what she described as
public humiliation and discrimination at work.
Her bosses brushed off her concerns. One
used a refrain often heard from people of dominant castes, telling her that
Dalits no longer existed in modern India, according to messages viewed by the
New York Times — denying not just her complaint, but her community’s very existence.
After two years on the job, she filed an
official complaint with BBC officials in London. The company reviewed her
claims of discrimination, according to an internal document, but ruled that her
grievances were without “merit or substance.” Her contract, due to end soon,
was not renewed.
The newsroom as a nucleus of social
changeDalit journalists at India’s mainstream
newspapers and television stations said that although they felt obliged to hide
their caste identities at work, they were sometimes asked about it during job
interviews. Some said they had experienced forms of discrimination and shunning
— one, for instance, said dominant-caste co-workers refused to eat food he had
touched.
“It’s like carrying this shameful, dirty secret, you know, and you know they’ll never accept you.”
“It’s like carrying this shameful, dirty
secret, you know, and you know they’ll never accept you,” said Yashica Dutt,
author of “Coming Out as Dalit”, who kept her Dalit identity hidden for 10
years as a journalist in India before moving to New York.
On a chilly January afternoon, Kotwal
unrolled the shutters to her new office in New Delhi. She flicked a single
switch and walked past chairs still covered in plastic to a room with a large
wooden desk.
Ambedkar Nagar, where Meena Kotwal, the founder of The
Mooknayak, lives in New Delhi. (Photos: NYTimes)
“Welcome to our newsroom,” said Kotwal, who
envisions her platform as a means to bring social change. “I want someone in a
village to get drinking water, or help get their FIR registered,” she said,
referring to the first information report, a vital but often-daunting step of
lodging a formal police complaint in India.
Soon after losing the BBC job, Kotwal gave
birth to her daughter, Dharaa, now a demanding toddler who travels with her on
reporting trips and scooter rides to her office. Kotwal called her daughter her
biggest inspiration for her work.
“I keep thinking, ‘What will happen to her
as a Dalit woman one day?’ She would ask me, ‘What did you do, Mummy?’”
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