[written while in india]
as we walk through the streets, my friends tell me everyone is looking and staring at me.
[as if i didn't already know]
i smile.
most of the time, it can be ignored; but sometimes, it gets to me. it really gets to me.
sometimes, i tell them, i want to walk these streets and blend into your mosaic of dark faces.
now they smile.
they can’t really understand but thought they might feel the same if they visited my country.
and then, that got me thinking…
[yeah. surprise, surprise...]
so often, i wish i weren’t an outsider. at first, it didn’t bother me. at first, i enjoyed not belonging. but sometimes, i would give just about anything for chameleon skin. as i walk these crowded streets, i wish i blended in instead of turning heads; to be ‘this’ and not ‘that.’ i don’t fit and no matter how hard i try, i never will. i can wear their clothing and speak their words. i could live here for 20 years, write books about traditions or rituals, top the chart in indian culinary, but i would still never find my place like they do. i am not, nor ever will be, indian. the history is long and the customs run deep. there is no adoption into this culture; little room for outsiders to be welcomed in and considered family. through their indian eyes, it’s either ‘us’ or ‘them.’ you’re either from india or outside of it.
as i spend this year in india and away from america, it’s easier to step away from my own culture and see it more objectively. whether politics or presidents, urban sprawl or health care, being away from my home culture gives me a different understanding, a widened perspective. a lot of things i like less. [i've become more critical from this outside perspective] but there are somethings i like more and have fostered a new patriotic appreciation for my homeland.
and as i struggle to find my place as a foreigner in india, i realize even in my own country, i’m an outsider. i bring my danish and german background, you bring your african or chinese heritage. there are hispanics and korean, austrialian and philippeano. america is an immigrant country, its citizens come from all corners of the earth. somewhere along our line, someone sacrificed the scorn of leaving the family business in pursuit of a dream. new families were formed of friends from other places and traditions evolved as they were influenced by new perspectives. in this melting pot of cultures and nations, all are welcome to participate. no matter if you’ve been here for 50 years or 5, go ahead and begin your own business. want to go to college? no caste or unwritten code can hold you back if you work hard enough. the sky is the limit and only your own motivation marks the end of your success. you can find your place in most any neighborhood, corporate ladder and family barbecue.
we are america.
and i really like this about us.
i smile again.
now it’s your turn.
happy independence day.
east of eden. john steinbeck
maybe it’s true that we are all descended from the restless, the nervous, the criminals, the arguers and brawlers, but also the brave and independent and generous. if our ancestors had not been that, they would have stayed in their home plots in the other world and starved over the squeezed-out soil…
we all have that heritage, no matter what old land our fathers left. all colors and blends of americans have somewhat the same tendencies. it’s a breed- selected out by accident. and so we’re overbrave and overfearful- we’re kind and cruel as children. we’re overfriendly and at the same time frightened of strangers. we boast and are impressed. we’re oversentimental and realistic. we are mundane and materialistic- and do you know any other nation that acts for ideas? we eat too much. we have no taste, no sense of proportion. we throw our energy about like waste. in the old lands they say of us that we go from barbarism to decadence without an intervening culture. can it be that our critics have not the key or the language of our culture? that’s what we are- all of us. you aren’t very different.
