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2/6/2023 Being white in Pune is generally a pleasant experience. Unlike in Japan where whiteness generates a reflex aversion, here whiteness draws admiration or desire. Children’s faces, which are usually easier to read, start with a squinted frown as they make sense of what they see (someone shaped like an older lady but in local clothing) and then as my whiteness becomes the dominant story, there is a smile. Sometimes the smile is small and private, and sometimes delighted, eager. I’ve become less uncomfortable accepting how I’m seen here, although the overt bias towards light skin is disturbing. Wearing wrinkled and somewhat shabby clothes I stopped at a favorite bakery/sweets shop run by Sikhs to buy a bottle of water, and the young man serving me paused frowning to ask in English, “are you Indian?” I answered in Marathi that no, I was American and his face opened in relief as he asked, “and how do you like it here?” I told him I was very happy here and we beamed at each other. Sti