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Indian films and OTTs see money in Dalit stories. But watch out for symbolic violence

Dalit creative diaspora must contend with coerced aesthetic labour to survive in the media and entertainment industry. Unfortunately, their struggle finds no room or narrative support.

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The creators of Amazon Prime Video series Made in Heaven’s second season allegedly copied the “life and words” of Dalit novelist and journalist Yashica Dutt without giving her due credit. The fifth episode of the season, titled ‘The Heart Skipped a Beat’, shows Radhika Apte portraying a character named Pallavi Menke, which Dutt claims is based on her own life and career. The show’s creators have disputed Dutt’s claims, asserting that Menke is a fictional creation. 

The Made in Heaven controversy has shed light on the challenges faced by Dalit journalists and writers. Moreover, it has revealed an unexplored phenomenon: the symbolic violence in media, cinema, and the entertainment industry when they appropriate the stories of marginalised and underrepresented groups, particularly those based on caste experiences

Varna-capitalist aesthetic space and Dalit assertion

Historically, the mainstream media and entertainment industry have not provided a welcoming space for Dalits. Despite enduring efforts and consistent vigilance, several Dalit writers, journalists, filmmakers, and academics have grappled with the structural aesthetics that often misrepresent Dalits and their caste-based suffering. The portrayal of Dalits as downtrodden, pitiable, and disenfranchised has been a predominant depiction of their reality. Made in Heaven was initially seen as a departure from this trend, but it appears that the journey has continued with a peculiar form of friction as evidenced by Yashica’s allegations.

The modern entertainment industry, largely dominated by Brahminical cultural hegemony and intertwined with the interests of movie traders with culturally ambiguous visions, has been selling the lives of the marginalised populations in the Indian marketplace. The question arises: Is this driven by a genuine commitment to social justice, or is it primarily a capitalist necessity to represent marginalised groups and their issues? 

Historically, certain groups, generally represented by the so-called upper castes with well-known demographic characteristics, have exerted cultural and economical control over the Indian entertainment industry. These dominant groups also wield influence over the ideological, representational, social-economic, cultural, and aesthetic standards that shape the entertainment process and products.

Yashica Dutt’s ongoing experiences serves as a poignant illustration of how Dalits are regularly denied the aesthetic space and legitimate ownership they seek in the Indian entertainment business. The so-called upper castes control the media and entertainment industry, dictating which stories are shared, how they are presented, and who reaps financial and cultural benefits. This control can lead to the exclusion of authentic Dalit experiences and the perpetuation of negative stereotypes. 

The struggle for justice, respect, and representation becomes glaringly apparent when examining the integration of Dalit aesthetics and creativity into today’s media and entertainment landscape from various perspectives. This is where Dalits encounter more troubling forms of symbolic violence.

This industry has historically been controlled by certain groups, mostly the upper castes, who have used stories about marginalised groups, such as Dalits, to make money. But we need to ask why they are doing this. Is it out of genuine concern for social justice, or is it merely a means of profiting from the struggles of marginalised people?

The Indian film industry stands out as a prominent arena of upper-caste cultural hegemony. Dalits are frequently denied the right to express their own stories in their own voices, and their experiences are often either misinterpreted or disregarded. This can significantly impact how society perceives Dalits, making it challenging for them to assert their rights and identities. 

To make matters worse, the profit-driven entertainment industry’s symbolic violence has ensnared Dalit aesthetics within the clutches of capitalism and the upper-caste aesthetics rooted in historical cultural hegemony. Even the most shameless oppressors cannot deny the existence of the oppressive varna-caste system and its enduring modified practices.


Also read: OBC lead, Ambedkar & Shivaji books – Marathi film Jayanti is a milestone in anti-caste cinema


Aesthetic labor or Dalit assertion?

In India, the active population demonstrates a strong inclination toward valuing movement-based representations that undoubtedly contribute to the commercial success of any entertainment product. While Yashica’s battle continues, conversely, Tamil cinema has received significant acclaim for its prominent Dalit assertion. This raises questions about the place of Dalit aesthetics within the broader aesthetic landscape of the modern Indian entertainment industry. 

Upon closer examination, it becomes clear that the Dalit creative diaspora must contend with coerced aesthetic labour to survive in the media and entertainment industry. Unfortunately, in mainstream media, this struggle does not find much room or narrative support.

Aesthetic labor involves not only physical effort but also psychological and emotional investments in creating and sustaining specific dispositions to meet the explicit and implicit expectations of mainstream society and institutions. In the entertainment industry, Dalits are often forced to conform to the expectations of upper castes. This can entail portraying themselves in negative or stereotypical ways or suppressing their own identities and experiences. 

