Tuesday, April 2, 2013

"Sometimes, I forget she's Indian."

Not white, not brown.

I'm glad I don't have an accent, having an accent means that I can't have friends here. But I like accents. I like the way the tongue rolls around words, so ripe and full of lust and love that centuries have honed into perfection.

Stuck in the middle, I forget that I'm Indian. How can I be Indian? My language is going to die with me, or with some people in my generation. Think my kids will be interested? Think my probably half something kids will be interested in a language that no one cares about for the sake of art? I'd like to hope.

I make food like my mom does, but I'm the only one who eats it. People like butter chicken. Do I look like butter chicken? Is that what my culture is reduced to? What is my culture? Is the whole of India reduced to a food, an accent, a movie industry?

India is a country of juxtapositions, and sweetheart, I have picked up on that and made it my own.

1 comment:

  1. I love this! And I have been fighting against the idea such stereotypes all throughout my existence. What it means to be an Indian, an Indian girl, an Indian woman, etc. There are no right answers, are there?

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