It was around five decades ago that our family migrated to Chitwan from Dhading and settled in Ward 1 of Rapti Municipality. The village is composed of a mix of Bahun, Chhetri, Tamang and Hill Dalit people—in fact, that last group comprises nearly 20 percent of the population, with more than 300 households, of which ours is one. Despite being one of the major constituents in the area, however, Dalit families have long been subject to social, political and economic exclusion.

It’s true that the so-called upper-caste folks no longer discriminate against us in public. We are not barred from entering temples, drinking water from public taps, or generally walking around and using public spaces. It’s also true that Dalits are today far more visible in the political mainstream than we have ever been thanks to the constitutional provision that requires political parties to ensure proportional representation of all communities.

But discrimination still persists—it’s just taken on more subtle, insidious forms. The ill treatment might not be as overt as it once was, but for those of us on the receiving end, it’s hard to ignore.

We have, for instance, user committees in the village tasked with managing educational institutions, forests, water and other resources, and protecting the interests of farmers, among other areas. These committees are very important when it comes to making decisions about community affairs; they have considerable power and resources. But Dalits are seldom given space on them.

In fact, most of the committees are run by upper-caste people, even as the decisions they take directly affect all of us. And so great is their appetite for control that they do not relinquish their grasp on even those committees where their roles are relatively insignificant.

What this means is that despite making up a large share of the local population, Dalits and other groups are excluded from meaningful participation in community matters. This is the case, for example, at a primary school where most of the students come from Dalit, Chepang or Tamang families, but where there is little to no input sought from these communities when it comes to running the school. And it’s the same situation everywhere, whether it has to do with managing forests, cooperatives, or any other areas of public importance.

There has been a significant shift in the manifestation of prejudice against Dalits. Years of raising awareness and pushing for legal protection against caste-based discrimination have certainly discouraged ‘high-caste’ people from looking down on the Dalit community as ‘untouchable’, the way they once did. But true equality is still far from being a reality: we continue to be excluded from most spheres of social life and we are seldom consulted on community issues that affect us, which are as much our concern as anyone’s.

This imbalance in power will continue so long as people’s attitudes and beliefs remain the same, and that can only be altered through well-planned and consistent awareness campaigns on the part of civil society, development partners and the underrepresented and excluded communities themselves. The government, for its part, should follow through on its pledge to ensure the necessary legal framework to promote the social and political representation of these groups. It is only when all these actors come together to collectively push the agenda that the requisite changes will happen—both in social relations and the law.

There also needs to be more effort to empower Dalits, lagging as we do far behind other communities in terms of access to education, health and economic opportunities. Most Dalits in Rapti Municipality, for instance, are poor, struggling to make ends meet, our children forced to drop out of school because we are unable to pay for their textbooks and uniforms. This was what happened to my own kids who couldn’t continue their education after my husband, who had been the sole breadwinner, became bedridden following an accident. I myself had to leave my children behind and go overseas to work and earn, and my eldest had to give up school to take up labor work to support his father and brothers.

My story is testament to the fact that constitutional rights and legal provisions are not enough on their own as long as Dalits cannot meet their basic needs like food and education. Stakeholders therefore need to adopt a holistic approach to the problem: larger policy changes should be accompanied by concrete work on the ground targeting the economic and social empowerment of the community, so as to help them escape this vicious circle of poverty and exclusion once and for all.

Change is also needed in the mentality of the Dalits themselves. Many of us have internalized the prejudices stacked against us by the caste system. We’ve accepted that some people are more equal than others, and do not wish to challenge these supposedly ‘divine laws’ that were created to subjugate us. This is also the result of poor education and lack of awareness about our own rights and capabilities.

However, more and more Dalit parents are now realizing the value of education, and today more Dalit children are entering schools and colleges than ever before—we are seeing increasing numbers of college graduates in our own village. This gives us hope, of one day being able to throw off the shackles of our historical oppression, and of becoming equal citizens and participants in our communities and in this country.

More articles (Development Advocate 2019)