Insight, Mar '16
Damith Chandimal believes in reclaiming ‘Ponnayā’, a
derogatory term for feminine men and homosexuals in Sinhalese, as a
self-reaffirming identity, not just in relation to one’s sexuality but also in
questioning ethnic, religious and caste rigidities. Excerpts follow from an
article he wrote recently (with editorial support from Kenneth Gunasekera): Giving
up Sinhala Identity and Proudly Embracing Ponnayā as a Self-identity.
What does it mean exactly to give up an ethnic identity? Is it possible to erase one’s ethnic identity? Though it may not be possible to erase one’s ethnic roots, giving up identity could be a political decision and a political statement. Furthermore one does not have a singular identity, but multiple identities, all of which are socially constructed. It is easier to define ourselves within frameworks of these existing identities, especially within identities that are assigned at birth such as gender, ethnicity, caste, and so on. But deviating from, refusing to accept assigned identities, or even criticizing these identities is usually punished, stigmatized and discriminated against in our societies.
I don’t mean to say that I have completely abandoned my
ethnic identity, but this issue came to light upon reception of a Facebook post
I published denouncing my Sinhalese ethnic identity.
The post said: “I am not a Sinhalese. I don’t have an
ethnicity. I am more proud calling myself an outcast than calling myself
Sinhalese. Below is a quote from an article I wrote in 2014 (Teaching Racism through
School Curriculum, My ‘Ala’ Story, Grade Six Story, Parrot Story and Gnanasara
Story):
‘I am a Sinhalese. How do I know I am a Sinhalese? Because
my parents are Sinhalese. How do I know my parents are Sinhalese? Because their
lineage has been Sinhalese. But how can I reduce my background to say that I am
simply Sinhalese? With the surname De Alwis my great grandfathers were
influenced by the Portuguese; further my great grandmothers were married to the
Dutch. No. I am not Sinhalese by lineage.
‘The second argument is as follows: I am Sinhalese because I
speak and write the Sinhala language. I have problems with this argument as
well. I have two friends. One’s father is Tamil. The other’s father is Muslim. Their
fathers have died. The first friend has a Tamil surname and Sinhala name, and
he grew up with his Sinhala mother and her relatives. The latter’s surname and
name are both Muslim and he also grew up with his Sinhala mother and her
relatives. Though they don’t know a word of Tamil, my friends are identified as
Tamil and Muslim, respectively, on their birth certificates. Sinhala-ness is
neither related to our lineage, nor does it relate to our language. It is only
tradition. Even being Tamil and Muslim is solely tradition.’”
The first comment I received for this Facebook post was from
a young man who stated “You, outcast ponna kæriyā. You better eat shit than [write]
this.” Kæriyā is a word considered obscene and insulting. However, it is also
used in the sense of ‘thug’ with connotations of masculinity. Literally kæri
means ‘seminal fluid’. The second comment, from the same person, was a picture
of shit with text stating “Here, eat!”
Before I could respond, one of my friends did: “When you say
ponna kæriyā, isn’t it paradoxical? Then tell me whether you have tasted shit.”
The paradox was evident as ponna connoted a meaning of emasculation while the
term kæriyā connoted a meaning of masculinity and power . . . While I was glad
to see my friend note this paradox, I was interested in the rhetoric of the
violent response my post had evoked from the first respondent.
I first noted his use of the term Ponnayā, a derogatory term
for feminine men and homosexuals in general, often used in the context of hate
speech. Reading into his use of the word, one may wonder if Ponnayās can become
Kæriyās? Are Ponnayās the ones who criticize religion and ethnicity? Are there
Sinhala Ponnayās? Are there Buddhist Ponnayās? This is not the first time that
I have been called Ponnayā by racists . . . Why do I become ponna? What will be
taken away from me when I am ponna? Do I become ponna when I leave my Sinhala
identity? Can I continue being Ponnayā while keeping my Buddhist identity? Does
it mean my sexuality, when the term Ponnayā is stated?
In the middle of the conversation, the young man who called
me “outcast ponna kæriyā” in the first comment left the conversation after
blocking me from his profile. Soon after, a second person joined the
conversation and elaborated the notion of being outcast by relating it to ‘illegitimate
birth’. “Don’t you doubt who made you born to
your mother – whether it was your father or a dog or a mule?” I answered him with
“No. I don’t have such a doubt. Because I believe that human beings can’t make
children by having sex with a dog or a mule. But I don’t think I should
obstruct your imagination of possibility to have a human child born out of a lion-human
relationship.”
According to Mahavamsa epic
story, the Sinhala nation was born from a sexual relationship between a woman
and a lion. In the Facebook conversation with the second person, the lion symbolized
a respected animal and a ‘legitimate birth’, while the dog was used a as a
symbol of inferiority and an ‘illegitimate birth’. Paradoxically the lion lives
away from us in a foreign country, in a forest, while the dog lives amongst us.
Does our understanding of so called culture refers to things which are foreign
and outside of our lives?
