We are only humans.
from June 2020
HUMAN → Muslim | American| Indian| Female | … |
Navigating our world with double and multi consciousness is something that is addressed quite openly now. Much of which can be attributed to the internet, social media, and increased representation in media and the arts.
Growing up, however, the immigrant experience tended to take place behind closed doors and within the safe confined spaces of our own communities. We didn’t share what it was like being Indian American or Muslim American or Muslim Indian American outside of these constructs.
The feathers of assimilation were not to be ruffled.
This created complex children and teens, those that conformed to their parents ideals and community expectations; oftentimes adopting fervent religious beliefs as part of that identity as this was a binding principle of many immigrant groups.
The expectations were high, the spirit was limited.
This was the norm. Then, there were outliers — the rebels of these communities — the ones that completely resisted and rejected — harming their spirit further in a form of self-hate.
As maturity and experience set in, the paths were varied. I believe most have carved their own path, conservative or liberal or whatever combination / rejection of how they were raised, they have made it their own. You can run, but at some point — you have to confront yourself. And a huge component of yourself is family, ancestry, upbringing, community. The cellular imprint.
South Asians are privileged minorities in America. Challenges and discrimination not to be dismissed, but we have had advantages in the macro system. Nevertheless, it is a struggle to be perceived as fully American living in America.
Interestingly, when I travel internationally is when I feel most American. The quick reality of just how American I am is evident when I am in UK, Italy, France, Spain, Norway, Sweden, South Africa, Uganda, and especially when I am in India.
The dichotomy exists: what I feel and what others see and perceive.
Walking the markets of Cape Town with my mother and sister, the incessant stares and inquiries, over the course of two weeks, of where we were from fed us up to the point that my mom finally blurted out “Earth!” We are from Earth!
The context of the questions is natural. There is no judgment. In Cape Town, where the communities are still quite segregated as a residual effect of apartheid, we carried ourselves like tourists. Like Americans. But our appearance was similar to the Cape Malay people that had ancestry from India during Dutch East India Co. days.
We explored the Malay neighborhoods as well and ate at the delicious Malay restaurants, taking in their beautiful mosque and watching the sweet children play outside the houses. We sought out falafel in the Jewish neighborhood. When traveling for a prolonged period, you tend to crave familiar food that is close to what you eat at home. Growing up on a variety of Middle Eastern food given our extended Muslim community, of course the Jewish deli was that for us. The deli owner had his own notions however. There was obvious confusion and apprehension noticeably on his face. He didn’t utter one word. He just watched us, almost like he was watching a movie that he wasn’t sure he liked yet. My mother, sister, and I with our infectious giggling and carefree-ness were hungry and excited. Clearly picking up on the sense that we’ve crossed a typical boundary, my mom (yet again) smiled and told him, “we are cousins.” No response. He handed us our food order, which was delicious!
His eyes were kind, and I sensed he liked the movie. He just didn’t know what to do with it. I often wonder the impact of that one interaction, if any. My mom was right. He was just like us. We were just like him.
The more we see our similarities in each other, the more we can go about this world as one. I have love for my faith, culture, and upbringing, while also having confronted the parameters that limited me. Embracing the multi-faceted parts of myself is all I know. These complexities created the person that I am. The quest to be something else or more like someone else is a losing game. As long as I stay true to my spirit, the label doesn’t have weight. I am only human. We are only humans.
