“…given up hiding and started to fight”

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October 31, 1984

“Mummy, Daddy can I dress up for Halloween this year?”

“No.  You are not allowed to participate in this ritual begging for candy.”

“Daddy, I meant for school…we’re supposed to…”

He eyed me suspiciously.  “I thought fifth grade would mean the end of such nonsense, but if you are supposed to…what do you need to wear”

I had thought about this.  Based on what the popular girls were last year, I decided…“I want to be a cheerleader!”

“Absolutely not.  Those skirts are indecent.”

“Caroline Auntie was a cheerleader!”

“In college.  When you’re in college, I’ll forbid you then, too.”

Nine-year old me promptly burst in to tears.  Later, my mother came to my room and helped me match a v-neck sweater from my old Catholic school uniform with a pleated skirt I usually wore to church—i.e. one which went to the middle of my knee.  She unpacked a box in my closet and wordlessly handed me my toy pom-poms.  My six-year old sister glared at her indignantly, so Mom rolled her eyes and did the same for her.  I was so excited.  Finally, a “cool” costume, one which didn’t involve an uncomfortable, weird-looking plastic mask to secure with an elastic band, from a pre-packaged ensemble.  I went to sleep feeling giddy.

The next morning, for the first time ever, I was tardy for school.  I don’t remember why, but I was.  When I walked in to class just before recess, everyone froze and stared at me.  The hopeful smile on my face dissolved; this year, the popular girls were all babies in cutesy pajamas with pacifiers around their necks.  I thought the weirdness in the air was due to my lame costume, but within a few minutes I discovered it was caused by something else entirely. 

The moment the bell rang, my desk was surrounded.  This couldn’t be good.  Was I going to get locked in a closet or a bathroom again? 

“Why are you here?”
“Yeah, we thought you weren’t coming.”
“Shouldn’t you be at home crying?”
“Mrs.  Doyle said you wouldn’t come in today.”

The questions assaulted me one after the other.  I was baffled. 

"Why…would…Mrs. Doyle say that?” I stammered.

“DUH, because Gandhi’s daughter got killed.”
“Isn’t she like your queen or something?  Or a Hindu God?”
“No you buttheads, she’s like the president of her country.”

At the end of the last sentence, the boy speaking gestured towards me.  When did they get so enlightened?  Last week, they asked if I was Cherokee and said “How” whenever I walked by, or pantomimed yowling war cries with their hands and mouth.

“She’s not the president of my country.  I’m…I’m from this country.  My president is Ronald Reagan.”

They got impatient and vaguely hostile.

“No, you’re Indian.  Mrs. Doyle said you were in mourning.”
“Did you not like her or something, is that why you don’t care?”
“I heard they dip her in milk before they burn her up.”
“Duh…that’s because they worship cows.”

I put my head down on my desk, as if we were playing “heads up, seven up”.   

“See?  She’s crying now…she is Indian.”

And with that they walked off, to do whatever it was that popular fifth-graders did.

::

Spring 1987.

I was sitting by myself (as usual…it’s always awesome to transfer to a K-8 school in the seventh grade, when no one is interested in making new friends with some outsider), reading something from the “The Babysitters Club”, pretending I was Mary Anne Spier.

“Hey ugly girl…”

I looked up to see a tall 8th grader whom every girl was crushing on…he was standing with his best friend, who elbowed him and muttered, “ask her!”

“Weren’t you supposed to be aborted?

I was horrified and confused.  Horrified because these people never talked to me, confused because…

“You know, since you’re like…a Hindu and we just learned that they only like to have sons.  So we were wondering if your parents wished they had aborted you. You should ask.”

The sidekick started guffawing and both of them ran off.  I sat there, my book still page-down in my lap, unable to read for the rest of recess.  I wished I could go home.

Four hours later…

“Where is your sister?  What is she up to?  I haven’t heard any noise.”

“I dunno…reading the dictionary or something nerdy”. 

I realized my father was headed to the dining room, which is where he left the huge, so-heavy-I-couldn’t-lift-it Webster’s dictionary open for me, so he wouldn’t have to constantly retrieve it from the shelf.  I slapped half the book over, to obscure what I had been looking at…

“What are you doing?  Why did you just do that?  What are you hiding?”

“Um, nothing.”

I tried to slip my finger out from the page I was trying to bookmark, but he was too quick.  The pages flipped back to “A”.

“ABORTION?  You are looking at ABORTION?  Oh my God, why did I sacrifice and struggle and come to this country, so my 12-year old daughter could be impregnated?  Were you raped?  Did someone do something to you? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THAT WORD!”

I actually didn’t know what “raped” meant, either.  My parents hadn’t explained anything like that to me yet.  I was still playing with Barbie and sleeping with my stuffed Persian cat; they saw no need.  I made a mental note to look up “rape”.

My mother came running, “What is this?”

“She is looking at ABORTION!”

“Why?”

“Was I supposed to be aborted?”

My parents faces fell slack from astonishment.

My Mother looked at my Father, then me.  “Why…would…you…ask…such a thing?”

“Some kids at school asked me to ask you if you wished you had aborted me.  I didn’t know what that meant…”

My Father walked away.  My Mother came up to me, looked me in the eye and said, “No.  We did not wish that.  Your Father was very excited, in fact, he always said he hoped you would turn out to be a girl and he was so happy you did.”

My Mother seemed sad.  “You don’t like your new school, do you?”

I shook my head, no.

::

Fall 1989.

“Class, today we are going to do something a bit different—we’re going to look at Catholicism’s impact on the world.”

I tried not to smirk as I recalled my Father’s rants about how Catholicism destroyed things and was rather evil.   

“We’re going to start with India, which is where Anna is from!”

Uh…

“One of the most visible Catholics in the world has chosen India, to serve.  Mother Theresa uses her faith to care for the filthy, the neglected, the unfortunate…”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

“…let’s start our discussion by asking our Indian student more!”

“Um, I’m American.”

“Yes, dear.  But you’re Indian.  What’s India like?”

“I’m just saying, I was born here, so I don’t really know—“

“Now, let’s not fib…I now for a fact you just came back from your country.”

