New Delhi—Some say art and politics are separate, but art is based on personal experiences. One's own stories are connected to politics. So, art is like a quiet way of showing how personal things mix with politics. It's like a subtle picture of how our individual stories and the bigger political world are all tied together.

The Mooknayak spoke to Ankur Tangade, a comedian from Beed, Maharashtra, and a queer Dalit artist. Through a conversation, the artist opened up about her experiences and the motivation behind starting 'Blue Material.'

Ankur spoke about her work's history. She said, 'I started comedy at the end of 2018, and until the pandemic, I used to talk about regular stuff that people wanted to hear. I had never seen an Indian comedian do a set on their identity, so I replicated the same. During the pandemic, I decided to try to talk about myself.'

'I avoided that because I felt people would not relate. At first, I tried talking about my queer identity, and fortunately, I realized people were having fun. Even when it was not 'relatable' to many, people still turned up to hear my set. After a time period, a few Dalit comics, including me, decided to form 'Blue Material,' which is an all-Dalit line up performing about the different intricacies that come up with one being a Dalit.'

The artist then went on to talk about how different and difficult it is to work as an artist with multiple identities. She remarked, 'Performing openly as a Dalit artist means losing out on opportunities. Many organizations will not hire you for shows because they feel we will be making a certain type of jokes, and they would not want any 'trouble.' You are only left to do open mics, which are not substantial for career growth. So, we brought the 'Blue Material' gang together to experiment and see where it takes us.'

'I keep saying that I came out as queer before I came out as a Dalit. This is because I started talking about the former part of my life sooner because I thought that would be more accepted by the metropolitan audience. With time, I just had to get out of the societal bindings and started talking about being Dalit, a woman from a small town, and other parts of my identity.' Unfortunately, she has been on the receiving end of casteism.

She revealed, 'During my shows, I have audience members who come up to me and say, 'Oh, it is 2023, and nothing of that sort happens anymore,' and I just laugh in their faces. I once dated this person who directly told me his parents are okay with me dating anyone but a Muslim or a Dalit. I see people excited to hear me, but the moment they listen to my surname, their expression changes. Since childhood, I had this wrong notion in my mind that if I forget the other person’s caste, they will forget my caste too. But as I grew up, I realized no matter what I do, the opposite person will still perceive me with the stereotypes that are attached to my Dalit identity.'

'Because of my material, I am only perceived as per my identity. Organizers deny me spaces thinking I will talk about queerness or caste. On the other hand, very rarely I am provided with a chance to be a part of events just to talk about my identity. I keep saying to everyone that 'Blue-Material,' even though it is an all Dalit lineup, the show is for everyone. Surprisingly, a straight upper-caste show is for everyone, but a Dalit-queer person’s show is not.'

Ankur went on to sternly say, "My grandfather and father have faced discrimination owing to being lower caste. I am too facing the same. I do not owe it to anyone else to sugarcoat my experience so that the other privileged person does not get triggered by what I have gone through. I do not owe sweetness to any upper-caste person."

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