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Being the youngest child of immigrant parents has impacted my views on the world in many ways. Growing up, my parents would tell my sisters and me stories about what it was like to live in India, as well as the cultural shock they received when they arrived in America in 1996. My dad would recall a time when he would walk the family cow in the streets. To this day, I still don’t know if he was serious or not. My mom would tell us stories about how she and her friends would walk to the local sugarcane juice stand after school. After living in America for 21 years, my parents have adjusted to the way life here; however, their Indian roots are still instilled in them, and they are stronger than ever. They have tried their hardest to instill those same roots in me while trying to keep me ‘American’. Although I am American citizen, I still keep my Indian roots very near and dear to my heart.
Over the summer, I visited my family in India for the first time as a vigilant teenager who is now able to pay attention to their surroundings. On my previous visits, I was too young and oblivious to comprehend what was really surrounding me. It never struck me about how lacking India is in terms of natural resources. Poverty is located all throughout India. While traveling throughout India, I would see signs about visiting America, which stated that it is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I never realized how fortunate my parents were; they got the chance that some children, and even adults, dream about having in India.
My mom would tell me how lost she felt in a world where she did not look like those around her. Most Indians have a specific stereotype held to their name, which included a heavily accented way of speaking as well as being the smartest person amongst a group of people. Even though she experienced this 21 years ago, I am still able to relate how she felt. Ever since I can remember, I have been going to schools that are not heavy in diversity. I felt that everyone would think that I was ‘that Indian’, who talked in a funny way and smelled like curry. I was afraid that I wouldn’t blend in with the others. My parents told me to never be ashamed of where I come from, and that is something I carry with me to this day.
Hearing stories about my parents’ childhood made India seem like a dream that was worlds away. The culture in India is much different than here. They would describe streets filled with different food stalls with cows sitting right next to them. It always baffled me, but it was something I had always wanted to see. Fast forward to 2018, and I have visited India all of 3 different times. I have begun to appreciate the culture and my heritage more and more each time.
My Indian background is something I hold very near and dear to my heart, thanks to my parents. I am glad I am able to enjoy some of my favorite Indian dishes for lunch and then have some of my favorite American, Italian, or Mexican food for dinner. Living in America has provided me with so many opportunities to be able to blend these two cultures without losing sight of my Indian heritage. Thanks to my parents coming to America, they have provided me with a life some children in India as well as other third-world countries only dream of. At one point in my life, my dream was be able to visit India, and I am lucky to say it has come true, while a child right now is wishing they could have the opportunity to visit America.
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