“Well…um…yes, but it’s my parents’ country…no, wait, even they are American citizens.” 

The nun was getting impatient. “May I remind you that discussion counts for your participation grade?  Now would you like to add something constructive to this conversation?”

“Uh…sure.  Well, I did just get back from India.  I had not visited it since I was five, so I learned a lot.”  The nun nodded, with an encouraging smile.

“And tell us about the poverty you saw, the contrasts with America.”

“I…didn’t see poverty really…”

“Calcutta is very impoverished!  How is that possible?”

“I went to Kerala.  I’ve never been to Calcutta.  I’m from South India.  I went to where my parents are from and visited their families.  And Kerala is lush and green and so pretty.  The people are all really smart and the museum I went to—“

“How far is Careluh from Calcutta?”

“It’s really far.”

“So far that you didn’t see beggars?”

“I saw a few…”

“JUST a few?”

“No more than I see when I visit San Francisco.”

“That’s it young lady.  I will not tolerate your smart-aleck behavior.  To the principal’s office you will go and you’ll have detention, later.”

“But I didn’t…”

“Would you like me to double your punishment?”

I nodded miserably and walked out, reaching in to my backpack for my headphones.  Reel Life’s “Send Me an Angel” accompanied me as I dawdled on my way to the office. 

::

I thought of all of those moments, yesterday.  I’ll get to why in a mere moment. 

Besides my younger sibling, I was the only Indian kid at all of my schools except for the last one I cited. Obviously, my little sister did not accompany me to high school, but there was one other Indian girl there. Unfortunately, she wanted nothing to do with  me, because she couldn’t relate to me; she told me I wasn’t Indian enough, that I was white-washed. 

I was South Indian and Christian, I didn’t do garba or understand what she was talking about when she asked me about whether I preferred Salwars to lenghas–in fact, I didn’t even know what a lengha was…just like I was clueless about which Bollywood actor I should have a crush on. Once she realized that I had no experience with such things, she decided she had no use for me.  We didn’t speak, despite sitting next to each other, in home room.

This is now a well-known tale, this trial-by-ignorance which older 1.5/second gens went through.  I am amazed and relieved when I understand that things will never be that brutal for generation 3, not in this world where the internet sates curiosity while dissolving international borders and knitting us all together via the web. 

India is no longer so weird or foreign; today, people don’t eat monkey brains on the big screen. The little ABDs I’ve met recently who are nine, 12 and 14 are informed, empowered, righteous and sassy.  Once upon a time, if you had told me that girls in this country would wear lenghas and saris to their Junior Prom or in their Senior portrait, I would have thought you were a bad comedian.  I would have and did wear Gunne Sax, to both, way back in the early 90s.

::

I often say that I didn’t become a desi until my final year of college, which is when the ISA was allowed back on campus; nothing like “India Night” to give you a concentrated dose of culture. By the time I commenced my second semester of graduate school, in 2000, I had crossed over in to what felt like another realm—for the first time, the majority of my friends were brown. That was life-altering for a girl who lived through the three childhood situations I started this post with. The more people I met from abroad, the more I experienced, and the more I changed.

I had taken plenty of South Asian studies classes as an undergrad, but going to a hyper-International school like GW was like getting the practical experience to complement years of theory. Now, I have a rich, self-defined relationship with the subcontinent, a relationship which I’m so immersed in, it confuses and vaguely irritates my parent. She shakes her head when she catches me reading “Learn Malayalam in 30 days” or when she overhears me interrogating my cherished, fobulous friends about everything I don’t know (which is obviously a LOT).

The end result of all this is that though I’m not from India, now, I am of it. I love it, but not blindly. I celebrate it, but I don’t do so because of inherited jingoism. India is like a family member; I will bitch about it and worry and criticize…but heaven help someone else who attempts to do so in my presence. I know I have annoyed and even enraged some of you with some of my posts; some of you have accused me of being anti-India, when that is the furthest thing from reality. “I love my India”, I’ve written cheekily a few times at the Mutiny. Once, one of you pushed back; “What does that even mean? How is it YOURS?”

It’s mine because it just is, because I want it to be and also, because for my entire childhood, I felt like I was being thrown in to a deep well by my classmates, in an extreme act of othering. My sole company? No, not my Baby-sitters Club or Cheerleaders books—it was my ancestral country, which had been roughed up along side of me, before being tossed in the pit after me.

Once, when I couldn’t take the torment meted out to me, I burst in to tears in front of my Father and told him that I hated my uber-competitive, ultra-bitchy high school, where uniforms which were meant to equalize were an ineffective joke played on girls who didn’t have Dooney and Bourke backpacks, Gucci purses or polo players on their shirts and socks. I wailed that I was miserable, that I hated sticking out like the stench of patchouli in a room full of Chanel, that I didn’t fit in anywhere, especially with thick, long hair which reached the backs of my knees. “Where am I supposed to go? Where will people be nice to me?”

For once, instead of dismissing me or mocking me, he looked lost in thought, before he murmured, “India”.

Later that summer, we visited Ooty, another boarding school I can’t remember and two private high schools, one in Kottayam, the other in Cochin. Though I had hated India the first week I was there, after being terrorized by insects which looked like they had been imported from my nightmares, finding myself mired in a decades-old family feud and realizing, to my hostile resentment, that no, Indian girls did NOT have hair so long that they could sit on it, that I was the only naïve moron who lived up to that now passé ideal…I eventually calmed down.

Two weeks in to our two-month long trip, I was fluent again in my first language, Malayalam, and after my first month in Kerala, whatever resistance I felt to this strange new reality melted. I felt a peace I had never known before, because for the first time in my life, everyone looked like me, worshipped where I did and ate what I ate. I was enchanted and fine with staying; I daydreamed about waving to my father and sister at the airport in Madras, before being whisked back to Kerala by either my Dad’s elder brother or his beloved best friend.

