Um, what?

How insulting is this:

Hey. Assholes.

RIGHT NOW there are 3HO Sikh Dharma children who are thousands of miles apart from their parents–children who have been separated because Yogi Bhajan told their parents to do it. Told their parents that their "children don't love them". Told their parents that "distance therapy" is a thing. And whose parents put the needs of the cult of Yogi Bhajan and 3HO above the needs of their own children.

There are children who have, who still are, and will continue to experience a profound trauma because of the orders of this man.

A meme doesn't change ANY of this.

Separating children from parents is wrong. Very wrong.

What's happening now–Children being torn from their parents at the US border–might feel all-too personal. It can trigger a lot of unhappy memories.

I have a clear memory of how I felt in my body and in my mind when I was really young and separated from my parents. I remember not feeling, and just being kind of confused and disassociated from reality. And I remember that when I was 'more present', my body and mind were nervous and fidgety. In my first and second years in India, I developed a nervous disorder called Trichotillomania, or compulsive hair pulling. I pulled out all of my eyelashes. Then I got made fun of, so I forced myself to stop so that I wouldn't get made fun of. No adult, teacher, older kid or nurse ever noticed. All I can say about it–in an internal sense–is that I felt like when I was pulling or picking or fidgeting that I was disappearing into an invisibility cloak of my own invention. No one bothered me when I was scrunched up into a little ball minding my own business. And that felt good. Eventually I started to cope with my nervousness through arts and crafts, knitting and needlework– at least as much as I could make time for. Many of us knitted with found yarn and lollipop sticks. Even if it was to knit something, take it out, and start over, that's what we did. So much of our time was spent with these odd, but self-soothing regimens.

Before the camps, the child swapping and the boarding schools, I was actually a confident, happy child. The separation chipped away at my self-esteem and my feeling of security and safety, both emotional and physical. I was able to fake cheerfulness at times, make jokes and laugh, but inside I was deeply insecure. And, gosh, there were so many unsafe situations. Too many to count really. Children getting struck by lighting at Ram Das Puri, Nav Jiwan Kaur falling to her death at Nambé falls, Ong Kar Kaur nearly drowning at Abiquiu, Me and my sister nearly getting killed in a Flash Flood while camping with "guardians"... Then there was the physical abuse, the emotional abuse, the sexual abuse, the neglect and the TOTAL lack of affection.

That last one, that's a major one. Greater than we ever thought. In the absence of it, you don't even know you need it to survive. In the absence of it–the part of you that makes you you–experiences a profound, physical and emotional loss. Your crucial, human sense of self is put at risk.

All of this, while we were supposedly part of a community that believed in love, and in raising the consciousness of the world through compassion, kindness and selfless service. I can't begin to imagine what the children in the I.C.E. detention centers are going through, while under the guardianship of politically motivated, profiteering xenophobes. Okay. Yes, the circumstances for our separation were different than what's happening now, but the resulting affects were no less profound. Separation affects on the mind, body and spirit are traumatic, not matter the circumstance.

Most of us survived and were able to build happy lives for ourselves, and many of us have had the therapy we needed to understand the long-term affects of family separation. This is all the more reason that as survivors we speak up against what our country is doing. We must be there for these children and their parents, in whatever way we can be–financial, political or vocal.

Let me finish with one last thing. I cannot believe, for the life of me, that people in 3HO Sikh Dharma still believe in sending their kids far away to India to attend Miri Piri Academy. It's unfathomable. It's appalling. It's shameful. It's criminal. It's worth noting that 3HO Sikh Dharma profits from the private I.C.E. Detention Centers. Some of the I.C.E. jails contract with Akal Security for the staffing of Corrections Officers. Akal Security is officially owned by 3HO Sikh Dharma, and the some of the profits from Akal Security are used to promote their new-age arm: Kundalini Yoga, White Tantric, Yogi Tea brand tea company, Kundalini Yoga Teacher Training seminars, and their sappy, saccharine music brands like Spirit Voyage and White Sun. This new-age arm puts forward a progressive image, but within its nesting doll structure of for-profit and non-profit entities, 3HO Sikh Dharma as a whole is benefiting from and enriching itself on the horrific policies of our government and the increasing privatization of government functions. There's nothing progressive about that.

There's no deadline for grief

...Meaning, it might take a while.

After years of keeping this blog, I have had the opportunity to speak with a number of ex-classmates, talk to people, and have real conversations about growing up in 3HO Sikh Dharma.

When I do take time out of ordinary life to reconnect or have a conversation, what usually follows is a familiar pattern and string of emotions. First, I experience a little bit of euphoria because I was able to reconnect with an old friend. But after that feeling wears off, I feel exhaustion, thirst and brain-fog. My emotional state is sapped, my thoughts become sort of non-verbal and I don't possess enough brain-power to process my feelings. Then I go through a night (or two) of restless sleep and hypnagogic states of nervous internal dialogue. Still, I go about my day, telling myself This Too Shall Pass.

