February 26th, 2020 | Written By - The MIX Affinity Group: Natalie Monga '22, Ria Raj '21, and Kechante Baker '21
Which box do you mark off on those standardized tests when they ask you about your race? Seems like a simple question, right? For the longest time, I thought it was. I looked at the color of my skin in a mirror compared to that of the people around me, and it was clear that I was white. But was I? Has race ever been as simple as the color of one’s skin? No, no it wasn’t and it never will be. It took me until halfway through middle school to understand that every time I checked off “caucasian” I was ignoring half of my identity. But then again, I’m not “mixed.” Biologically, yes, okay, my dad is Indian and my mom is white. However it became apparent to me that in our weekly MIX meetings, something was off. I didn’t belong there. I couldn’t relate to most of the topics. I was oblivious to the common struggles others seemed to have. So where do I belong? What group is there for me to join? There isn’t one. I don’t fit in any of the convenient boxes that society wants to place me in. So which box am I supposed to mark off when I’m asked about my race? In a world that operates on categorizing everything in boxes, I find myself boxless.
“Because it was dangerous to be brown after 2001.” I heard this only last year but the moment I did, I instantly flashed back to years of that feeling. It felt as though I had grown up with it ingrained in my brain. These words scared me beyond belief, but maybe I scared those around me even more. I’m American too, aren’t I? I’m the child of two Indian immigrants. Maybe this feeling is the necessary baggage to being a first-generation American. Maybe I’m supposed to receive comments about my “incorrect pronunciation” and “demonic religion.” No Suzy, I’m never going to understand colloquial American English and I’m not Christian. Maybe I would feel safer in my own skin if my family had never left India, instead choosing to live our lives surrounded by others who look just as we do. I’d serve no danger and carry no baggage. But we didn’t do that. My parents had every right to immigrate to the states but every day those around me question that right. I’m not just Indian and I’m not just American. I will never, ever be able to fit into either institution. I guess one could refer to it as my dual loyalties. Scary, right?
Have you ever looked in the mirror and realized that your skin doesn’t match your personality? Have you ever gone into an interview and been told that you sound “proper” for a black person? Have you ever had to seperate your home life from your school life and friend life? I did not want to be the “oreo” that my friends saw me as or be put into the box that society felt I needed to be put in. I just wanted to be me. The way that I talk around my black peers shouldn’t have to change just because they feel that I’m not black enough to “hang.” With English not being my first language, I had to copy what I heard around me. In my early years of school, it became apparent that the way I spoke was “incorrect” to the black community and so I changed my slang to fit it. This is also called code-switching. When I am in certain environments, I am forced to code-switch so that I won’t make anyone uncomfortable. Unfair, right?
How does one fathom having multiple identities but not feeling comfortable with a single one? We can discuss to never-ending extents, but none of it will change society’s perceptions of us. The world places us in boxes without our permission. The world mocks parts of our cultures and appropriates the rest. Yet the world expects us to conform to its norms. We’re forced into battles against our identities and instead of supporting us, everyone around us is suited up on the other side. On behalf of Laurel’s mixed community, if you must be involved in our battles, please don’t fight against us.
Commentaires