My father realized that he couldn’t bear to leave me on the other side of the world, and that was the end of that. I returned to the U.S., to nuns who loathed non-Catholic, uncooperative me, to girls who yanked open my cardigan so that they could exclaim, “OMG, she’s still poor!” when they saw no logo prancing across my breast, to once again being exiled and alone. Daddy was troubled. Had he been selfish? “You know, you can always go to India. In a way, it will always be your home. If you are fed up…you could go back. You have that option. You are not rootless. I know you were happy, there…”

So, to me, India has always been synonymous with sanctuary. A naïve sentiment, I know, but also, a necessary fiction; it helped me survive.

How could I disparage my refuge, my roots? And could I stand by idly, when, on a popular blog, India was repeatedly tarnished?

::

Jezebel is part of Gawker’s online empire. Its tagline is Celebrity, Sex, Fashion. Without the airbrushing. When I stumbled upon it, it was love at first browse. It was smart, defiant and allergic to bullshit. It was fierce. For the first time, in many, many years, I felt like I had found the successor to Sassy, the legendary teen magazine which saved my sanity in a “YM” world. And who were these commenters?! These women who were righteous, bawdy, witty and often, hilarious? This was like the best of my sorority years, with none of the annoying idocratic declarations or pesky monthly dues. After weeks of lurking, I wanted to dive in this rollicking online hot tub…but there was one catch: you had to audition to comment!

Audition to become a commenter. To become a registered commenter on this site, you first need to be approved by our team. We’re looking for comments that are interesting, substantial or highly amusing. So write a comment, polish up your words and choose a username and password below. Your comment will only appear once (or if) you’re approved. Want to know more? Consult the Comment FAQ. [Jezebel]

I submitted my thoughts and then spent an anxious day or so wondering if I’d be deemed worthy; a few hours in to the weirdness, I realized exactly what it reminded me of—the end of sorority rush, when you make your choice and then sleeplessly wait for a bid. When my comment finally appeared on the site, I cackled triumphantly. YES! I was allowed in! I was a part of the coolest clique ever, the anti-clique, which called out anyone and everything. This was AWESOME.

Except…I started to see references to India, in their news roundups and then comments, which would inevitably refer back to the brown element of the post…and unlike the rest of the Jezebel experience…they were less than…fair. Sometimes, they were downright ignorant. Worse still, the female bloggers whom I had been crushing on pretty heavily seemed to not get it; sometimes, it seemed as if they were encouraging the ick. I have to tell you, it really did feel like being a teen all over again, right down to the confusion, the angst and the anticipation of exile.

Does that seem melodramatic ? It’s not, to me. I spend all my time here, at SM. Like a new, stay-at-home mother who is starved for “grown-up” conversation, i.e. that which does not involve poo or puking, I wanted more (and please, no stupid conflation of poo/puke/infancy with SM…sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar and a metaphor is, too.) Unfortunately, my source for what I had craved seemed less than welcoming.

And here’s where it gets all afterschool special; would I quietly observe the unfair digs at my “sanctuary” and remain mute, to protect my coveted place in that Jezebel-space? Or would I do what I was aching to—speak my mind, at the risk of alienating the popular and powerful? Yeah, you know how this turns out…

Indian actress Shilpa Shetty has been arrested at the Mumbai, India airport. Her crime? Obscenity. The act? Being the recipient of that overly demonstrative kidd on the cheek from Richard Gere. [Daily Mail] 12:45 PM ON THU SEP 27 2007 BY JENNIFER. 1,428 views
BY WARMAIDEN AT 09/27/07 12:58 PM This takes ‘blaming the victim’ to a whole ‘nother level. yay, India! (PS – Shouldn’t they be hanging those guys who drugged and raped the Japanese touristas?)
BY LOVESTOSMILE AT 09/27/07 01:03 PM My lord. I’m Indian and this is absolutely embarassing.
BY LOVESTOSMILE AT 09/27/07 01:11 PM As someone who’s Indian, I can say with all confidence that this is a matter of national shame.
BY ANDALUCíA AT 09/27/07 01:11 PM @LovesToSmile: I’m American. We won the Embarrassment Sweepstakes years ago.
BY RAINBOWBRITE AT 09/27/07 01:12 PM You’d think India would be trying to look a little more progressive these days. That “India at 60” campaign is everywhere here in NY, but stories like this one don’t really help their tourism…
BY SARAHINSASK AT 09/27/07 01:13 PM What a disgusting, filthy crime. Right? Right? Clearly India has no heinous criminal at large than Shilpa Shetty.
BY AHWANNABE AT 09/27/07 01:14 PM lovely country we’re outsourcing work to.
BY HABIBI AT 09/27/07 01:16 PM Jennifer, fix the typo – India is spelled “India” and not “Indnia”. Since when is getting a kiss on the cheek a crime? The Indian government should be embarrassed by this.
BY ANNOYINGFEMALELEADVOICEOVER AT 09/27/07 01:16 PM She was let go as soon as the cops realized the charges had been turned over months ago. Not that this justifies the act, but for a heads up.
BY CHOCOLATECOFFEEBEANS AT 09/27/07 01:30 PMIt is things like this that make me completelly terrified to travel to the Middle East at all, even though I consider myself relatively well-travelled. This combined with stories of getting hands cut off for stealing (not that I would steal) or the weird rules about things like alcohol and women’s dress. I just know it would take me approximately 15 minutes before I broke a law or offended someone. No thanks.

BY SUITABLEGIRL AT 09/27/07 02:32 PM @ahwannabe: Yes, let’s bring outsourcing in to this, it’s obviously germane. One tiny reminder: we should also bring it up when Canada or Ireland or every other country we outsource to gets brought up in any context whatsoever– that way we’re consistent.

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She wasn’t arrested, she was detained by some idiot on a power trip (not rare in India). This is not a matter of national shame, not when there are a million worse problems in the subcontinent. Is it stupid? Yes. Should this have happened? No. But let’s not go overboard, even though it is *so* fun and satisfying to snark at those unenlightened, job-stealing misogynists.