During this fog-brain state, I will experience a nervous energy and a feeling of true dread. There's a heavy pit in my stomach and a churning pulse in my abdomen, neck and face. My vision starts to feel a little off, glassy sort of. What I am experiencing is a sludgy kind of anxiety, and I have come to recognize as a sign to get myself some self-care.

Even if I get care, sometimes I'll ride the anxiety for a while, trying to process my feelings and sort them out in a coherent way. I might scour the internet for any sign that our story – the un-varnished one, that is – might be getting told by more people. That bit-by-bit we will come forward and speak our truth, discuss our experience, and process it like the fully-aware people that we are (right?).

It's happening now, and I'm hoping more will follow. Sonofasikh is a blog written by one of my schoolmates as he processes his childhood by revisiting the place where it all went down. It's funny, charming and nostalgic. And it is especially poignant. My goodness. His account of being tortured by Nanak Dev Singh–this singular moment among far too many–was nevertheless astonishing and horrifying. And it was heartbreaking. But it was revelatory too, because I found myself able to live inside his experience and fully be a part of it and empathize with it in a way I hadn't done before. I must admit, I had become so familiar with my own family experiences of assault and battery that, well, they just take up more room in my consciousness. This shook me out of that myopia, and for that I am grateful.

But it also made me feel so much sorrow and so much loss.

***

Our experiences as 3HO children were both collective and individual at the same time. We each experienced and remember slightly varying versions of the same kinds of abuse. At the time, our only way of commingling those disparate forms of antagonism was to form a sibling-like bond, and forge ahead as best we could. But we had so little space to experience the full range of emotions that are so crucial in childhood development. Empathy was often sacrificed in our day-to-day coping. So much so, that it became nearly amputated from our lives. And our parents were cut off from it in their own cultic environment too.

Empathy. It's not the same thing as compassion, love, forgiveness or acceptance (all important faculties). Empathy is the ability to validate another person's feelings by acknowledging their experiences, even when you might have a different point of view. People like us–the indiakids–may not be aware that we might lack empathy. It was actively revoked from us, and we were not shown how to demonstrate it to one another. If we have developed it, we have had to take whatever kernel exists inside ourselves and grow it on our own... and probably as adults, and probably in a very flawed and messy way.

I don't really have a way to end this post... I guess I'm still processing.

💗

Can someone regret something even if they've never apologized for their role?

Last week, Dr. Dre issued a public apology to the women he beat up back in the N.W.A. times. While it reeks of PR, it's still a step in the right direction. Perhaps now he can put his money where his mouth is and donate to causes that prevent domestic violence, and to those that help victims of domestic abuse.

And here we are. Looking at domestic violence and physical abuse through the lens of Popular Culture, as if it happens elsewhere. No. Abuse in 3HO Sikh Dharma was (and likely is) right in our own homes, schools and institutions.

Yet, to date, not one adult Guide who was in India while we were in school there has ever come out publicly or apologized publicly. Yes, Nanak Dev is deceased, so it's too late to hear those words from the person who was most abusive. But there were plenty others that were both abusive themselves and/or complicit in not doing anything while kids were being beaten.

I find this to be shameful.

If rappers can do it, why can't they? Maybe it has to do with real regret, as opposed to lip-service regret. Maybe none of them really regret their behavior? Maybe they don't think it was wrong? Maybe they are too fragile? Maybe they struggled to get back on their feet after India that they just needed to re-establish themselves, forgetting about all the young adults that had their own futures ahead of them? Maybe it didn't occur to them that the kids they beat and the kids they watched being beaten will take those involuntary scars with them for a lifetime.

Like Dee Barnes said "I have a souvenir I never wanted".

No one wants those kinds of souvenirs. The people who inflict harm on others are culpable until their victims get justice. Bottom line. There is no other way to have a civilized society.

If our childhood Guides think it's okay to simply go on, holding their heads high against the reality of what they have done, they are wrong. One man has chosen to take it to his grave. Will the rest of them follow suit, or will they do the right thing?

And so, here ends a senseless chapter

Nanak Dev Singh, the notorious tormentor of the 3HO children at G.N.F.C. boarding school, has died. Cause of death was apparently a massive heart attack.

My initial reaction to news of his death was "I hope it was neither quick, nor painless".

But vindication does not come in the act of dying. Nevertheless, there are times when you wish there really is a Hell.

-----------

Realistically though, wishing there was a special place in Hell for child abusers and sociopaths doesn't do anything but give comfort to us, the walking wounded.

