March 19, 2007
On Hybrid Vigor, Acceptance and GraceMusings
A banned commenter left the following pain on a thread yesterday:
I cannot stand it when black or hispanic women try to get into the “bollywood” trend. They are so superficially involved with indian culture and dont know shit about the true meaning/history behind why things are done. I doubt they have any respect for the indian culture; they just like the trendy-cool look of things.
I didn’t delete it, nor did I summon the intern to stop fanning me as I lounged on my throne, to do so at my behest. I was too overwhelmed, at how in much the same way a smell can invoke a memory consummately and instantly, bigotry could, too.
Reading the bitter words in that comment sliced my age in half with the precision of my Mother’s Wusthof carving knife; once my eyes left my laptop screen, I was sixteen again and utterly miserable. It was a Sunday morning, just after church, during the coffee hour, and I was waiting for my Father to finish chatting with one of his acquaintances, a local professor named Dr. Pappas whom he didn’t get to see regularly.
I never felt entirely at home at church, because I was Indian and it was Greek. Though my parents both come from indefatigable Malankara Syriac Orthodox bloodlines, my sister and I were not baptized in the church of our ancestors. The reason for this sounds droll when I narrate it, after I am inevitably asked why I’m Greek Orthodox; personally, however, it is borderline painful, as it created a chasm between me and other Malayalees which can never be closed. I find it bitterly amusing that the only time I was ever “confused” as an American-born desi was when I was trying to reconcile who I was as an Orthodox Christian.
Was I really Indian? I had kicked and whirled through the makellarikos horos since I could remember, but I was never enrolled in Bharatnatyam, despite being fascinated by and drawn to it; the one time I timidly introduced the subject, my mother gave me such a withering look, I slunk back to my books and my room. As an adult, my refrigerator was filled with filo, feta, mizithra and kalamata olives; the only salad I knew how to make was horiatiki. I didn’t take rusk with my kappi, not when there was koulourakia to be had. As much as I crave my beloved semiya payasam, nothing thrills me more than the one time a year I get to dyson down a few dozen loukoumades. Long before I turned up my nose at Starsucks’ obnoxious frappuccino fusterclucks, I greedily slurped up Nescafe frappes. In fact, those luscious, frothy glasses of caffeinated perfection are probably why I choke on what the mermaid serves for $5 a pop.
Sure, most of this has to do with food, but I have always felt that what we eat defines us just as much as where or whom we worship and what we believe, since all of the above are often intrinsically connected. My family is TamBrahm-level vegetarian in our strictness, in part because we always have and will observe a permanent lent. My father was so religious, he felt it was the least he could do to further exercise his faith, especially after being influenced by the eldest of his nine brothers, an ascetic who refused to marry, preferring instead to haunt Parumala and other holy sites. My eldest Uncle had observed a similarly severe, never-ending fast and when he died at age 33, my grief-stricken father, who was then barely six-years old, decided to emulate such dietary self-denial.
Imagine then, what it was like for him in the late 60’s/early 70’s, when he was one of (if not the) first of his kind to settle in strange Southern California. After almost never missing church for the first three decades of his life, having nowhere to worship on Sunday mornings was untenable. So, he picked up the phone book, looked up Orthodox churches and spotted “Greek” before “Russian” and “Serbian”. A Greek Orthodox Church it was, then. And with that unbelievably simple turn of events, lives would be altered forever, leaving me and my sister fractured Malayalees who would never quite fit in anywhere. She and I were the first and perhaps last babies in our family who would be baptized by a man chanting in Greek, not Malayalam or Syriac.
When called out for his concomitantly uber-Orthodox and unorthodox decision regarding the salvation of his daughters’ souls, my father simply responded that to him, it was far more important that we go to church weekly vs. monthly, which was all that could be managed for the nascent Indian Orthodox community of Southern California, who flew in priests to officiate at services which were held at borrowed facilities once every few weeks. What made his choice all the more audacious was the fact that my Father was instrumental in starting what would later become the Los Angeles and San Francisco parishes of his native church; he mailed letters to Kottayam on Saturday while snapping at us to prepare reverently for the following day’s Greek holy communion. The duality which I cannot escape was modeled for me from birth.
So, though I occasionally went to the Saturday services of the Indian Orthodox church (we were borrowing churches, remember? They were never available on Sundays) , it was the Greek Church which nurtured me and taught me to pray each Sunday. I had perfect attendance at Sunday school and was an alto in our junior choir. As mentioned before, I learned Greek folk dance, practicing maneuvers my ancestor never made while preparing for annual folk dance festivals. And while my spoken Malayalam was at a toddler’s level of proficiency, I spoke plenty of Greek, especially since my best friend Demetra and I used it to bitch about our snotty prep school classmates and equally annoying teachers; there is nothing like gossip to motivate you to learn a foreign language. Every night during evening prayers, when my father commenced “Our Father…”in what was his AND my mother tongue, I mentally murmured it in Greek.