BY SUITABLEGIRL AT 09/27/07 02:34 PM @CHOCOLATECOFFEEBEANS: Right, except India is not in the Middle East. And as flawed as it is, its hassles are a far cry from Saudi Arabia, which is what you’re comparing it to.
BY SPECTATERTOT AT 09/27/07 02:40 PM @LovesToSmile: ditto (on being indian and finding this embarassing)
BY CHOCOLATECOFFEEBEANS AT 09/27/07 03:32 PM Ya know, I realized what I had said right after I posted it. I do realize India is not the “Middle East” but as has been mentioned, it is the crazy mix of government and religion that is a common thread to a lot of these countries and I would just not feel comfortable, and would be terrified of doing something wrong.
BY NARYMARY AT 09/27/07 04:10 PM This is really sad. I hope nothing awful happens to her!
BY NIGERIENNE AT 09/27/07 04:34 PM Way to set India back more than the people of Dell.

BY AHWANNABE AT 09/27/07 05:18 PM @Suitablegirl: AFAIK, Canada and Ireland have human rights laws that are at least somewhat similar to the ones we have in the good ole USA, so if the fat cats want to oursource there because it’s cheaper, can’t argue with that.

What I take offense to is when our fat cats outsource jobs to countries where this kind of abuse is considered okay, when we have LAWS in place to prevent it from happening here. That is the height of hypocrisy, and yes I will continue to bring up the subject of outsourcing until I’m blue in the face, or people get a clue.

BY SFIKUS AT 09/27/07 06:41 PM @Suitablegirl: “She wasn’t arrested, she was detained by some idiot on a power trip (not rare in India). This is not a matter of national shame, not when there are a million worse problems in the subcontinent.”

– Were she not Shilpa Shetty, and considered a bit of a national treasure, she could have faced a whole trove of other pleasures reserved for women in India – acid, stoning, etc. Yes, after all the sabre rattling, she was let off easily, but I think much of her reported reaction was compounded by her knowledge of what _could_ have happened…

BY SUITABLEGIRL AT 01:40 AM

@narymary: I think she’ll be okay.

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@sfikus: Were she not Shilpa Shetty, Richard Gere wouldn’t have kissed her…I think it’s a bit much to call her a national treasure, but hey, I also think it’s a bit much to paint this dire, sensational picture of a country which has issues– just like other countries. The horror is everywhere, India doesn’t have a monopoly on it– to me, misogyny is global.

I’m bemused that I am now in this bizarre situation where I stick up for a country I normally criticize righteously.

Want to call India out on something? How about gender-selective abortions, that I’ll agree is an India-specific problem. But acid? Double standards about women who are public figures/tabloids rushing to fan flames? Pot, kettle. As for stoning, again, that’s more of a Taliban penalty for adultery, not an “Indian” one; my concern throughout this thread has been exactly that sort of conflation. India is by no means perfect– but it doesn’t deserve to be painted by such a broad, ugly brush.

“a whole trove of other pleasures reserved for women in India – acid, stoning, etc.”

I was drawn to this site because I loved the fierce women who were creative, free-thinkers…but I’m chagrined to see less thinking and more reacting here. India is a subcontinent, with an amazing range of cultures, traditions, people…my parents came from a state with a matrilineal tradition, but that’s not part of the “India” caricature, so no one knows or wants to acknowledge that. I get sad when I see intelligent, otherwise tolerant women engage in reductionist stereotyping which minimizes and demeans.

Sorry for the extra-long comment. I’m new here, I want to make sure I articulate my position well, because that’s how much I respect this space.

Sigh. My inner teen is currently vaguely miserable. I thought I had discovered this amazing group of girls to hang out with, every day (and you know how difficult that is to do after college!), but perhaps I was so desperate to belong, I didn’t consider the totality of what I was coveting. Worst of all, why were the other two brown Jezebels okay with this? Was I wrong to be hurt on behalf of a country I had never even lived in?

That’s what really bothered me– I was the only one who was not echoing the chorus and following the mood; the choice of the other two desis, to toe some stupid line was like NaCl in my wound. Now it REALLY felt like high school. Is this how it is? You have to kowtow to be welcome? Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t do that the first time I was required to, back in 1988. I’m supposed to find it within me to do so NOW, two decades later? Perhaps I’m wrong about my orientation and I’m not a Jezbian after all.

The prospect of that is depressing. As much as I love my sepia baby, it’s nice to get out and do more than mother (and smother). The last time I tried to get in to a sorority, I was surrounded by people who were often clueless and thus, unintentionally hurtful; at least at the DG house they were essentially oblivious, what hurts the most here is that these women are aware, that they know a little something about India. But it’s just like what my Mom always says (especially after meeting a patient who has become “empowered” with drug or other info via WebMD, who is helpfully clutching a printout of such): a little bit of knowledge can be very dangerous. For the first time, ever, I wonder if it’s better to be ignorant about some things.

445 thoughts on ““…given up hiding and started to fight””

  1. I’m new here, I’m sorry about what you had to go through. It is a very well-written post, I wish I could express my feelings so clearly. As far as I can tell, you turned out more than okay, as some of the other commenters have pointed out!

  2. Camille, and the serenity and peace of mind that comes with zero expectations is priceless. 😀

    Another thing taught at Landmark.

  3. Here another bizarre comment from Ennis on a similiar topic..it was so far from from left-field.

    Have you ever seen Mississppi Masala? I can’t seriously believe that you think that the desi community is not racist towards blacks. It’s not just a pervasive sentiment, it’s also pretty widely and easily acknowledged.

    You’d be surprised the kinds of questions I get asked by random strangers who meet me when I’m in India. “You’re from New York? Aren’t there black people there? Isn’t that dangerous?”

    Similarly, female friends of mine (hindu and sikh) tell me that their parents prefer them to be with a fellow desi of the “right” sort, would accept a white person, but would throw a fit if they came home with either a black man or a muslim man. Black men are clearly ranked way below white men in terms of familial acceptability.

    You must exist in a very fair minded and egalitarian segment of the desi world. I haven’t seen that, either in the USA or in India.