But what brings greater satisfaction is knowing that it's too late for redemption. Because redemption is something one must seek in life. If Nanak Dev Singh had made some efforts to reconcile and make things right with those he hurt – ALL of them – he could have had a chance at forgiveness. Instead, he ran away and hid. Furthermore, he re-framed his narrative. He glorified himself. And in doing so he (and his sympathizers too) denied the experiences of all the children he so profoundly affected. The kids that he abused, traumatized, harassed and yes, tortured, were ignored.

Meanwhile, there was a human heart that was, quite literally, hardening.

Don't let YOUR heart harden. Strive for a better life – a life filled with joys big and small, of compassion, of open-mindedness, and even of redemption.

Take solace in knowing that we can be different from them.

Either way, that's one less asshole on the planet.

Indiakids: Are we "Third Culture Kids"?

I was spending time recalling the many boarding schools in Mussoorie (Waverly, Wynberg-Allen, Woodstock, Mussoorie-Modern just to name a few) and came across this term on Wikipedia: "Third Culture Kid"

Third Culture Kids or Trans-Culture Kids, (abbreviated TCKs or 3CKs,) whom are sometimes also called Global Nomads, "refers to someone who, as a child, has spent a significant period of time in one or more culture(s) other than his or her own, thus integrating elements of those cultures and their own birth culture, into a third culture".[1]
Since the term was coined by sociologist Ruth Hill Useem in the 1960s, TCKs have become a heavily studied global subculture. TCKs tend to have more in common with one another, regardless of nationality, than they do with non-TCKs from their own country.

The article is not fully supported by citations, but has a lot of bibliography and footnotes at the bottom of the page.

Do Indiakids fit into the Third Culture Kid population?

Here's an excerpt, that makes some sense, but also reads more as opinion than data:

TCKs are often multilingual and highly accepting of other cultures. Moving from country to country often becomes an easy thing for these individuals.

Many TCKs take years to readjust to their passport countries. They often suffer a reverse culture shock upon their return, and are constantly homesick for their adopted country. Many Third Culture Kids face an identity crisis: they don't know where they come from. It would be typical for a TCK to say that he or she is a citizen of a country but with nothing beyond their passport to define that identification for them. They usually find it difficult to answer the question, "Where are you from?" Compared to their peers who have lived their entire lives in a single culture, TCKs have a globalized culture. Others can have difficulty relating to them. It is hard for TCKs to present themselves as a single cultured person, which makes it hard for others who have not had similar experiences to accept them for who they are. They know bits and pieces of at least two cultures, yet most of them have not fully experienced any one culture making them feel incomplete or left out by other children who have not lived overseas. They often build social networks among themselves and prefer to socialize with other TCKs.

What do you all think? Is this something you think would be helpful in describing your present situation in life, and when describing upbringing? I think the main difference is that we did not have our parents, as many TCK's did have. But, it's important to note that there were the American Embassy kids at Woodstock boarding school in Mussoorie too.

On punishment

We were punished a lot. Even before India, at children's camp, we were often given very unreasonable and bizarre punishments. I'll go into those children's camps again soon... Sometimes I think GNFC was actually a haven from those camps - once we were sent off to school, we didn't have to go to camp anymore.

As I process a jumble of memories from that time, when some of us were as young as six years old, I think of our bizarre, and well, cruel and unusual punishments. The most common corporal punishment for the small children at GNFC was murgha (rooster). Murgha was humiliating - we were often singled out by the teachers, sent to the corner and ordered to crouch down, wrap our arms under our knees and pinch our own ears. There were times that a group of children were ordered tot do murgha - when it became a little easier to bare, but then the matron or teacher would still manage to single a kid out and make him or her perform the punishment for a longer, more unreasonable amount than others. The position cuts off circulation to the legs and head and caused dizziness, headaches, and leg aches. If the kids rear-end wasn't low enough, the teacher would hit it with a cane - more punishment.

What were the provocations that led to murgha? Geez, I can barely remember - I remember it being ordered almost randomly, and because of the tiniest infraction, like being last in line or losing your toothbrush. I was actually a good kid, and like I said in previous posts, I managed to stay under the radar. But I remember having to do murgha all the time! It didn't matter if you were a troublemaker or not - the punishment was across the board and systematic.

Murgha is a tradtional punishment (and when I say traditional, I mean, yes, they still make kids do it!). The most sadistic part is that it really only can be done by small children, who are still flexible and skinny!

So I wonder how this Indian tradition fit in with the ideologies of 3HO. When we told our parents what we had to do, they shrugged it off. They had already used other, perhaps less torturous, yoga poses as punishments, and they were already conditioned to throw us into a cold shower, clothes and all - and they thought those things were okay to do, because Yogi Bhajan said it was and in fact was the one to teach it to them.

All three: Murgha, Yoga as punishment, and cold showers ALL fit under the same umbrella of corporal punishment, and in America corporal punishment is abuse. Perhaps it was more convenient for YB to have us be in a land that hadn't considered that yet.