All of this was why I was standing in the reception hall next to a huge, beautiful white church, which looked as if it should be on a cliff, jutting out against the unforgettable blue of the Aegean Sea. This was the only spiritual home I had ever truly known, but my skin prickled and my heart rate never dropped to “resting” while I was in it. I was constantly anxious and self-conscious, about not looking a damned thing like anyone else in class or choir, about not sharing their histories or their familial village…about not belonging. I felt as if I barely had any right to be standing there, gazing out at the pretty courtyard where I had hunted for Easter eggs every year since we had moved.
I looked back at my father impatiently. He was laughing raucously at something wicked the good Professor had just said and I sighed with a melancholy acquiescence; I wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. I wandered over to the table which had been picked over by the hundreds of adults who were drinking coffee while eating butter cookies. Picking up karidopita, I was about to return to my father’s table when I heard hissing, about me. I froze.
I cannot stand it when stupid Indian girls think they’re Greek. They are so superficially involved with Greek culture and don’t know shit about the true meaning/history behind why things are done. I doubt they have any respect for Greek culture; they’re just wanna-bes…why isn’t she worshipping a cow or something?
Before Alexandra had finished uttering her final insult, I was crying. There. There it was: finally out there, and uglier than I had ever anticipated it could be. The hideous, dreadful sentiment which I was certain lingered behind every glance which lasted a second too-long, was out and proudly unpleasant. Whenever I had gingerly broached the subject with the few people who mattered—like my erstwhile Sunday school teachers who wanted to know why I, consistently the most knowledgeable student of church history, cycled between participating in and withdrawing from class discussions—they had immediately dismissed my insecurity, often pointing out that there were Copts, Palestinians and Ethiopians who also attended our church; they’d always close their pep talks with, “they’re not even baptized Greek! You are!”, as if that somehow helped my cause. I timidly refrained from pointing out the obvious, that yes, we had such families at our parish— a whopping one of each and NONE of the three ever felt welcome enough to stay and mingle, let alone Hoover all the air out of the room like my flamboyant, unapologetically comfortable father.
I tried to stare at a wall to stem the saltwater which would further humiliate and differentiate me from the cheerful crowds, bedecked in their tweeds and chalk-stripes, quilted bags with interlocking Cs dangling from the arms of women attired in the former. While my classmates were wearing starter Chanel suits, I was trussed up like a six-year old in Jessica McClintock’s Gunne Sax. On that ignominious Sunday, I was wearing lilac cotton, trimmed in JM’s signature lace, ruffles and giant bows. Mein Gott in himmel, could this get any worse?
Yes, yes it could. A younger child of about eight, whom I had never spoken to, was staring at me without even attempting to hide it. I spun away on one suitably conservative heel and rushed back to my window, where I could be alone with the emotional maelstrom that Alexandra, that vicious girl with the piliferous face and arms had caused. Now, upon reflection, I know she was ostracized for being morbidly overweight and well, mustached. Whom else could she pick on, being at the bottom of the svelte, outrageously well-clad and perfectly manicured Greek food chain? Ah right, the sad Indian girl.
I numbly stared at my cake, which I couldn’t eat. I just wanted to go home. I looked at my dad again; he was oblivious to all of it. I was relieved; if he had discovered what had transpired, he would have installed a new anal orifice on Alexandra’s father’s rear, as he blazed through a speech my sister and I now had memorized, about how in 52 A.D., St. Thomas himself converted MY ancestors while most of __’s were burning animals for Zeus’ pleasure. No, better that he not know. Perhaps it would be best if I trudged to the girls’ bathroom and washed my face…
“Anna.”
There was a huge, warm hand on my left shoulder; it belonged to our massive, barrel-chested priest who had the most commanding, thrill-inducing voice I had ever heard. I let him turn me slightly, until we were facing each other.
“Are you okay, koukla?”
I mutely shook my head and soon it was buried in his chest, just above the giant, jewel-encrusted cross which he always wore.
“I know what happened,”
At this, I yanked my face back out of his cassock, out of shock. How…? I looked to my right…there, about thirty feet away, the eight-year old who had stared…he was still watching me.
“I don’t want to come here anymore, Father. I don’t belong here.”
A bear paw yanked my chin up so that I was making eye contact with a man who was 6’3, 300+ lbs.
