When I was younger, the question from kids on the playground was “What are you?” I understood the meaning and dutifully replied, “I’m Indian.” In high school, it was a bit more polite. “Where are you from?” My answer remained essentially the same. Later, the question evolved into something intended to be complementary. “You look so unique, where are you from?” Or, “That’s a beautiful name, where is it from?” My answer varied, depending on who was asking, the setting, and admittedly, my mood. “I’m from Chicago,” was the answer if I was anywhere but Chicago and it was a stranger asking me. “It’s an Arabic name,” without further explanation. Other times, people would randomly start speaking to me in Spanish, and I’d respond with a blank look because I didn’t know what they were saying – I don’t speak Spanish. There were the comparisons to Jasmine from Aladdin or Salma Hayek. I realize they were meant to be complimentary even if completely off-the-mark. The assumption was always that I’m something “other” than American, presumably because of the color of skin, hair and eyes.
As a kid and like most kids, more than anything, I wanted to be seen as “normal”. However, my definition of normal was “Caucasian American”. Yet, looking back at my group of friends in middle school and high school, all of them were immigrants or first generation in the U.S. In college, I whole-heartedly embraced my Indian side, found a group of Indian-American friends, surrounded myself in all things Indian, and joined the Indian Club. When I joined the workforce, I slowly started appreciating and perhaps even celebrating my other-ness. I talked about traditions we had at home, holidays my family observed (as a Muslim Indian), and shared homemade Indian food with colleagues. I enjoyed being exotic to my American, aka Caucasian, boyfriends and their families.
Eventually I traveled back to India (after 20+ years) where, much to my surprise, I was seen as more American than Indian. I spoke Urdu with an American accent. I dressed in primarily American clothes, which is what I felt most comfortable in. Still, India felt like home (because it had been for my formative years), albeit a home that I was no longer familiar with, but still home. The smells, the food, the people all came flooding back. But everywhere I went, I was acutely aware of the fact that I was not seen as Indian. Just like in the States, where I was acutely aware of my Indian-ness.
And that is where I stand: considered not quite Indian enough by Indians (like my parents and people who have recently migrated to the States), and considered non-American by Americans, aka Caucasians.
However, at this point in my life, I have lived in the U.S. for 80% of my life. I see myself as primarily American with an Indian background. I can honestly say that I am more out of touch with my Indian culture than I wish to be. When people ask me where I am from, I tend to answer “Chicago” or explain that most recently I lived in California. If pushed, as in “No but where are you really from?” I might explain that my parents are from India, but I grew up in America.
When I ask others around me how they see me, they say Indian or as my husband puts it American-Indian (he doesn’t mean Native American) to indicate that he sees me more as American than Indian. This then begs the question, what makes someone more American than whatever their native country might be?
These are some of the things that I think make me American:
- I’ve lived here more than 80% of my life
- I’m a US citizen
- I love apple pie (seriously)
- I speak English nearly perfectly (I studied English in college and have been an ESL tutor)
- I believe in freedom of choice
- I believe everyone is entitled to equal rights
- I always tip 20%
- I love going to Costco even if I don’t need anything
- I love going to Target more
- I enjoy a good hotdog or burgers on July 4th (or anytime, really)
- I pay my taxes
- I’m constantly pursuing happiness
- I’m over-weight
- I live with a lot of luxuries like an air-conditioned home, a car I own and drive everywhere
These are some things that make me more Indian:
- I speak Urdu (even if with an American accent)
- I love Indian food (though this is a questionable factor since I know many non-Indians who love Indian food)
- I cook Indian food
- I love hot weather (attributed to my growing up in India)
- I own a slew of Indian clothes
- I love colors, bright colors
- I work hard and am career-oriented
- My skin tone and the color of my hair
The second list was harder to form, which would indicate I am more American than Indian. And if I base it on the fact that I’ve lived here 80% of my life and am a US citizen, then what are my parents? They have lived the States longer than I have and for a greater percentage of their lives. If I were to ask them, they would say they are Indian, although both are US citizens. Obviously, it is not as simple as a couple of lists of random qualities or traits that define a person. But, how does one decide if a person is American or non-American? And does it matter? If you run into me on the street and ask me “What are you?” (not likely to happen, I realize), I may just need to respond “Human”. Because, ultimately, that is the only true identity any of us have.