The second she sees someone new walking towards her lunch table, she immediately begins to pack up the lunch that her grandmother had so lovingly made for her. She rushes to finish her mouthful of aloo paratha before — too late. The other person is sitting down across from her with a pleasant smile plastered on his face. She already knows what’s coming. Not again…
“What’s your name?” he asks, and she groans inwardly, dreading the process of repeating her name over and over until he settles for some appalling attempt at the true pronunciation. She goes through the motions anyway, but her words are pointed — she can’t bring herself to feel anything other than exasperation.
“You’re not hungry?” he asks after a brief pause, watching her stare longingly at her closed lunchbox.
“No,” she lies. “I had a sandwich.”
Every question he asks sets her on edge. Her mind races as she searches for the perfect answers, ones that just fit the bill without giving too much away.
Come on, get yourself together, she tells herself. You don’t want him to think you’re too Indian.
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There are always going to be stereotypes surrounding different groups — be it cultural, racial, gender-based, or anything else relating to one’s identity — and Indians are just as susceptible to these stereotypes as anyone else. These stereotypes surround every aspect of the Indian lifestyle and culture, propagated by blatant misunderstandings and inflated to mock Indian culture and heritage. We commonly get asked if we speak Indian or Hindu, neither of which are Indian languages. We get told that our food smells bad, and people try to speak to us in exaggerated accents that many of us don’t even have. And when it comes to portrayals in the media, the stereotypes are only further reinforced with characters like Baljeet, Ravi, and Apu, because people can’t deal with the cognitive dissonance of having their preconceived notions invalidated.
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Seeing all of the misunderstandings surrounding Indian culture and all of the thinly veiled insults we have to face for simply existing, the irony of the rampant consumption of Hinduism in today’s popular culture should not be lost on anyone. Everyone is familiar with yoga, an ancient Hindu spiritual practice that has found its way into gyms and studios across the United States. Along with yoga came the Om symbol, which was sold on necklaces, bracelets, and even tattoos such that it has nearly lost its meaning as a symbol of spirituality and peace and seems to more strongly represent the hipster than the Hindu. Then it was “manifestation,” the act of channeling one’s intentions towards a particular event, taken directly from the Law of Attraction in Hinduism and eagerly lapped up by content creators all over social media.
Why can these spiritual concepts “fly” in American culture, but none of the other practices that fall under Hinduism? Why can others buy trendy Om bracelets and get henna tattoos, but when an Indian person did the same not even 10 years ago, it was “weird” or “different”? We grew up feeling as though our culture would only be accepted when it was convenient for everyone else to do so. At this point, it seems almost impossible to separate concepts like manifestation or yoga from popular culture, and it seems pointless to try to address this appropriation; still, it’s hard not to be reminded of a time when our generation and the generations before us were goaded into abandoning the practices that have now been deemed acceptable by the rest of the world.
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These feelings of shame are not only perpetuated by those outside of the Indian culture, but also by our own families, specifically in terms of our appearances. Within Indian culture, there is a near-idolization of Eurocentric beauty standards, which manifests itself primarily in an obsession with “fair” skin, to the point where products are marketed to lighten the skin and “fair” skin is praised in popular culture. And in order for us to live up to these standards, we are often pressured and scolded and scrutinized from a young age by our family members, who hope that somehow, our coffee-colored skin will turn to cream.
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As children of immigrants, we have both learned that settling in the United States requires a give and take of culture. In order to fit in, immigrants tend to have to lose at least a degree of the culture they grew up with in order to blend in with everyone else. To some extent, this is a necessary process in order to be able to understand the new customs and ways of life they are encountering. But it is also important that they still be able to retain our culture, if only in private settings, and be free to express themselves and embrace their heritage when they feel like it. However, it is all too common that Indian people are made to feel ashamed of their culture and religious practices as a result of the ignorance and insensitivity of the society around them.
Why is this an issue?
Growing up, we were plagued by internalized racism and felt incredibly uncomfortable in our own skin. We were expected to become “whitewashed,” to lose any aspect of ourselves that did not fall under “textbook” American culture. And while the dialogue surrounding cultural expression has become more accepting and understanding, Indian issues are rarely spoken about, even as they are incredibly present in society.
It’s not that we’re expecting people to express their interest in Hindu festivals or go out of their way to honor Indian culture — we just want a society where we’re not expected to be something that we’re not. It shouldn’t seem as though being Indian is a fault, something that we should work around or try to cover up to please others. Being Indian isn’t anyone’s fault, and it most certainly isn’t ours, but it is the fault of society that we weren’t okay with it for some time. And while society can benefit from becoming more accepting, so can we, as we work towards reclaiming our pride in our Indian culture.
Reclaiming Indian culture:
We always felt a tension in our own skin. We felt uncomfortable when bringing up our cultural background, and we thought we were to blame for who we were, as if it were our fault that we were Indian. If anything we said about our culture made anyone uncomfortable or confused, it was our issue, not theirs. Now, we say, no! We dare you to say something against it! You won’t make us feel uncomfortable in our own skin. Our food is delicious, our tan skin is gorgeous, and our pride is endless. And nothing can take that away ever again.
“What kind of sandwich,” he asks.
“A—” she stops herself. She looks at the aloo paratha hiding in her lunch box, and then up at the boy, sitting with his head slightly tilted as he awaits her response. She thinks to herself, why am I doing this? He’s not hiding, so why should I?
“Did I say sandwich? I meant aloo paratha.”
“What’s that?” He peeks over at her lunch box. She pulls out the potato-stuffed flatbread and hands him a piece.
“My grandma made it. Here, try some.” He examines the bread and nibbles at it curiously. His eyes light up, and he stuffs the whole thing in his mouth, licking his fingers after.
“Hey, this is amazing!”
She beams. “Right?”
They exchange a small smile. See? she tells herself. That wasn’t so hard. She sits up a little taller, lifts her head higher, and feels a new surge of pride in who she is.