This coercion can be seen as a form of exploitation since Dalits are often not given the same opportunities as upper castes to express themselves creatively. Moreover, it can manifest as symbolic violence, where Dalit artists, directors, and writers must subtly portray certain ideologies, stereotypes, and cultural perspectives. This reinforces the coercive dominance of a particular group that wields economic and cultural capital as tools, ultimately leading to the marginalisation or erasure of Dalit experiences and perspectives. 

An example of this complexity is evident in the phenomenon of Buddhist marriage, where a director from a marginalised community is given the opportunity to define the rituals. On the surface, this may seem like an ideal and empowering scenario. However, the outcome on screen is more complex. The overemphasis on the grandeur of the marriage appropriates authentic Buddhist cultural semantics and imposes a modern class aesthetics, resulting in cultural alienation. Not because it creates class consciousness among most of the Dalit population living in economic hardship but also because it defines and asserts a modernist cultural normativity in conjunction with economic inequity. How does displacing the simplicity and purity of rituals in the Buddhist collective affect the historical social and economic trauma of caste-based oppression?

Another instance of symbolic violence takes shape when an upper-caste actress portrays a Dalit iconic character. This form of symbolic violence is more complex in nature, as it raises questions about how the director and creators expect Dalit viewers to culturally connect with a character played by an actress who represents the overrepresented community in the entertainment industry. If Made in Heaven wanted to celebrate an empowering discourse, then Pallavi Menke could have been represented by a more suitable actress who resonated with the character’s cultural, aesthetic, and anthropological identity.

This argument is not aimed at undermining the acting caliber of Radhika Apte but rather to highlight the intertwined forms of symbolic violence in the structural aesthetics of the Indian entertainment industry. While some viewers may not object to Radhika representing Pallavi Menke, arguing that it is merely professional acting, such arguments are superficial and carelessly generalised opinion, mainly because they show a complete lack of understanding of how symbolic power structures permeate from the screen to society. Is Yashica Dutt also lined up to walk that path laid by such symbolic violence in the entertainment industry?

The economic success of films that portray Dalits in an arguably vivid, assertive, and progressive manner has become a new mantra for established profitmakers in the entertainment industry. At the same time, there is a growing political and social movement in India demanding more accurate and realistic representation of Dalits, their marginalisation, and their struggles. These contradictory trends underscore that there is something seriously wrong with the entertainment industry and its aesthetic politics. It not only appropriates the lived experiences of marginalised communities but also adds another layer of coercion. Altogether, while Dalits are making some progress in terms of their stories finding space in mainstream entertainment industry (albeit appropriated), they still contend with cultural victimisation and alienation.


Also read: A Dalit lead who isn’t honour killing or inter-caste love victim. It takes a Neeraj Ghaywan


The two-fold symbolic violence

Symbolic violence, as defined by French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu, pertains to the non-physical tactics used by dominant social groups to impose their values, beliefs, and standards upon subordinate groups. In the context of the media and entertainment industry, symbolic violence involves subtly representing specific ideas, prejudices, and cultural viewpoints that reinforce the dominance of one group while marginalising or denying the experiences and perspectives of others. Yashica Dutt’s current experience represents one of the most challenging form of coercive systemic structural phenomenon, largely overlooked due to the compulsive economic determinism cherished by the modern entertainment industry.

The recognition sought by Yashica is not adequately problematised at the level of screen representation and the subtle cultural nuances ingrained in such practices, as seen when Radhipa Apte played Pallavi Menke. Even if Yashica wins this battle, another dimension of symbolic violence remains in play—one that effectively erases the sense of cultural belonging that marginalised communities should find within their own representations. Screen depictions of marginalised groups and their struggles have been manipulative and should be recognised as a powerful tool that shapes social consciousness.

Even if quantitative representations increase, they will not truly transcend the situation for Dalits until the cultural hegemony in the entertainment industry is deconstructed by the Dalit diaspora through vigilant aesthetics and authentic equitable representation. It is disheartening to witness the never-ending vulnerability of Dalits to symbolic violence perpetuated by the media and entertainment industry.

The creative culture and ethos of the entertainment industry provide it with a bureaucratic advantage, allowing it to deny the existence of the symbolic violence that Dalits continually face. However, a closer examination of how Dalit assertion has been trimmed and tampered with reveals the ongoing historical crisis within the entertainment industry. The cultural hegemonic class that perpetuated and sustained casteism in Indian society still wields significant control over the collective consciousness of the Indian audience regarding Dalit assertions and representations. The ways in which Dalit artists, writers, and journalists confront these forms of symbolic violence will remain an ongoing scenario, given the persistently inequitable representation of Dalits in the entertainment industry.

Govind Dhaske is a socio-cultural theorist. Pratiksha Khandare is an independent researcher. Views are personal.

(Edited by Prashant)

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