  4. Don’t mean to hate on your parents (ABDs that had all kinds of identity issues), but i lay the blame squarely on them. Incredible lack of foresight. Parents need to arm their kids with tools to face the world and saying they had no idea is no excuse. It does not matter where you are from, everyone goes through some form of bullying, othering. In India, it may have been regionalism, casteism, colorism whatever. And i see it happen all over again with clueless DBDs choosing to settle here but preserve their “culture” which seems to involve no dating etc etc, fair is beautiful and all the other baggage that goes with it. Maybe they can preserve the good things and adopt other things from the host culture. The next generation of ABDs will certainly have it much easier as US society becomes more aware or it could be worse with the currrent terrorism/xenophobia.

    also, i do find the term white/trailor trash incredibly offfensive. nothing wrong with being blue collar or poor or worrking with ur hands for a living. maybe it means they can not appreciate sushi, but big F. I know white collar folks in CT (living 45 minutes from NYC) that are also completely insular in their tastes.

    I work a lot with blue collar/factory workers and have found them to be quite open. also, i have spent a considerable amount of time in the midwest (big city and small town) and i have never been subjected to any kinda racist sentiment. In 8 years in this country, not once has anyone told me to fix their internets, computer, go back to my hole or anything else.

    I was at a bar right after 9-11 in the mid west, and got talking to some people (this was a gay bar) and they asked me where i was from because of my accent and i said afghanistan very straight faced (it was an experiment) and they said, don’t let people give u shit. you are welcome in the US and don’t let anyone tell u any different.

    i travel all over the country. a lot. and i’m in the sticks a lot too. i have pulled into random diners in the middle of nowhere in the mid west and the south off back country roads, and never got anything more than the most courteous service.

    my indian friend (from des) and I (also a fob) went hiking for 2 months on the appalachian trail 8 months after 9-11. every week, we would come out into some podunk town armed with heavy scary looking beards…same courtesy. We met some random guy in a small town in Masssachusetts at the bar. We were looking for a place at the edge of town where we could camp out in our tents for the night, before we headed back into the trail. This guy was blue collar (carpenter or something), huge and had not gone to college. He offered for us to pitch our tents in his backyard (right near where he parked his trailor), use his shower, he BBQed for us and we hung out and drank and smoked. And lest anyone think he had any intentions, he didn’t. He was dating the bartender and she joined us later at night after she got off work. And we were brown, bearded fobs. He asked us where we were from and we said India and that was basically it. there was no conversation abt anything else. we talked abt music, chics etc etc. The funniest part was when my friend could not remember his name (we were drunk and stoned) and i tried to tell him in Hindi and said Ja uuu eeee and the guy heard me and asked if i was spelling his name (joe), I laughed and apologized and we all had a good laugh.

    I have been in this country for 8 years. I am a fob. I am not in IT. I’m very brown (not light skinned). I have not had one remotely racist experience and I have lived in the midwest and currently in NYC, been in small towns and dated blue collar/so called white trash and people of other races. I have never had an untoward incident at the airport even though i can look pretty fierce at 8 in the morning in my shades. Am I living in some alternate universe?

  5. You’d be surprised the kinds of questions I get asked by random strangers who meet me when I’m in India. “You’re from New York? Aren’t there black people there? Isn’t that dangerous?”

    Ennis, part of the problem can probably be traced to what Indians in India see in mainstream Hollywood movies, and what the Indian media chooses to show about blacks in the US. Not all of them have had a chance to read Cornel West et al.

  7. delirium,

    I think the blogger was talking about elementary/high school experiences, not with grown ups like you have had..

  8. have not had one remotely racist experience and I have lived in the midwest and currently in NYC, been in small towns and dated blue collar/so called white trash and people of other races. I have never had an untoward incident at the airport even though i can look pretty fierce at 8 in the morning in my shades. Am I living in some alternate universe?

    A different one from the one I live in, certainly, although the turban and beard attracts more racism. I’ve got to say the midwest is far worse than the coasts, but I encountered racism in all of the places I’ve lived in. That said, I never got it in school the way Anna did. That’s the big advantage of a city school system where students are very diverse. A teacher who pulled that in my elementary school would have been fired.

  9. @107 Ponniyin

    I understand that Anna’s experience was in school growing up. My post was more to other commenters that had talked abt white trash/amrus/goras etc and their experience with ignorance. Is that ur real name? That’s a kickass tamil name.

  10. Why did my previous comment get deleted? Ok, I get it, I’m not welcome at SM.

    Sometimes, though rare, it’s a bug. Or we accidentally check the wrong box when we’re trying to delete spam and it’s too late to stop/retrieve it. All who abide by the comment guidelines are welcome at SM!

    if there is one thing I walked away from that with it was; NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR STORY, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

    Carlita, I think a lot of people “care” about stories, as demonstrated by the number of comments on identity/musings/personal posts. It’s rather rude of you to “shout” nobody cares, when you don’t speak for everyone. You might have good intentions, but that was a very harsh sentiment, especially when people are delurking and sharing their experiences by commenting about their own experiences. Be nicer, please.

    When I read this, “…Given Up Hiding and Started to Fight”, Landmark jumped out from behind the screen at me.

    Yes, that’s clear. You almost sound like you’re on their payroll. Please, no more advertising for them.

    Ever get the nauseous feeling the wrong people are leading…I do all the time.

    No one is forcing you to read SM or leave nonsensical, derisive comments. Perhaps you should attend a Landmark workshop, so you can get over it.

  11. “Hey, stop partying and come home to fix my Dell” This is what a gora told me in a pub last week.

    a chick in a pub asked you to come home? when she said “fix my dell” you sure she didn’t mean “ring my bell“

  12. A different one from the one I live in, certainly, although the turban and beard attracts more racism.

    Ennis, I think there is a bit of a difference in perspective too when it comes to ABD v/s DBD. A DBD FOB (such as myself) does not expect to be accepted unconditionally in this society, so any positive experience appear just a bit more positive. An ABD however expects the unconditional acceptance (which is normal) from people of his/her country (US) and as a result is able to see bias when it occurs. Some of us DBDs may not even be able to see bias when it happens (except in work or money related matter … that case we are all over it 🙂 ).

