
I was born into a dalit family in Delhi and grew up with eight siblings in a modest home in a crowded neighbourhood. My father worked as a low-paid clerk, and my mother, an uneducated woman, toiled hard to run the family. We would often spend our holidays in our grandparents8217; village in Uttar Pradesh. During these trips I became acutely aware of the oppression that the dalits in India faced. When I was in eighth grade, I began noticing that our relatives8217; huts were always in the most neglected and impoverished part of the village. Invariably, the brahmins and upper castes would occupy the best houses and plots of land.
This is so outrageous and unjust, I thought. I knew I was one of them, but in the anonymous city I didn8217;t face such violent discrimination as these poor, illiterate villagers. My heart ached, and I asked my father if I could do something to help. My father told me that without a proper education, I would not be able to do anything to help our people.
So my own education became my priority; education for the weaker sections remains my priority today. I graduated from Delhi University and took a job as a teacher. I was full of energy and enthusiasm. During the day I would work as a teacher, and in the evening I would study law. Soon I acquired a law degree and started preparing for the entrance examinations for the civil service so I could make things happen for the poorer people.
By this time a respected leader named Kanshi Ram had set up an organisation of government employees who are dalits or members of religious minorities He knew very well that dalits must be aware of their rights enshrined in the Indian Constitution. I was already going into various localities to educate poor dalits; Kanshi Ram heard me addressing some meetings and perhaps got impressed. My parents had big dreams of my becoming a top government administrator. But Kanshi Ram told them their daughter had leadership qualities and they should let her join politics so that top bureaucrats would one day take orders from her.
That is when I had to make a big decision. In 1984, I plunged full time into politics. Kanshi Ram, leader of the new Bahujan Samaj Party BSP, or Majority Society Party, took me under his tutelage. My parents were apprehensive, because there were clear dangers to my safety; we were shaking up an old, entrenched social and political order that fattened some and impoverished large masses.
What steeled me in those trying days was the ill-treatment of dalits. I knew that for this condition to change, we had to launch a social revolution 8212; to organise those on the bottom rungs of society to stand up for their rights. As a single woman and a dalit I faced slurs, neglect, insults, even physical threats. Unlike many Indian leaders, I was not handed down political privileges. I had to struggle very hard for every inch of political space I occupy today.
Initially we needed an aggressive approach to rally the poor dalits. Political parties dominated by upper castes got alarmed by the rising masses. Their opposition cut short each of my first four stints as chief minister of Uttar Pradesh. It became clear we needed to broaden our base.
So we organised village-level amity meetings for the poor irrespective of caste or religion. Our efforts were met with calumny, attacks and lawsuits, but we struggled on, and prevailed in elections this May. For the first time in 17 years, a majority government led by a dalit is in place in Uttar Pradesh. Our aim now is to replicate the winning formula in other states and prepare for the bigger struggle to capture power in New Delhi.