The Truth about Identity

Identity.

It’s a loaded word when you think about what it entails; there are so many layers to it. Your personal identity includes the way you see yourself, and it’s intertwined with your self-image. It is important to each of us because it affects the way we feel about ourselves and how we behave in challenging situations. I’m writing this post because I’ve been thinking about my identity a lot, especially in the context of my husband, Mat’s, over the past few months. Mat requested I get him the African Ancestry genetic test for Christmas when I asked what he wanted a few months ago. He knows his parents moved here from Jamaica when they were young, but he doesn’t know where his forefathers came from.

I’ve thought about identity a lot ever since I met him because I was falling in love with someone who wasn’t Indian. I was worried that marrying someone who wasn’t Indian would make me lose my culture. Instead, I’ve noticed that it makes me want to understand the traditions at a deeper level so that I can explain it in a way that he and later, Ayaan, can understand and appreciate. I know it sounds somewhat counter-intuitive, but ever since my family moved to the U.S. from India, I always feel like I’m struggling to keep up with Indian culture, especially pop culture. When we first arrived at the suburbs of Pennsylvania, the other kids in my 5th-grade class made fun of my accent and imitated me when I turned my back to them. The British brought English with them when they colonized India so I, like most other kids in our social circles, attended an “English-medium” School before coming here. I knew the words, I just said them a little differently.

After being one of the popular kids in my class in India, I told myself they were teasing, and that they were my friends. I didn’t fully realize I was being ridiculed until another kid from India transferred to my school, and I saw how they treated him. I remember going home and repeating what I heard on TV until my accent sounded more like the kids I saw on there. Slowly, not only my accent but my language started fading. It wasn’t an active effort on my part since we always spoke Gujarati in the house. I know I should learn Gujarati beyond the 4th-grade level I was at when I left India, but I haven’t. I can still communicate with all of my family and to be honest, I’ve been rather lazy about it. All I know is that my Gujarati instantaneously improves as soon as I step off the plane in Ahmadabad, but I haven’t gone back in 7-years this January.

When it comes to traditions, I pick and choose what I want to celebrate. I love celebrating Diwali most of all the holidays. I remember we used to light firecrackers in the streets, on the terrace, pretty much EVERYWHERE, and it was AWESOME! I don’t get to do that over here, but I still like to celebrate. It’s the festival of lights, so I love putting lights up in some way, even if it’s just the flameless candles lighting up the stairs to our home and ordering Indian food to the house that night like we did this year.

Now, after Ayaan has come along, I love celebrating Janmashtami too. Dressing him up as baby Krishna is something I look forward to all year long. Lord Krishna was the human incarnation of Lord Vishnu, the preserver or sustainer aspect of God in Hinduism’s triumvirate. He fulfilled the premonition that said the 8th child born to Devaki, who was the sister of the wicked King Kansa, would possess divine powers and defeat him.

When I was in India, I loved celebrating Navratri (9 days of dancing late into the night) and Uttrayan (Kite festival) as well, but it’s just not the same celebrating here in the US in my opinion. Mat thinks that I’m more American than Indian just like he’s more American than Jamaican, but what he doesn’t realize is that I have more in common with his parents regarding our immigrant experience then I do with him. His dad and I were laughing and bonding over how excited we were when the more advanced toilet flushes came to our respective homelands during Christmas. Knowing the stories of my ancestors makes my identity that much richer. I have the blood of revolutionary leaders, progressive thinkers, teachers, innovators, loyal supporters, and most importantly, strong women, flowing through my veins. The caste or community I come from were originally the teachers or wise men whose quest it was to understand the true meaning of the Hindu scriptures and teach others. What I like the most is they were all different, but they were essentially good people whose primary objective was to ensure their basic necessities were met and to keep their family together.

I think these are the types of questions that Mat deliberates. We’ve had lengthy conversations about why he wants to know more about his roots. It frustrates him that the people who enslaved his ancestors are still able to rob him of his identity today. The consequences of robbing his predecessors of their identity generations ago impact him in a psychosomatic manner today. I can empathize with this because even though I know my roots, it still bothers me that the British robbed India of much of its wealth and showcased our jewels in their museums as treasures from their conquests. They were also the masters of the “divide and conquer” strategy; they socially engineered the cruel enforcement of the caste system with the inception of the “untouchables” as well as the divisive division between Hindus and Muslims. It’s not that these issues didn’t exist at all before, but the British weaponized it all in the quest for more money and power. I remember Mat telling me once that knowing his story only as far back as moving from Jamaica makes him feel like he only knows the small branches of his deep-rooted tree. He often fantasizes about being a descendant of Queen Nanny of the Maroons from Jamaica who valiantly led the forces in opposition to the British in the 18th century.

I hope these test results coupled with visits to the areas where Mat’s forefathers were robbed of their identities will help him make some peace with what transpired after that. While he can’t change the past, I firmly believe that knowing the root of his family’s fortitude and resilience may inspire him to unlock his potential further. “Because of them, We can.” His ancestors’ strength and sacrifice brought him and his family into this world; that’s a story worth knowing in my opinion. It’s not about the detailed content of the story as much as it is about how it’s told. I know I can’t wait to take Ayaan to India and help him develop a love for the beauty and imperfections of my culture and motherland. In the same vein, I want Mat to be able to explain the rich history of his people to Ayaan, the good and the bad.

One of the first things I want to do when we get to India is taking Ayaan to my maternal grandfather’s statue in Khambhat, the town where I was born. I never had the opportunity to meet my grandfather, but I think we would share a strong bond in our desire to work toward creating a more equal and just society. We wouldn’t agree on everything because I know he preferred the measured approach whereas I want to work to manifest the future we wish to see today. “If the eventual goal is the same, then what’s the holdup? Let’s tackle the obstacle and keep it moving,” I imagine myself saying to him. I can also imagine Mat and Ayaan traveling together to Jamaica and wherever else to fill in the gaps of their shared history once he’s a little older. These are all just fantasies as of now, but what I know I don’t want for Ayaan is to feel like he has to choose between being African American or Indian American. Both cultures are rich and a part of his identity. I want him to love and appreciate both.

There is also a dark underbelly to the concept of identity that we don’t talk or hear about too often, but it’s something worth noting and contemplating. The drive to protect your identity can be overpowering. Sometimes we can get so caught up in this that we neglect other important things: like being open-minded, truth-seeking, and kind to others. It’s hard to think clearly and objectively about something that you identify strongly with, and I think this is the driving force behind a lot of conflict in the world. Sometimes people take labels and end up confusing them with their identity.  Democrat, Republican, White, Black, and the list goes on and on. I’ve personally been struggling with keeping an open mind when it comes to identity and politics as of late. The perfect example of this darkness is bringing religion into an online forum or conversation. It can quickly degenerate into a religious war because it taps into the other person’s identity. It is an enlightening moment when you understand that your identity is who you are at your core before the world has its way with you and cloaks you with labels.

I am currently in the process of uncloaking myself of the labels that hold me back. It can be painful yet empowering to do so. Writing my previous post about my MS was a part of my uncloaking. What are some labels that hold you up from being your true self? Share them in the comments below.✌🏽🙏🏽