  13. Camille, and the serenity and peace of mind that comes with zero expectations is priceless. 😀

    I don’t know if this is just an indication that I’m getting cynical, but I totally agree. I find life is much better when I have no expectations. 🙂

    Ennis, and what if your female friends brought home a black Muslim? I’m slightly joking, but have often heard the same as what you’ve described… and that includes among “progressive” desi circles.

    delirium — I’m with you on the “trailer trash” comment, and also with the overuse and misuse of the term “redneck,” which comes up in nearly every post that refers to white people or white nativism/racism towards desis in the U.S. [although, thankfully, not yet in this thread] As far as never experiencing a racist moment — you might be living in a semi-alternate universe 😉

    I’m kidding a little; your experiences are your own and are valid. That said, I think many of us (ABDs) have had experiences to the contrary. And to be clear, just speaking for myself most of my “racist moments” have happened on the coasts. Most of the “nicest” experiences I’ve had have been in the midwest (WI, IL, OH) and within predominantly African American cities in the south (e.g. New Orleans, Atlanta, D.C.).

  14. Don’t mean to hate on your parents (ABDs that had all kinds of identity issues), but i lay the blame squarely on them. Incredible lack of foresight. Parents need to arm their kids with tools to face the world and saying they had no idea is no excuse. It does not matter where you are from, everyone goes through some form of bullying, othering

    The truest thing I read all day.

    J. Krishnamurti’s philosophy repackaged as a Landmark workshop? Sweet!! 🙂 🙂

    Basically yeah. There were alot of similarities.

  16. Ennis, and what if your female friends brought home a black Muslim? I’m slightly joking, but have often heard the same as what you’ve described… and that includes among “progressive” desi circles.

    I just had this conversation with somebody – I think that a black Muslim wouldn’t be as bad as long as he was African. The worst would be either an African-American guy or a Muslim guy from South Asia / the Gulf. The best way to find out, though, would be with a randomized experiment. First, we need a metric to measure parental reaction …

  17. Quoth Ennis:

    I’ve got to say the midwest is far worse than the coasts,

    Ennis, I must say that while this seems to be the received, conventional wisdom, I’ve had a totally different experience. I’ve generally experienced little to no racism in Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Wisconsin (mix of small towns & big cities in each). Michigan was more ignorance than hate (except Ann Arbor which is almost a lovefest). The two memorable incidents of hate I’ve experienced were in southern Florida and Edison, NJ (both when I was visiting friends). Based completely on my personal experience, I question the received wisdom – but I would like to compare geography notes with you (not asking for specific incidents unless you’re completely comfortable narrating them). One thing I observed was that generally people are more outspoken in the NE than in the Midwest, so it’s possible that Midwesterners are better at masking their feelings than Northeasterners.

    (I refrain from comparing with the West Coast due to insufficient prolonged contact, but the few times I’ve been there have been alright.)

  18. This, for me, was a very interesting comment:

    “A DBD FOB (such as myself) does not expect to be accepted unconditionally in this society, so any positive experience appear just a bit more positive. An ABD however expects the unconditional acceptance (which is normal) from people of his/her country (US) and as a result is able to see bias when it occurs.”

    This seems to ring true in our family. What do others think about this?

  19. if there is one thing I walked away from that with it was; NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR STORY, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?
    Carlita, I think a lot of people “care” about stories, as demonstrated by the number of comments on identity/musings/personal posts. It’s rather rude of you to “shout” nobody cares, when you don’t speak for everyone. You might have good intentions, but that was a very harsh sentiment, especially when people are delurking and sharing their experiences by commenting about their own experiences. Be nicer, please.

    Yeah it came off the wrong way. Didn’t mean to insinuate that individuals do not matter but, in the ultimate analysis, our stories do not matter. We are tiny specks on just one planet out of many on the edge of our universe. Ten thousand years from now will any of this matter? So Landmark aims at giving us the bigger picture so we can get over our silly issues and really start shining.

    Not an advertisement for Landmark, but I think if people who are suffering complexes due to the opinions of other tiny specks on our planet could “get this” one point, well, there would be alot less traffic on the net coz basicallly we wouldn’t have to use it as a medium to resolve issues. We would be out living life REALLY LARGE, living life on the cutting edge.

  20. Ennis, I must say that while this seems to be the received, conventional wisdom, I’ve had a totally different experience.

    My experience was that the West coast was worse than the East coast, and that the Midwest is considerably worse than either, although in the midwest I’m not living in a large city which may be part of the problem.

    Aggregate incidents of racism have been far higher in the Midwest for me, which, if you consider the fact that there are fewer people out there, means that the frequency of incidence is far far higher here (again, for me). As for politeness – I’m talking about over racism, the screeching tires, the yelled threat, etc. Nothing hidden here.

  21. J. Krishnamurti’s philosophy repackaged as a Landmark workshop? Sweet!! 🙂 🙂
    Basically yeah. There were alot of similarities.

    I was being just a little bit facetious with my comment since I can borrow Jiddu’s books from my local library for free.

  22. @ 112 RC – interesting observation and one that i had not overlooked. I completely entertain the thought that I am oblivious to the world around me but not ONE INCICDENT in 8 years? And I can usually smell the fart before people have swallowed their hummus. It is not a question of being accepted into American society. I am a part of it, as an outsider, whether people like it or not. I have very high standards or expectations in terms of bein treated (and treating others) as an equal and a human.

    I did not intend to deny people’s experiences. I was surprised that I never faced any myself… i walk around in NYC (subways and commuter train stations where there are a lot of cops allowed to do random checks) with a quran and FLIGHT MANUALS in my backpack, waiting to see what happens when i get detained. Never did.

    lapse in security?

    over and over again then…

  23. apparently it was a mini-tamasha

    From Sify News:

    Actor Shilpa Shetty faced some unpleasant and embarrassing moments at the international airport in Mumbai early on Wednesday when an immigration official allegedly spoke rudely to her just before she was to leave for Germany for West End musical ‘Miss Bollywood.’

    The immigration officials at the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport were apparently not informed of the Supreme Court clearance given to the Bollywood actor to travel abroad.

    ……………

    The apex court quashed the Alwar court order and gave her permission to travel abroad.

    What added to the actor’s embarrassment was a huge crowd that had gathered around at the airport to watch her exchange of words with the immigration personnel.