“Don’t you ever say such things again, not in my church, not ever. You are like my own child; I see no difference between you or Costa, Maria or Eleni. If they come to church here, so will you. Don’t you listen to things said by an ignorant child. She doesn’t run this place; I DO.”
“But Father, I’m not Greek…and she’s not the only one who thinks that way…”
“It’s a sin to think that way. I know the priest who carried you around the altar at the cathedral. Presbytera tells me you know every chant and hymn better than anyone else in the junior choir and I, I have watched you grow up here, just as worthy of blessings if not more so than any other child, because of the purity within you.”
“Father…I know you and Presbytera love me, but that doesn’t mean other people will ever accept me. I wonder if I should…start attending the Indian church with my mother…”
My mother had stopped accompanying us to Sunday liturgy, because she hated the scrutiny; conveniently, her schedule “changed” so that she had to work most Sundays anyway. She preferred to worship with her own, “where I don’t get stared at for being in a sari.”
He placed a considerable hand on each of my shoulders and clasped them firmly. “Anna, if you stop coming to this church, I will be very upset. God doesn’t want you to leave us and neither do I. This is your home. Don’t let anyone, no matter how much they upset you, push you out of it.” And with that, he kissed the top of my head, patted my cheek and smiled before walking away.
Soon he was talking to Alexandra’s father, who probably agreed with his daughter, and who was not enjoying the conversation one bit. The man turned and gave me a dirty look mid-verbal-castigation from our priest. Just as Father could be a cashmere teddy bear (like he was most of the time, like he had been to me five minutes before), he could also be a fearsome, formidable man when necessary. No matter how ignorant or racist a parishioner wished to be, they would never cross or disobey a priest. Alexandra’s father grabbed his daughter by her arm before dragging her outside, cursing her in Greek all the while. The priest watched them leave, then glanced my way and smiled at me.
I wanly smiled back, but the gooseflesh didn’t go away. It never really has.
::
When I eat thayirsadham, it’s with this, and there isn’t a damned thing wrong with it. That simple, anomalous combination is the perfect metaphor for who I turned out to be.
No one has the right to be the arbiter of who does and does not get to participate in their culture. Such judgmental “guardians” had the genetic fortune or fate to be born in to what those whom they look down on are drawn to, but that doesn’t endow them with any priveleges like the one our banned commenter wishes she could exercise on all those “black and hispanic women”.
This is why I am especially protective of Nina and her kundi, Preston and his camera, Asha’s dad and his…sick taste in tunes, Andrea and her voice, Maurice and his linguistic pursuits, T-hype and her blog and every other genuinely down-with-the-brown white, black, blue or pink non-desi. I love them for coming here, for staying, for sitting at a table that can often be intimidating if not nearly unwelcome, due to the utterly unnecessary hostility of the few. I’m not kissing the white devil’s ass, but I am like gang recognizing gang in this bloggy bang bang; I feel just as Greek as I do Indian, if not moreso, and no one shall invalidate that. Nor will anyone get away with that here, not while my memory of similar hatred is so fresh and so unclean.
Nina has been to Kerala far more recently than I have; my last visit was back in the dark ages of 1989. In fact, she lived there, which is something I’ll probably never be able to claim. Who the hell am I or anyone else for that matter, to pull rank over that? As long as someone isn’t skeeving me out like Pardesi Gori with her sketchy, spicier-than-thou Indophilia—and it’s just something I can sense, that weirdness which makes my spider sense tingle as I consider that something ain’t right..and I know, several of you might disagree with me about it, but it’s just how I feel about her— as long as someone’s heart is pure, their contributions are respectful and their affection runs deep for this culture which is not “officially” their own, then they are one of mine.
Miss Banned-and-deleted:
If you’re going to tell Deevani that she shouldn’t sing or participate in the culture which she is lovingly and sincerely invested in, for the sake of not just herself but her three, half-brown children, then you’re no better than Alexandra. And she was a vile bitch. Aim higher, won’t you please? You’re bigger and better than that. We all should be.
anna on March 19, 2007 08:27 AM in Identity, Issues, Musings, Religion · T·r·a·c·k·b·a·c·k address · Direct link · Email post
Seriously, I feel you need to get over your issues with Pardesi Gori. Some of her comments are crazy, but you painting her as "spicier than thou" isn't necessarily any better than what other hater commenters do sometimes. You probably should examine why she gets to you so much.
I'm seriously also not sure if the commenter profiled needs to be "banned." Would it have been better if the words "SOME" or "CERTAIN" were inserted before "black and hispanic women"? It probably would have changed the whole tone of the comment, but considering we don't all perform judicious self-editing when typing a quick comment on a blog, it's possible that what you were reading into it was a bit of an overreaction. The troll meter on SM sometimes seems like it needs recalibrating, and "bannable" actions sometimes seem to be in a very, very gray zone.
