Thoughts from a Culturally Confused Soul
Chaos. That’s what our hectic lives entail.
We spend our days chaotically moving from one activity to another almost as if we’re on the run. We tell ourselves we’re living and finding ourselves as we embark on crossing things off our daily list- but in all this chaos we lose the very component that helps us understand ourselves: introspection. If quarantine has given me anything, it’s time. Since May was APIA heritage month, I decided to spend some time honestly reflecting on what my culture and heritage means to me.
Representation and diversity have never been more relevant in modern media. Every day new stories about people with varying ethnic identities are churned out and it has been amazing to see, yet I’ve never felt like I’ve gotten a good glimpse of myself on screen. Indian characters were and are portrayed exceedingly stereotypically with thick accents, immigration always on their mind, and Hindu customs always at their core (Please stop this abomination, religiosity is not a personality trait!!!! *coughs* Never Have I Ever).
If not representation, what did I have in my childhood you ask? Well, in addition to the unlimited supply of teen angst and high-pressure environments, I had the job of figuring out how much the word Indian should be emphasized when defining my Indian American self.
I was born in the US to two South Indian parents. When I was young, we moved to Bangalore, India. Bangalore is one of those booming cosmopolitan cities, you know. The IT hub? Exceedingly diverse compared to the rest of the country? Filled with international schools, and Indians who are predominantly Indian Americans who moved back, like my family?
You could say it’s like the Seattle of India.
Looking back, I realized that while I never shied away from my culture, I also never fully embraced my south Indian roots or associated it as a characteristic of mine. Maybe it was the fact that Bangalore had numerous people from around the globe with their own stories, languages, festivals, and customs that I never felt like my South Indian traits could be emphasized or expressed outside of my home.
Just as I was growing older, in the midst of my existential crisis my family moved again. This time to Hyderabad, India. It may not seem like a big deal but in my mind, I could have taken a portal to a parallel universe and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Hyderabad is my native place and so in theory I was going to the place of my people. Here, everyone spoke in Telugu (my native language), Indian mythology was casually discussed and the deep significance behind festivals was general knowledge to the masses. For me, it was a lot to take in all at once because I lived so differently - what the Hyderabadi people would term a ‘westernized lifestyle’ up until then. For so many Indians the American dream is very real and having parents who had come here and found success has led to so many preconceived notions about the kind of person I am ‘supposed’ to be. It hits different when your people tell you that you aren’t them. It’s a crippling feeling that makes way for loads of confusion and adjustments to your self-image.
“It hits different when your people tell you that you aren’t them. ”
Don’t get me wrong, I hold my roots and desi values close to my heart but I’m also not an uberreligious person and having friends from all races and religions growing up, I had a different understanding of what my culture was. I felt disconnected from everyone and this bred a feeling of guilt. Maybe it was my fault for not knowing more or trying harder to connect with these Indians. Maybe I should just learn their slang, make Telugu my first language instead of English, and stop bringing up things like Hollywood gossip when they’re clearly not interested. Maybe I wasn’t as cultured as I initially thought.
Moving back to the US with my family over a year ago scared me. Scared me for all the reasons you’d expect. Independence, college, figuring out what you want to do in this world etc. But more than anything it scared me because it felt like I was leaving a part of me behind while running towards a completely different part at the same time. I don’t want to be the American cousin who is oblivious to anything Indian or the FOB trying to grasp some semblance of what it’s like to live in this country. The people I’ve met from around the world, their stories, their cultures always seemed to be so clear cut. They’re so together and confident about themselves and their cultural identity while sometimes I feel like I’m drifting.
What I realized was that I was grouped in a bucket of “Indian” when really there are so many kinds. Living outside of India, in India, within different states, all of these factors and their environments mattered in order for me to understand my identity. You can’t compress all of this into one label. I’ve been told I was “too American” for Indians born and raised in India and “too Indian” for the ones born and raised here, in America. I don’t know why but humans tend to create two unambiguous categories for labeling everything. You’re a FOB or you’re whitewashed. You’re cultured or you’re not. You’re American or you’re an immigrant. But what if you’re somewhere in the middle?
College is definitely an exceedingly diverse place that celebrates differences but you as a new independent student are constantly seeking the comfort of home. This comfort comes from similarity. I find myself wondering which cultural group I align with more and there are so many groups that it’s a nightmare trying to decide where to orient yourself. Whenever someone asks me the very simple question “Where are you from?” it’s like I play a game in my head before I respond. If they’re from India I reply with “Bangalore” almost as if to prove I am cultured and if they’re from the US I reply with “California” as if subconsciously I’m emphasizing that I’m not a FOB. It often felt like I was caught in a cultural limbo because I’m not a real Asian American who grew up in the states but I’m also not really ‘Indian Indian’. The truth is I’m tired of playing these mind games and have come to a realization.
Don’t worry, this isn’t one of those ‘I found myself’ realizations where I discerned that no one else can shape my identity or navigate my link to my cultural heritage. I guarantee you I have heard these cliché words of wisdom and I agree with all of it but it’s really not that deep for me. I’ve just been confused trying to find my place in all the chaos.
Therefore, my realization is this: peace.
I found my peace. I found people who let me celebrate both sides of myself, people I tell about the confusing terrain of how Indian I really am, and when I find these people, I keep them close. It’s not about dropping half of yourself to conform to the other half but rather about striking the right balance and not starting a war in your head. Maybe then all of us won’t have such rigid definitions and fixed preconceived notions about those around us. Maybe then this weird cultural pull won’t hurt people and we can finally see our real stories being told on screen in their entirety, not just glimpses or spurts of relatability. Introspection really cleared my thoughts. Many times, we become engrossed with finding ourselves within a character in the media, that we forget to understand our own character for ourselves.
So, I ask you this: how well do you really represent all the different parts of yourself?