    Now Shilpa is planning to take action against the immigration authorities for what she termed as offensive behaviour.

  24. pingpong — I think the west coast feels better, but have had several racist experiences (mostly involving men, hmmm), including on campus as an undergrad at Cal. It was worse in LA than SF, and much worse (overall) in parts of the Valley. There’s also a difference in who makes the jokes — if they’re coming from a low-income person of color there’s a different tenor than when it comes from a more class-elite white person (I think the latter is similar to Northeasterners in the tone of their racism). That said, I think the general level of violence or intensity of incidences are much worse in poor (shrinking city/rural-type) areas and much much worse in the midwest.

    Ennis, that’s interesting. I don’t think anyone I knew considered (black) African Muslims, but they definitely thought “the only thing worse than bringing home a [desi] Muslim would be a black [African American] guy, and the only thing worse than that would be to bring home a black Muslim.” This was, of course, coming from non-Muslims.

    goriwife, I think that trend seems to be relatively true for many people. That said, I think I would be shocked if, as a first-generation immigrant, someone still said the things said to ANNA to me. My mother (a first-gen’er) certainly grew up with these kinds of exchanges and took issue with them.

  25. “A DBD FOB (such as myself) does not expect to be accepted unconditionally in this society, so any positive experience appear just a bit more positive. An ABD however expects the unconditional acceptance (which is normal) from people of his/her country (US) and as a result is able to see bias when it occurs.” This seems to ring true in our family. What do others think about this?

    Yeah, I agree. As an expatriate ABD of course I don´t mind being taken as foreign in the country where I live now, but I wonder about the adopted Indian kids, and the few Indian-origin kids raised in Indian immigrant families, that I see around here.

    And, when I am asked where I´m from, I say I´m an American, and rarely am I asked for further clarification or challenged on that, nor do I generally see any reactions of surprise. Disbelief primarily comes from other Americans out here.

  26. You must exist in a very fair minded and egalitarian segment of the desi world. I haven’t seen that, either in the USA or in India.

    Nah, Ennis, I was seriously raised to be equally wary of whites and blacks. Till I got to University I never knew that there was a prevailing extra stigma toward blacks among Indians.

  27. Thanks for the story, Anna.

    Although these stories may be years old, they definitely bring up long “forgotten” memories and help to put old events into context for gen-x’ers who are now “professionals.”

    Your position of “in-between-ness” + introspectiveness helps us (at least me) view these situations with open eyes–and dissolve some old wounds:)

  28. Regarding the desi toward black stigma, I second iabd. I didn’t realize this to college either–mostly b/c I only met one other indian before that (no indian relatives met until mid-20s).

    Around college age, there was an indian friend who couldn’t tell her parents about her boyfriend from the darker nation and that started the intro into understanding some quirks of indian culture . . .

  29. great post Anna. On the matter of Indians not liking blacks-it’s a prejudice which I think only 1st gen Indian-Americans would have-basically attributed to the Indian preference for ‘white’ skin-even people with darker skin types in India have to face a little bit of discrimination.

  30. A N N A, don’t lean on the side of ignorance – the stuff is out there whether we read it or not, eh? Somewhat parallel, I often wonder in the context of homophobia if I’d rather know somebody’s issues with me or not. I usually do (except in the case of the ridiculous ‘jesus hates f*%s’ sign holders) becuase even though it takes a lot of strength to regulate, people do become less racist, homophobic etc as they become more aware.

    I find it so interesting that I’ve experienced the same specific harshities that have been mentioned (“do you wear a feather in your hair and chant / not take a shower?”) and this was on the West Coast, albeit a conservative part.

    Keep fighting the fight, our Jezbian, and we’ll just have to start up a pool of SMers for you to crush on 😉

  31. @anna- thanks for sharing all that with us. Not everyone cares or wants to lay their heart out like that. i feel sorry that you had to go through all that.
    hugs and kisses to the lil Anna from those stories.

  32. Re #104:

    Am I living in some alternate universe?

    Yes. I can be as American as a brown can get, and yet examples of things I have heard in the Midwest include “sandnigger,” “nigger,” “cameljockey,” and on and on.

  33. Yes. I can be as American as a brown can get, and yet examples of things I have heard in the Midwest include “sandnigger,” “nigger,” “cameljockey,” and on and on.

    ….Are you Scythian or dravidian-looking? If the latter, well that explains “cameljockey” type-comments, innit. lightblub ; )

  34. It’s interesting to note, that the Bay Area of ANNA’s time, and the Bay Area of my time can be so different. I know girls who wore sari’s and lehengas to prom, and thats what I’m planning to do too. There’s literally a melting pot of Indians, and Asians, and every ethnicity possible where I live. I’m sorry for the pain and the confusion your generation suffered through here in America, but I’d also like to thank you guys, because you guys made it easier for my generation to be what we’re like today. We’re confident in our identities, and for the most part, consider ourselves “Indian-American”.

    so yeah, thanks 🙂

  35. ….Are you Scythian or dravidian-looking? If the latter, well that explains “cameljockey” type-comments, innit. *lightblub* ; )

    dont worry scythian. we all look same to the ignorant.

  36. I’ve been reading SM for a little over a year now and this is the first post that’s compelled me to comment (which is not to the say other posts here haven’t been as choice but this struck a little close to home)- I’m from Delhi, lived there all my life until I came to the States for Comp. lit. That was almost 10 years ago. In that time I’ve had to defend India (and being Indian which is a tricky area by itself) countless times. Ironically enough, it was participating in the ISA in my junior year that convinced me to wash my hands off the brown (Some of the nationalistic tirades I heard at a Screening of “Final Solution” made me feel ill to associate myself with people from the same subcontinent, let alone city).

    But, here I am teaching English to college freshmen in West Virginia, kids who have rarely traveled beyond their state let alone country and some of the questions/statements that come up…well, that’s what I’m there for I suppose.

  37. delirium tremens, #104, please allow me to introduce you to 6-3SpicyBrownScythianMunda, #133. As one of its creators, I think Mr. Munda can show you around the alternate universe you were asking about.

