Jane Maathavii

Can you tell me a bit about yourself — where you were born and where you live now?
I was born in Vanni — a place I loved, that no longer exists as it once did. We lived in Chennai, Vadamarachchi, Jaffna City, Kilinochchi, Vadakkachchi, Mulliyawalai, and Puthukkudiyiruppu. We moved often — first because the genocidal Sri Lankan forces attacked or captured our lands, and later, for my studies. Then May 2009 happened. Everything changed. Everyone I knew, everything I had, was taken. Our home — last I heard — is still an army camp.

Now I live elsewhere — somewhere I do not want to name. As a girl who writes about what happened in Vanni, I have learnt not to expect safety. Not as a woman. Not as a Tamil. Not as a writer. ( (I get so many rape threats in my DMs).

Vanni was the only place where women felt safe. The only place. And even that was taken from us.

I hold a PhD in engineering. I love Vanni with everything in me. And — at heart — I’m just a Lilo

What does being Tamil mean to you?

You might be asking the wrong person.

I’m not someone who says, “I’m proud to be Tamil” in the usual, chest-thumping way. But I am deeply grateful for my ancestors — warriors who held to a code. They didn’t attack enemies from behind. They didn’t poison food or water. They didn’t strike the unarmed, the surrendered, or the fallen. They fought with dignity. Everything the Sri Lankan army didn’t do in May 2009.

I try to be a better person — not out of pride, but responsibility. As a Tamil, I want to leave behind a good impression. That’s the least I can do for those who didn’t survive.

My mother believed in collective effort. That’s something I carry with me.

To me, being Tamil isn’t about wearing sarees, going to temples, or learning classical dance. Those things are beautiful, but Tamilness goes deeper. It's one of the oldest surviving identities in the world — a language, a culture, a memory system that predates so much. Protecting that matters.

Ironically, I never swear in Tamil. Every other sentence in English? Probably has a swear word.

 In short, I want everyone to be a better representative of the Tamil race.

How would you describe your connection to Sri Lanka?

I prefer the term Eelam — the Tamil word used in Sangam literature (300 BCE to 300 CE) to refer to this land. The term “Sri Lanka” doesn’t carry my history — it erases it.

I was born there. I lived there for over a decade, through most of my teenage years. But my connection was never with Sri Lanka. It was with the de facto government of Tamil Eelam — the people who protected us, educated us, and gave us something to believe in during the war.

I don’t even feel fully connected to the idea of a “Jaffna Tamil.” I rush to say no! Even if my parents are from Jaffna, I am not a Jaffna Tamil. I am a Vanni Tamil. So I’m not sure how to answer this question in the way it’s usually asked.

What I can say is: I belong to a land that no longer exists on the map. But it exists in me — in memory, language, loss, and the longing for justice.

What led you or your family to leave Sri Lanka?
I left Vanni for my tertiary education. I would have never left that land for anything else.

I didn’t want to attend a Sri Lankan university — I knew I wouldn’t survive it. I would have resisted ragging, protested, fought the system… and likely ended up killed. My mother feared that too.

The plan was simple: study abroad, gain a couple of years of work experience, and then return to build Vanni — our Vanni. But before I could even finish my degree, everything was taken from us.

My family did not leave Vanni. They will never leave the land. Even if the LTTE-controlled area still existed, my family would be there.

What was like to arrive in a new country?

I hated that people didn’t know about climate change or women’s empowerment, among other things. Feminism was ancient in my family. I know how badass my grandmas and great-grandmas from seven generations ago were. These country folks didn’t care much about clean environments or not littering either. Honestly, some of them don’t even shower!

We lived in Vanni with less of everything, but we were more progressive on many issues — thanks in large part to my family and also the LTTE, who taught people about sustainability, forestation, and much more.

I really struggled to digest it all. But university was great — the lectures, the fellow students. It felt like one big, fat family. I loved meeting so many people because my family back home was bigger than the “Big Fat Greek Wedding” family. Most weren’t connected by blood but by love.

