If the Sari Fits: My Struggle With Embracing My Culture
I am a fully Indian woman. At first glance you probably wouldn’t be able to tell. Hazel eyes, pale skin, and short, black (dyed) hair doesn’t exactly scream ‘temple-going, roti-making, sari-wearing Indian girl’. I always thought that I clearly looked of South Asian descent, but as I’ve grown older my cultural ambiguity has become far more prominent and my heritage is a fun little guessing game for any new people I meet.
Despite being a fully Indian woman in my DNA, I feel at a constant crossroads between proudly embracing my heritage or living in a shroud of cultural mystery when someone asks “where are you from?”. This past year I’ve felt stuck in this cultural purgatory where I’m perpetually unsure of who I am.
If nothing else, COVID has allowed us time to reflect. To strip back our identities to the bare bones and reassess everything we thought we knew about ourselves. From our political views, to our daily hairstyles, to our relationships with friends and family; as tough as this year & a half (almost 2) has been, we were granted a much needed reset button. I, for one, used this tumultuous time to do a lot of introspection. An important part of that re-self-discovery was coming to the realisation that my fair skin tone ultimately allows me to live with 'white passing privilege' yet it subsequently disconnects me from my entire culture.
As a child, bi-weekendly trips to my grandparents’/ father’s house would involve the easy task of devouring the most delicious home cooked Indian food (totally unbiased opinion there clearly. soz Gordon Ramsay, you're mediocre at best compared to my Dadima (Grandma)) and having my hair soaked in oil to keep it healthy & shiny. After coming home with silky hair and a full belly, the ‘return from grandma’s’ protocol began - stick my clothes straight in the washing machine & jump into the shower. Any Indian household will know the nightmare that is painstakingly scrubbing your scalp & skin to get the smell of Methi out of your hair & pores.
Upon reflecting on these memories, I realised that the negative stigma surrounding Indian people had subconsciously caused me to deny my culture from a young age, my fair skin allowing me to do so with ease. It’s an innate human need to want to belong, hence the cost of not embracing my ‘Indianness’, as a kid, didn’t feel too steep. Even getting older and feeling glad when people said I didn't "look Indian" was all a product of the instinctive longing to fit in. Why was I more happy for people to think I was Latina, or Greek, or Italian, than I was when they (rarely) guessed I was Indian? It was so easy to be a chameleon, that I got used to it, which ended up isolating me from the culture to which I should belong. Is it too late to start learning and adopting my culture? Do I even want to do that? Would that seem superficial? I may have not learnt how to speak Punjabi or fasten a sari, but I sure as hell adopted the Indian manner of worrying about what everyone thinks of you.
“Where are you from?” feels like a loaded question these days, my immediate & far too well rehearsed response being “I’m actually fully Indian, I can’t speak Punjabi or cook the food though, I’m the worst Indian ever haha”. What is it they say? That some people use humour as a defense mechanism? Well this is me doing exactly that. I want to beat people to the punch, which essentially means undermining my heritage out of fear that they would either point out just how alien I seem to the Indian culture or would have snap judgements about my life. And trust me, these are all too common reactions. My knee-jerk response being a testament to the internalised rejection I felt from the culture I was born into. When your skin tone makes you so culturally ambiguous to others, how can you not feel as equally as confused yourself?
Although the colour of my skin allows me to live under the guise of white passing privilege, one glance at my surname & the very letters that represent years of strength, hardship, family, and love could be the difference between a 'We are delighted to welcome you...' and a ‘We regret to inform you…’. My fair skin alters my perception of what it really means to be a 'Person of Colour'. How can I be a POC when I have been granted an invisibility cloak my entire life? I haven’t experienced the racism that darker skinned Indian people have. I haven't experienced the consequences of systems that are rigged against POC. Does this invalidate my dedication to fighting for the rights of POC? Does this invalidate me as a person of colour myself?
How come I feel imposter syndrome within my own culture? Being othered by fellow Indian friends & family members with darker skin or a stricter upbringing than mine left me wondering where I fit in. Being called a ‘Coconut’ by Indian friends stung. “Brown on the outside & white on the inside”. Too ethnic for the white kids but too white for the ethnic kids. There isn’t exactly a broad spectrum along this line to comfortably set up camp. Who and what dictates how connected one is with their culture? Not only that, but who dictates how connected one should be with their culture? Would going to the Gurdwara (Sikh place of worship) every week and learning to cook Aloo Gobi (you’re a real one if you get the reference x) have earned me a badge of honour with Indians everywhere? Would that have certified me as an ‘official’ Indian girl? Even if I did those things growing up, my skin colour wouldn’t have changed and the precedent of colourism would remain the same. “You’re Indian?? Wow you don’t look it!” would still be the party line from strangers when they ask the grand ol’ money question.
Ultimately though, it all comes down to prejudice. Slowly but surely it feels like the world is getting there, obviously there are leaps and bounds to go. But as long as we keep thinking before we speak, actively trying to unlearn prejudice, not to mention being open to admitting our mistakes and always trying to grow, that’s all anyone can really ask for.
As for me, through my personal reflection and discoveries, I’ve learnt that identity as a whole, is an ever-changing mess of complex emotions, facts, opinions, and everything that comes along with it. And cultural connection is no different. Nevertheless, I know now that none of these things make me any less Indian.
Also I do make a banging chicken curry, just FYI, if anyone’s ever in the neighbourhood xxxxxxx