  38. Gaitor, What is your experience with the W. Va. college kids? Obviously, as with any human group, there will be good and bad, but is it “nice but provincial,” or–, what, so far as you can say anything reductionist but largely true? Just curious, and you seem like you’d have a good persepective.

  39. read the racism can be bad in boston? also note that the commenters etc of blog probably tend to associate with non-desi members who are of an above average ses.

  40. A N N A:

    Thank you for sharing. I identify with your tribulations so deeply. 1982, Christian Preschool and, being asked if I lived in a teepee and whether my parents wore feathers in their hair. 1983 onward and, little changed; only now, because I vociferously barked back, “No” (and other variations in A Minor), it would emerge in more subversive, more destructive ways. Racism.

    I hope you never cease shedding light on your experiences, girl. All too many today continue to endure this same predicament. Only those folks don’t have the voice, the space, the mic, the bullypulpit (virtual & otherwise) that you do.

  41. I’m so sorry you had to go thru that ANNA, it sounds really horrific. Your (and other people on this thread) experiences surprise me, because I thought Indian Americans had it much easier. I thought your country has a more liberal attitude towards race and different nationalities since it’s so diverse. It’s amusing to read that some Indian American folks think that Europeans are more liberal in that respect(‘cuz I don’t think they are actually).

  42. Is that ur real name? That’s a kickass tamil name.

    nope.. not my real name..

    looks like another commenter has pointed out already. FOBs and ABDs have varying expectations and that could explain the differing perceptions.. I expect to be treated differently and am prepared for that whereas an ABD who was born here and who grew up here knows no other country / culture would naturally take offence to being treated different just because of skin color and his/her parents’ place of origin.

  43. There have been many comments in this and other threads on hindu parents’ reactions if their kids were to bring home a muslim boy/girl friend.

    It goes both ways. Many muslims I’ve known would rather a saudi-arabian, west-asian (heck even a jew) over a hindu girl/boy friend. The people I’m thinking of considered themselves “liberal” whatever that means.

    And in cases where there was a hindu/muslim wedding, hindu/christian wedding–the weddings were muslim or christian as the case may be. In other words, the hindu party acquiesed. Some of these people were my relatives and I know they officially changed their religion too.

  44. rob (great desi name by the way) – who are you? You insult my blog, have no link to a blog of your own, and tell me to use an Anglo-Saxon name instead of my given Sri Lankan name. My blog is not about ‘pee pee’ and ‘poo poo.’ I did one post about it recently because guess what? My business, Babble Soft, is for new parents! It’s something called business blogging…have you heard about it? I blog about business, babies, and parenthood. I’m one of the few women (let alone South Asian women) who is CEO/Founder of her second high tech venture. In my first company I coordinated the raising of over $15 million in equity financing AND the company is still alive (i.e., survived the dot com crash because interestingly it wasn’t one of those no substance dot com companies). And even though you may think desi kids don’t ‘pee pee’ and ‘poo poo’ they do! 🙂

    BTW – all in jest. You seem to have left several comments in the first 1/2 of the comment thread so I had to say it. 🙂

    Oh and didn’t Bush graduate from Yale? Don’t you wish he’d talk about ‘pee pee’ and ‘poo poo’ more often so he wouldn’t say the other crazy things he does. (BTW, I live in Austin, Texas).

  45. Anna felt comforted by the statement, “well, there’s always India”– a comfort zone where she could go, in theory or practice, and be around people like herself in her own culture. But if we can only feel at home in our “own” country, than how can we expect total acceptance when we go to “their” country? Is everybody entitled to a country populated only by “their” people? Does everybody feel this way, that their country should be a refuge for people of their particular type? What about countries getting more diverse? well, India already is in a way, but diverse with people we’ve known for a thousand years. Is this attitude not an anti-immigration (as long as it doesn’t apply to us) statement in essence, in and of itself? What advantage in diversity obtains, then? Most of the ancestors of the “Euro-Americans” were once tormented outsiders. They accepted they could not go back, and assimilated. Some, like Lebanese and Russian Jews, were quite “different.” Do we really want to be of the “Americans?” I don’t know if we all do. I don’t want to get into the “Scythian” vs. “Dravidian” argument. It does make a difference in how you are looked at, but you have to be very “Scythian” indeed for your desiness not to be a factor. Again, do we really want to be assimilated? Still, civility and citizens’ rights do prevail, regardless of color or ethnicity. As someone said, whether we are “outsiders” or not, we ARE part of the “system.” Why attribute so much power to “trailer park trash”, and what do you mean by that anyway? Are they the gori Untouchables? Actually they are the “essential workers” that have to get their butts to work during a snowstorm while the “professionals” can be well missed for a few days. Anyway, addressing situations like Anna’s childhood drama, isn’t “student exchange” one of the solutions for this sort of problem? While the children in this story were demoralizing and nasty, the comments did smack of typical childish ignorance as well. The teacher was more to fault–to assume that every single person in as large and complex a country as India, would be mourning for Indira Ghandi, is truly pathetic. Did she not even read a simple Newsweek sort of article on the situation before declaring little Anna to be in mourning? Student exchange on a wider scale than hitherto practiced, perhaps, would help. True, it comes later than 5th grade, but better late than never. When a colleague hosted a Russian girl, about 16, she simply could not believe that single families occupied the unremarkable houses she saw everywhere.

  46. i have not really faced any kind of racist incidents of any kind after sometime in grade school. maybe the last one was in high school. Not sure if thats just luck, or its a fuction of living in urban areas since i was 18.

  47. i have not really faced any kind of racist incidents of any kind

    that was supposed to read

    i have not really faced any kind of racist incidents of any kind in the united states

  48. 144 · Aruni

    No problem–I couldn’t resist making that crack after I read your blog-post, but I was just kidding too!

  49. Manju, you should weigh up your stand up prospects against I-Banking or whatever money stuff you’re into.

  50. When a colleague hosted a Russian girl, about 16, she simply could not believe that single families occupied the unremarkable houses she saw everywhere.

    You mean single families as in single parent families or as in nuclear families?