I’m also someone who could have a two-hour chat with a random person on a train, so mingling was never a problem. But doing my own chores — washing clothes, cooking meals, cleaning — that was tough. I actually called my mom just to thank her and say sorry for not being a very helpful kid before.

What challenges did you face while settling in?

I think I already answered that in my previous response — haha, classic Jane!

Or maybe I forgot to mention dealing with money. I hated touching cash because back home, my aunt always shopped with me, so I didn’t have to handle money much. Every time I touched it, I would sanitise my hands a lot, fearing I might catch some skin disease. Thanks to bank cards (debit cards), life got a bit easier later on.

Not sure if this will get any backlash, but this is what happened.

What do you remember most about that period of transition?

I missed home a lot. I cried nonstop for a couple of months, even though my aunts and uncles called me every day, day and night. One of my uncles, an IT consultant at IBM, didn’t even know about the calling card and would call me directly — I think his phone bill reached two-digit thousands in a single month! Another uncle’s bill was 35,000 Sri Lankan rupees. They all called and entertained me. When my mom found out about their bills, she told me it wasn’t nice and that I should be a bit stronger. She even joked that I’d better pay them back when I started earning.

I also remember feeling horrible for being a spoilt child back home who didn’t help much around the house. Sure, I kept my room (and book cupboards) clean and helped my mom occasionally — maybe once in a blue moon with sweeping or scraping coconut. But I still feel guilty and angry about it. A part of me says, “It’s okay, you were just a kid.”

At university, I was surrounded by super-rich students — many were children of high commissioners, ministers, and directors. Almost all of them had to shop for themselves and carry heavy bags to the hostel. So, it didn’t feel too challenging because I saw everyone was doing it. Honestly, that was the biggest challenge for us — having to constantly plan grocery store trips, budget carefully, and manage everything on our own.

Do you feel a sense of home where you live now? Why or why not?
My parents’ good deeds have helped me in a big way — I have been lucky to find amazing people wherever I go. While my university friends used to say they were heading back to the hostel, I would say I was heading home. Because to me, wherever I return naturally becomes home.

But if I have to stress on what home truly is — it’s Vanni.

Not having my family around is incredibly hard. It’s been 16 years, and I still miss them every single day. I have to change my pillows often because they have been soaked with tears.

I would do anything to have my family back, even though I know I never will.

Still, the people around me now make me feel deeply loved. My luck has not run out in that area — not yet, at least.

How do you stay connected to Tamil culture or language?

Oh no no no — I am probably the wrong person to ask this question. I love my language, but I would not say I am proud of it in the way people usually mean. I am disgusted when I see how many Tamil men write absolute filth in online comments while claiming to be “proud” of their language. Like I said before, the way I respect Tamil is by never swearing in it. That is where I draw the line.

And when it comes to “culture”, I honestly do not even know what that is supposed to mean. People often ask if I am from Vanni because I sound like a third-generation kid. I am not religious — although I studied *Saiva Samayam* in school, I treated it the same way I treated maths, which was my favourite subject. I read everything — from the *Mahabharatham* to engineering, history, and social issues — even as a little child. I was simply curious about everything. And to this day, I still cannot understand how STEM professionals, industrialists, and people in positions of power — even prime ministers — take a dip in a filthy river just because it is considered holy. Honestly?

My mother did not pass down rituals or traditions. She passed down values. She focused on raising good citizens — people who care about others. She believed in collective effort. When I was ten, she made me teach displaced children. She believed in our duty and responsibilities. She raised us to be empathetic, not judgmental. I could win a Nobel Prize and she might nod politely — but if I helped someone or showed kindness, *that* would make her beam with pride. It is also a disadvantage at times, because I have tried to understand even certified arseholes. I learnt that the hard way.

We were raised to disagree respectfully. To put aside differences and work together for the betterment of the community. That is the culture I grew up with — and to me, *that* is Tamil culture. Or at least, the only kind worth holding on to.

I keep asking people: What exactly is Tamil culture? No one gives me anything beyond clothes, temples, or religious festivals. YAWN!

Have your ideas of “home” changed over time?

Not really. Vanni, with my family, will always be home. Where I live now feels like home, but it never feels complete.

