Let’s cut straight to the chase, shall we?
As exciting as it is, to belong to two very diverse and different cultures, I know for one-it can be terribly taxing!
Born of parents who belong to two very different communities, I grew up singing hymns at Church and chanting Shlokas and Mantras at Temples. Christmas and Diwali are celebrated with equal pomp and gusto in my house. I can quote from the Bible and the Bhagvad Gita at a second’s notice. I don a Ghaghra-choli with the same ease as I can pull off a frilly, lacey frock. And don’t even get me started on the number of languages I can comprehend. My palate is expected to be very malleable. Well, if the North Indians are admirers of the quintessential ‘Chapati’ or ‘Roti’ and the South Indians are supposed ‘Rice’ fanatics, then I ought to weigh a couple of quintals more than what I already do!
My house can get pretty comical at times. Watching my Hindu father assemble the Christmas Tree or assisting my Catholic mother while she prepares tantalising sweets for Diwali are some of those times. Aah…the things people do for love. Questions are asked in one language and answered in another. A confusing melange of dialects can be used to accomplish as simple a task as fetching something of the kitchen shelf. Meal times are a complicated affair. The entire Western Ghats may come and dine with us. And they won’t find anything missing at the table.
It’s a lovable riot, I tell you.
But deep down, beneath my wisecracks on multiculturalism, the ethnic mosaic, the canvas of a myriad of hues, the affected regality and the suave nonchalance-lies a vat. No, that vat isn’t filled with anything. It is absolutely empty. Vacant. Bare. Untainted. Untouched. Void.
It needs filling. Oh! So desperately.
Get the gist?
The bewilderment of lacking a sense of belonging is borderline lethal. Take it from me. It ain’t rocket science, sonny boy. There is an intricately established link between an individual’s sense of identity and the paramount need to BELONG. And in such cases, I’d rather not be spoiled for choice, with an array of options to choose from. This religion, or that? This language or that one? This food or that? This outfit or no, maybe that one?
The phase of adolescence is known to be a very tumultuous time for a growing individual. Throw in a multi-racial background, and you have got yourself a truly disgruntled teen. Questions of ‘Identity’ and of the ‘Self’ tend to arise during these formative years. The ‘What’s’ and the ‘Why’s’ also tend to crop up during this phase. The intersection of these questions (All Hail Venn Diagrams!) raises yet another stream of pertinent questions, for the mixed-race child. Which path should I follow? Wait…Should I follow a prescribed path?
Paying homage to multiple cultures was a thing I gladly enjoyed as a child. But as I transitioned to teenhood, I started feeling fickle. It’s all very nice to respect different cultures, rituals and communities. But after a certain point of time, one starts feeling shoddy. Fake. Unrealistic. Made-up. You get what I am saying?
It is rather enriching to have such a diverse genetic makeup and heritage. But we folks often feel very different from what we appear. There are a number of challenges faced by mixed-race children and teens. Siblings may look different and have very different tastes. Your ethnicity makes a good dinner-time discussion, making you feel objectified. There is undue pressure to ‘pick a side’. Identifying with one side of the family, comes with a torrent of guilt and second-thoughts. Family dynamics tends to get complicated. Cultural conflicts usually arise when the extended family comes into the picture. I for one know, that there are three sorts of relatives-pertaining to mixed race families.
Those who make you feel more than welcome- Now, these kind of folks are painfully aware of the challenges of being mixed race. And they can go out of their way to help you navigate the complicated drama of family get-togethers. They will ensure that your dietary preferences are taken into account. They will make an allowance for the fact that you are not quite that proficient in the language. But they will make everyone aware of these noble deeds that they are undertaking for you. As sweet as they may be, these kinda relatives tend to remind you of your mixed-race heritage and oftentimes make you feel that you need help to ‘Fit-In’. Well, in a sentence- they give sympathy where they ought to give empathy.
Those who treat you just the same- Now these are my favourite variant of family members. They don’t make you feel different in any way. No painful references of the ‘Other Parent’ is thrown your way. You just feel at home with them. No special attention, no special treatment. But at the same time, no indifference. They will assume you eat the same food as them, speak the same language as them, wear the same clothes as them. Just for the simple fact, well…you are them!
Those who make the distinction a bit too rigid- Let me tell you upfront. These are the worst kind. They scrutinise you and will not turn down an opportunity to make you feel, well…different (read unwanted). Each action, thought and word of yours is scrutinised and scanned for traces of the ‘Other Side’. And woe to those who are caught by them. Beware, Here comes the hour-long lecture on how disrespectful you are to certain parts of your heritage and how you shall be disowned from Grandma’s will if you don’t establish your loyalty, the right way.
And while your cousin is out there blissfully playing catch, you are poked and prodded. Each square inch of your skin is examined, your hair is ruffled and checked. You gait becomes a subject of intense conversation. The colour of your skin, the colour of your eyes, the shape of your face, the texture of your hair-everything is duly noted. For the purpose of drawing notes and figuring out how many percentages of you comes from which ancestor. How much of you is like us, and how much is like them. You feel like a prize-poodle!
But don’t let my sentiment deter you. Multi-ethnic backgrounds have their own wonderful advantages. You can flit between multiple identities in minutes. Your wider palate allows for a wider range of interests. Your ability to accept and comply with multiple cultures, makes adaptability almost second nature. You tend to take to a different language or lifestyle very easily. For the simple fact that, you are practically ductile. And because you may have never been able to align yourself to a certain race, you are more accepting and can identify with anyone who comes your way. You get the best of both the worlds. Surround yourself with people who celebrate your diversity. And besides the lamentations and the downsides of being multi-ethnic, I would rather be so, than anything else in the world.
I speak (or rather write) on behalf of all my compatriots. I litigate for my tribe, the fence walkers-for my beloved kinsmen-those torn between the two polar opposites. Those being bludgeoned for having an opinion. Those afraid of hurting sentiments. Those nodding in fake allegiance. Those in search of the metaphorical HOME!
And whilst on this daunting journey- the allegorical search for myself, I wish to fill the aforementioned vat. With just the right ingredients. To prepare a nourishing concoction. One that shall invigorate me. One that shall allow me to love myself for what I am. One that shall make me realise that I don’t need a community, because I have myself. The world is my oyster and I for one, revel in being a confluence of cultures!
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