Taz’s post today had one of the strangest statistics I’d ever seen — that 25% of South Asian Americans had, in 1990, identified themselves on the U.S. census as “white,” while 5% identified themselves as “black.”
It made me think of a post by progressive Muslim blogger Ali Eteraz from last week, where he discussed his own variant of an identity term crisis, not on racial but religious terms:
I onced asked a little kid I know what he was. He was like, um, er, I am a Pakistani-Muslim-American. I was like, what the hell, thatÂ’s messed up, little kids shouldnÂ’t have to hyphenate their identities like that, man.
Then one day I was typing up a post and I was like dammit I am really tired of having to write out the whole word “American-Muslim” or “American-Islam.” It’s just tiring.
So I decided that we needed a new ONE WORD term to call ourselves. . . In the end, I decided IÂ’m going to use “AmeriMuslim” – it is easy to understand, and it sounds like “A merry Muslim.” So from now on, thatÂ’s what IÂ’m going to use as my identity, thatÂ’s what IÂ’m going to teach nieces and nephews to say, and thatÂ’s what IÂ’m going to use even in my actual publications.(link)
Given that Ali Eteraz is (I believe) of Pakistani descent, my first thought is to say, “well, why not South Asian?” If we want to limit it to just one word, why not “desi” or “deshi”? Of course, in a sense I already know the answer: if religion is the most important aspect of one’s identity, one obviously privileges it over ethnicity. (Analogously, I also know a fair number of conservative Sikhs who are adamantly “Sikh American” and not “Indian American” or “South Asian American.”) Continue reading
My favorite way to waste a lazy Sunday is with one fat newspaper and several cups of milky coffee. After a phonecall from home bearing bad news, those props were replaced by this iBook and several pint glasses of milky coffee + alcohol, on the rocks. That was one slightly bright spot on an otherwise bleak day; what I was chugging was delicious and that’s because it was by my design. Sort of. Okay fine, the drink that I want to take credit for right now is but a slight variation on the powerhouse “Martin Blanco” cocktail I’ve been fond of forever at Tryst (iced vanilla vodka + espresso + kahlua + amaretto + milk…shaken violently). Amaretto di Saronno was my Father’s favorite liqueur and I didn’t want to taste it on a day when I was already glum. I improvised.