Do you think the younger generation of Tamils connects to the past differently?

Honestly, I don’t think the younger generation connects to the past in the way we might hope. Popular culture has shifted so much—take the massive crowds for the latest Vijay movie in France, for example. I heard the collection was 45,000 euros in a single day or something like that! How come we can’t raise even a fraction of that to help our people in the North?

And when did kuthu paattu and kuthu dance become the main symbols of Tamil culture? Now with rap music, and that too is becoming considered our traditional music! I do not want to start about Eelam Tamil rappers using our cause as a springboard,

People on IG use the word “Eelam” and put the Tamil Eelam map everywhere, which shows the level of understanding we have. Even my generation, Gen Y, struggles to grasp that what happened back home was not just a conflict, but a systematic genocide. Talking about the genocide only on May 18 has become a trend, but it is not a one-day event.

In politics, there is a lot of blind support for any Tamil who talks about tigers or genocide rather than informed choices. It frustrates me to see people with so much access to information still not fully understanding what is at stake.

Honestly, I don’t think they connect to the past, understand the present, or are ready for the future. 

Is there anything you wish people outside the community understood about your experience?

Except for most Sinhalese people, I feel like many outside our community understand our experience to some extent when it comes to the genocide.

What I really wish, though, is that Tamils themselves would be more understanding—and stop relying on ChatGPT or similar tools just to slap on a caption. Last year, for VP’s birthday, many popular university students posted birthday wishes for him—but if you actually read the captions, they were a horror. The AI they used wrote horrible things about him, and they just copy-pasted without checking.

One university society refused to change their stance even after we gave them clear evidence disproving a claim in an article they referenced—that the Tigers sold tobacco. The ego in our Tamil society, especially among men, is frustrating to the max. (Remember from our conversation—I told you, you must be a girl.)

These Eela men worship female LTTE Maaveerar, but then say the most misogynistic things to women online.

I want our community to be better. I want our men to understand the struggles women face and truly support each other. Even if they do not support it, that is okay. Just don’t be a horrible male.

How has displacement shaped your understanding of identity?

You need to read my post about how Vanni shaped us — seriously. If I start answering this here, it will turn into a 1,000-word essay.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C01m_1KxoAS/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

Why did you agree to share your story with this project?

Honestly? It was the way you listened. You were open to changing a word — something so simple, but I could spend weeks, even months, and still not get a guy to listen. Your reply felt like, “Omg, finally — someone who actually listens.”

That made me want to support this project in any way I could. I even shared your links with my followers.

Also, I am not exactly the favourite Tamil girl around here — so I wanted to put myself out there. Representation matters, haha. Girls should not shy away from speaking their mind.

Besides, how many girls do you even find here who lived in Vanni and actually speak about it? Just like we hate Sinhalese people telling us what happened in Vanni, I hate it just as much when some Eelam men try to erase my lived experience or speak over me — as if they know my story better than I do.

What do you hope others take away from hearing it?

Do not parade around Tamil identity while silencing Tamil women, mocking queer people, or spreading hate. That is not defending culture — that is hijacking it.

Ask yourself: What are you really fighting for? Justice for our people — or just a version of power where you get to dominate?

Being an ally is not about slogans. It is about how you treat people — every single day. It is about listening, learning, and showing up. If you truly care about Tamil liberation or the least justice, start by respecting the people in your own community — all of them.

You are not an ally if you are an Andrew Tate fan.
You are not an ally if you are misogynistic, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, Islamophobic, racist — or a bigot of any kind.

You are not an ally of Tamils — or of the LTTE — if you are any of the above.

Is there anything else you’d like to say or add?

OMG, I have a lot to say—maybe a mini thesis or a full-on rant!

Last year, during the LTTE leader’s birthday, I saw university students posting captions copied straight from ChatGPT and other AI tools, calling VP “controversial”. They didn’t even bother to read or fact-check before posting. When we called them out, most just blocked us instead of fixing their mistakes. Newsflash: not everyone who questions you is a hater. So why does this generation have so much damn ego and zero willingness to do the right thing—like actually fixing a caption? Even worse is the TYOs sharing those horribly captioned birthday wishes! Yikes.