I did not become angry with their (the Facebook
respondents’) insulting words against my arguments. Not getting angry could be
a ponna characteristic. Perhaps those who are not ponna become angry. The macho
guys declare wars, start fights. Peace could be a ponna characteristic. I understood
that my critics placed their ethnicity on the ground of Buddhism, so I responded
with a story from the Buddhist texts (Akkosa Sutta: Discourse on Insult, Brahmana Sanyutta, Sanyuktta Nikaya translated from Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu, 1999):
“The Blessed One was staying near Rajagaha in the
Bamboo Grove, the Squirrels' Sanctuary. Then the Brahman Akkosaka
Bharadvaja heard that a Brahman of the Bharadvaja clan had gone forth from the
home life into homelessness in the presence of the Blessed One. Angered and
displeased, he went to the Blessed One and, on arrival, insulted and cursed him
with rude, harsh words. When this was said, the Blessed One said to him: ‘What
do you think, Brahman: Do friends and colleagues, relatives and kinsmen come to
you as guests?’
‘Yes, Master Gotama, sometimes friends and colleagues,
relatives and kinsmen come to me as guests.’
‘And what do you think: Do you serve them with staple and
non-staple foods and delicacies?’
‘Yes, sometimes I serve them with staple and non-staple
foods and delicacies.’
‘And if they don't accept them, to whom do those foods
belong?’
‘If they don't accept them, Master Gotama, those foods are
all mine.’
‘In the same way, Brahman, that with which you have insulted
me, who is not insulting; that with which you have taunted me, who is not
taunting; that with which you have berated me, who is not berating: that I
don't accept from you. It's all yours, Brahman. It's all yours.’
‘Whoever returns insult to one who is insulting, returns
taunts to one who is taunting, returns a berating to one who is berating, is
said to be eating together, sharing company, with that person. But I am neither
eating together nor sharing your company, Brahman. It's all yours. It's all
yours.’”
This comment adds a different dimension to my Ponnayā
identity . . . In his response, the second person on Facebook accused me of
being a ‘radical’, and that I had studied in an art faculty in a university. Does
my Ponnayā identity go together with radicalness and art? I am not the only one
who was recently recognized as “radical Ponnayā”. Filmmaker Chinthana
Dharmadasa who questioned the Buddhist identity of the ancient ‘Buddhist’ King Dutugemunu
in a TV programme was also blamed as ‘radical Ponnayā’ on social media.
This further complicates the meaning of the term Ponnayā. It
is not simply a term related to gender or sexuality. A Ponnayā criticizes the
beliefs of the majority. We should not abandon the term Ponnayā by simply rejecting
it as a violent word. The Ponnayā identity should be embraced proudly.
Ponnayā – an identity to be embraced
In general there is an acceptance that the term Ponnayā is a
derogatory term used in relation to a person with same-sex feelings, or a
feminine man. It is also used in the context of a person with ‘weak or
pusillanimous characteristics’. However, an additional meaning is now emerging
to the term Ponnayā based on its use in the context of hate speech on social
media platforms such as Facebook. According to this emerging new meaning, Ponnayā
can be a radical person who criticizes the way the majority thinks. Looking
more in-depth into this meaning helps us to redefine the term. Hence I would
like to associate the term Ponnayā with an important political sense.
Ponnayā is the one who challenges the hegemony in a system
of existing beliefs and practices. Even if we consider the definition of Ponnayā
relating to sexual minorities, it still challenges the hegemony of heteronormativity.
I am a Ponnayā. I am proud of being a Ponnayā. I understand
the importance of ponna political usage. I question the logic of hypocritical
morality. I understand when replying to Sinhala-Buddhist nationalists, the use
of Buddhism helps to problematize their ego consciousness. Is Buddhism a
knowledge base or a religious identity which could be used only by Sinhala nationalism,
masculinity and heteronormativity?
The use of teachings of Buddha to support racism,
nationalism, violence and hypocritical bonds to ‘culture’ is inherently
non-Buddhist, but Buddhism has been used to support violence, racism and
nationalism in the historical evolution of Sinhala-Buddhist identity in Sri
Lanka. Identity politics of Sinhala-Buddhism strongly contradicts with the
Buddhist scripture. If a Sinhala-Buddhist identity can exist, a Ponnayā-Buddhist
identity can also exist. I suggest that Ponnayā identity is
more harmonious with Buddhism than the Sinhala identity. In Buddhist
understanding, one’s attachment to an ethnicity, caste, varna or family is a
desire which binds one to the cycle of births. When such a desire turns into violence,
can Buddhism further advocate for it in any sense?
Note: Buddhists are a minority in Sri Lanka though the
census statistics may identify the Buddhists as the ‘majority’. No one can be
born into Buddhism. Being born into Buddhism is a product of a colonial
understanding of religion. Ponnayās, too, are a minority in this country.
Nobody can become a Ponnayā by birth. To become a Ponnayā, one must have the courage
to challenge the hegemony.
Damith Chandimal is a human rights defender,
queer activist, writer and social researcher based in Colombo, Sri Lanka. He
works as a consultant to the INFORM Human Rights Documentation Centre on the
protection of human rights defenders and documenting human rights violations. He
is also a student in the Master's Programme in Gender and Women’s Studies at the
University of Colombo.
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