(17, NJ, USA) Anonymous - Growing Up Desi
Growing up as a Desi girl, the word I hated most was "unique." Hearing the word "unique" made me gag. I was sick of hearing my loved ones use this word to assure me that being unique is great. Being "unique" didn’t feel so monumental in my eyes and just felt like another synonym for "abnormal." "Unique" was usually used to describe my ethnic last name. Just writing my name on homework assignments or hearing anyone mispronounce my name made me cringe internally. I hated my last name and I hated my culture because I felt like an outcast, being the only Desi in my school. My family attempted to convince me that our last name and culture are "unique" — we shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I didn’t want to be unique; I wanted to be normal. I recall being 10 years old and begging my mom to visit the Macy’s down the street instead of the second-hand Indian attire shop. We were shopping for a traditional Indian dress to wear to my cousin’s wedding festivities, but I wanted to wear a "normal American" dress like the girls on TV. My mom said I had to wear an Indian dress because we were attending a cultural wedding — not your average American wedding. Instead of buying a pretty pink dress that looked like a dress Barbie would wear, my mom bought a cheap lehenga with the ugliest shade of purple and cheap bright yellow rhinestones coating the whole dress. I hated how it looked and how the cheap rhinestones constantly stabbed me. I hated the bindi my mom pasted between my bushy eyebrows. It reminded me of the instances when my classmates would draw a dot using red Crayola markers on their foreheads and point at me. I remember asking my mom to wear a jacket despite the 80-degree weather in the summer of Florida. My mom asked if I was embarrassed to wear my dress. I lied and said that I was just cold. After arriving at the wedding, I saw my cousin wearing a pretty white and pink dress and I envied her dress. I thought she looked pretty wearing a conventional dress, but I felt abnormal. Self-hatred continued to follow me until I started high school. At this juncture, I took note of how large the student population was and how much diversity there was compared to elementary and middle school. I even noticed that there were other Desi students. I felt accepted and felt that I belonged at this school. Despite it just being a few of us, I started to feel less lonely and self-conscious about my culture. I started to lose all self-consciousness after noticing a rise in Indian and Desi actors in the media. One specific piece of media that resonated with me is the TV show "Degrassi: The Next Generation." I remember 12-year-old me watching season 8 and 2’s new characters, Sav and Ali Bhandari, were introduced. I felt so much excitement after learning that both the characters and actors are Indo-Guyanese. They shared the same struggles with cultural acceptance and family conflicts as I did, so I found characters I could relate to. I had finally seen someone who looked like me on TV after years of seeing the same recurring faces who had the "perfect American lifestyle." I felt a sense of normalcy. Not only did I feel normal, I learned to accept myself for who I am and I learned to love and appreciate my culture. Learning how to accept myself helped me build my confidence both socially and academically. Gaining more confidence assisted me in befriending others and building relationships with my teachers. Most importantly, I no longer felt ashamed to tell others my name. My last name is an important characteristic that defines who I am and where my parents came from, so there is no reason for me to be ashamed.