AI tools are great, but they learn from us. ChatGPT used to whitewash the truth, but now it admits what happened in Sri Lanka was genocide and that the LTTE protected Tamil people. We can’t blame AI. It’s our responsibility to read and understand.

Queen Mary Tamil Society once posted a slide written by an American author full of half-truths. When we checked with the then-head of Roots (now BTF head), he confirmed LTTE never sold tobacco. But those university guys refused to remove the slide. Instead, they doubled down, claiming LTTE sold tobacco to buy arms—complete and utter bullshit! To defend their lazy ass work, they even made more false claims to damage the LTTE—the very group they claim to worship. Pathetic.

Speaking of respect, the national flag guide clearly says—if I’m not mistaken—the first rule is that the tiger on the flag should not face the pole. Check the reels from the Canadian Tamil genocide monument opening. Half the flag tigers are facing the pole. Jeez, you don’t even know your own damn flag! What a disgrace!

The guide also forbids misusing the flag, yet it’s used as a tablecloth to light candles on Maveerar Day. Are you kidding me?

Even worse: carrying the flag and the leader’s picture at genocide protests. Do those represent genocide? Look at Palestinians—they shared actual genocide footage and reached millions. We don’t carry a single genocide photo at our rallies. Take flags and leader pics elsewhere—like Maveerar Day—not at genocide protests.

Most of you reading this haven’t lost immediate family members. But we have. We want justice, and you are blocking it. Lower the flag on May 18, and every day we rally for justice. Using your brain won’t melt it. Trust me on that!

Don't carry the Tiger flag during protests. Genocide enablers use it to derail justice for Tamil people. They already lie that those killed were terrorists—you are handing them the excuse to distract and distort. Don’t help them. Focus the protest on justice.

And please stop empty slogans like “We will win”, “Free Tamil Eelam” or “Velvathu Uruthi.” What are you actually doing to free Tamil Eelam? To learn the history—at least?

To the younger generation, cut the “We didn’t know” excuses. Hundreds of us have been writing, speaking, and documenting for years—alongside countless books published by the iyakkam. The knowledge is there. So is the responsibility. Step up.

And for god’s sake, listen to people who actually know what they are talking about! You don’t want to do proper research? Fine. But the least you can do is take info from someone who cares about the cause instead of spreading half-baked crap.

The LTTE leader openly stood against caste oppression, yet people fixate on his caste to divert the conversation. It is deliberate—a way to erase his achievements and reduce everything to caste identity. I saw so many Reddit posts, and they are sickening. The obsession is not about justice; it is about distortion. People calling it out are blocked—and that says everything. Sometimes, it’s hard to understand these Tamils. But we can’t give up. We have to keep pushing for the right things.

Adding to this, a German Eelam Tamil has pushed the lie that the LTTE was founded to fight caste oppression—just to secure Western funding. The truth is, the fight against caste and for women's empowerment were byproducts of a larger freedom movement against Sinhala genocide. But he is rewriting history to suit his agenda, and too many follow him blindly out of herd mentality. Our Eelam Tamils don’t stop for a second to question how he is twisting the story—changing the very foundation of the Tamil struggle. This is not just misleading—it is dangerous. We have to speak up and protect the truth of our history.

Just because someone speaks about the genocide or sounds like an LTTE supporter, don’t blindly trust them. There are people who hide as allies but quietly distort the truth. Some use the language of the struggle to build their own platforms, gain funding, or push their own agendas. Stay alert. Supporting the cause means defending its truth—not just echoing the words.

Can we afford to let our history be flattened and justice reduced to hashtags? If you care about our people, start with actual care. And if you still don’t get it—go back and read what I have said. Properly. This time.

And to the misogynistic Eelam Tamil men—it is time to quit being misogynistic. Learn to zip it. Posting degrading memes about women and then pretending you are an LTTE ally is not cute. Women have their own brains—they don’t need you telling them what to wear, what to do, or what to say. Stop fooling yourself, you are not an ally…