As an ABCD, I want things both ways. In the USA I want to be recognized as fully American; hyphenated American to be sure, but still just as American as any pink-skinned Mayflower descendent. This is especially true when I need consular support or when I am re-entering the country.

I once had an INS agent look at my face and tell me that the line for foreign nationals was elsewhere. When I showed her my passport, she proceeded to treat it as fraudulent and grilled me (improperly) until she was satisfied. Ironically, she was a Filipina with a thick accent herself.

But in India, I usually want to pass. I was really proud when a Delhite came up to me on the street and asked me for directions in Hindi. The only time I’ve been amused to hear “You speak English really well” was when it came from an Eastern European tourist at Fatehpur Sikri. [I ruined the illusion by responding “Thanks. I watch a lot of American television” whereupon he recognized the American sense of humor.]

Heck, last time I was in India, I passed too well. I was wearing a khaddar kurta and had my beard open and some guard at the Delhi domestic airport decided I was too pendu to belong and demanded that I produce my ticket. I responded in very American English that my ticket was with my “Daaaaad” (it was) and walked off, having asserted myself as an NRI.

Is Jamie a modak? A manju?

Straddling these two worlds is fairly easy and has gotten easier over time as urban India has come to resemble the urban west more and more. I can’t imagine doing the opposite journey however, being a white person who was born and raised in India, carries an Indian passport, and intends to spend the rest of their lives in India.

I mean, we don’t even have a word for the opposite of coconut. What would we call somebody who is white on the outside, but brown (and hairy) on the inside? A pickled egg? A rotten egg? What’s the correct term for somebody like Jamie Alter?

A day in the life of Jamie Alter is not easy. He takes the bus to office … and is stared at all the way. Teenagers snigger and point… But Jamie, son of actor Tom Alter, isn’t a tourist or long-term expat. He’s Indian and it says as much on his passport. Having grown up in Mumbai and Mussoorie, Jamie understands references to Chitrahaar, not American sitcoms. When he went to the US for his undergraduate degree, he thought he’d blend in. And he did — as far as appearances go. Until he realised his heart was in India. “I missed the chaos of Mumbai. I love cricket, not American culture. I came back because I’m happier here,” says the 25-year-old. [Link]

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p>To me, the correct term for Jamie Alter is Indian.

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p>I know we want to believe so strongly that we can inherit cultural ownership by virtue of our skin and our domestic experiences that sometimes we see people like Alter as a challenge. If they’re Indian, what does that make us? I don’t know but I’m not that troubled by it. There can be both jus sanguinis and jus solis.

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p>India is a multicultural country. I remember once asking a Tibetan friend where the best Tibetan restaurant in Boston was, and she replied that she didn’t know since she only ate Indian. She had been born, raised and went to college in India before she came to the US, and was far more Indian than I. Her Hindi was not just better than mine, but probably better than both her Tibetan and her English.

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p>Similarly, my friend S. got annoyed by the failure of other people, especially ABDs, to recognize him as Indian. S. had blue eyes and fair skin. I thought he was Latino when I met him. But he was a hadesi pukka Bombayite, a real Indian.

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p>So I’m happy to recognize non-browns as being more Indian than I am, just like I’m not afraid of Elvis in the USA. I have no problem with white and black (and yes, non-Punjabi) contestants on Bhangra teams, just like I have no problem with non-desis learning Bollywood in Yorkshire or Colorado. I’ve gotten over my annoyance at people who can’t dance the right traditional way to Bhangra at clubs, in part because the worst offenders there are usually Gujaratis, not white folks. [I’m even more hopeless at Garba, so I can’t point fingers.] I don’t own Bhangra within India (heck, it’s not even part of my family’s tradition), and I don’t own it here either.

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p>I’m just not that fussed about asserting cultural ownership I guess, unlike some:

Cultural Ownership: I have no problems admitting that I sometimes feel like this. It’s like, “Dudes, I can’t even understand my own culture! It’s not fair that you can!” That just makes me jealous. What can I say? [Link]

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p>To me, it’s only fair I guess that things should go both ways. I’m an American. Kenyandesi is a third generation Kenyan. And Jamie Alter? He’s an Indian.

Related Posts: I’m not afraid of Elvis, On Hybrid Vigor, Acceptance and Grace