All that aside, this entry was great.
You find the following "very, very gray"? We even put it above the form for every comment which is posted here, so that it's obvious and emphasized:
Also, the full text of the comment in question:
Still think we need "recalibrating"?
Speaking only for myself, I don't think that Sepia Mutiny would be a site I would enjoy reading if comments like the one quoted were considered perfectly acceptable...
[keyboard in mouth] Nevermind. Hadn't seen the second part of the nasty, nasty comment... only the bit that Anna had excerpted in the post above, which by comparison isn't really terrible. The "Secondly" part... yes, yes. Mea culpa. Sorry.
kusala: :)
All of us are made of things borrowed. Thanks for the introspection on your varied past, as it made me reminisce of my own personal historical vortex of disparate cultures ... and how similar we all are in the end, if we'd just open ourselves to the notion. Lovely post, Anna.
Paris Hilton meets David Duke, at an Anand Jon show.
I lowe you Anna. This was wonderful.
anna,
i love this post!!!
except, as you predicted
i guess that even though she makes some comments that i find ridiculous, i realize that so does almost everyone else on this blog ... but people insult her a bit more; i can't quantify how much it is exactly, but i can't help but feel it's due to the 'Us vs Them' mentality that you write about in this post ...
anyway, a great post overall ... out of curiosity, were your parents originally Jacobites?
Anna,
Your post almost made me cry! I'm not desi, but I speak Hindi, watch Hindi (and Tamil and Bengali!) films, can join in on any Hindi sing-along, and I'm on a first name basis with the cook at our local Indian restaurant. A good Indian friend of mine told me once that I may be white, but she sees a brown person when she looks at me. It was one of the best compliments I've ever received, yet I sometimes feel like you-out of place. I'm the only non-desi face at the campus bhangra competition, the only white person in the theatre when I went to see Eklavya and Salaam Namaste-and though the majority of the people there make me feel welcome, I'm always worried that there are people there who think to themselves "what the hell is she doing here?" Reading your post was exactly what I needed.
Perhaps not directly related but interesting nonetheless:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indo-Greek
Gazsi
Even less related is this.
:)
Mr Dak Naam :) I lous Anna too, but she never returns my calls. *sigh*
A.N.N.A - that is such a powerful post. Thanks.
Aww, Anna, that was lovely. I'm comforted and priviledged to know your groping, fairy-godmother hand is out there protecting my kundi.
Brava Anna!
Very wonderful post. You've always gone a long way to making me feel welcome, and I cherish that.
That was a really great story and since this is public domain I think I will make it my own and might publish it in a book about tolerance. I am so pissed that I dont have stories like this about my own life. I feel like J Peterman from Seinfeld, when he has to buy Kramer's life stories in order to write an interesting autobiography.
Can we at least recognize that white/indian people acting like they are ghetto African American's is annoying and does indeed warrent jokes about them?
Hey, i know lots of desis who eat with greek yogurt..it's soo much better than the blocky, watery regular supermarket brands..
What beautiful writing. Thanks for sharing, ANNA. That was quite moving to read.
Great post! No one has a right to deny anyone else the pleasure of enjoying any culture/religion etc. Why let someone else limit you just because they insist on limiting themselves.
great post!
...though i will admit, seeing the title was getting ready to offer commentary on the literature re: heterozygote advantage, overdominance and masking of deleterious recessives :-)
Very good post Anna, I grew up in Sweden as probably the only desi guy in the country (well it felt like that), speak swedish fluently and even here in NYC my friends are predominantly Swedish and my girlfriend is a Swede. Eventhough I never call my self swedish I do understand perfectly how odd it can feel to be so heavily invensted in a culture that supperficially isn't yours.
If dating black women is downgrading, how do we upgrade or are we top of the list?
Instead of banning, this person seems to need some cultural re-adjustment. Mutineers seem like just the sorts of people to help her see the light.
check out this youtube. she is
1) american (born)
2) bengali (parents, ancestry)
3) dane (where she lives, where her daughter was born)
Excellento posto!
I love Greeks, but I don't know how to say 'Excellent' in Greek :(
To all "they don't know shit about our culture/history" desi's, how about educating them about our so called great culture/history.
Here is a slogan for you "Paint them Brown"
Pip pip to Anna and MadGuru (and to all the Indians [and other folks] who dig that I dig [and publicly write about] Bollywood)! I work at a museum of world cultures and I might just have to print this out and stick it on our door. What kind of dull place would the world be if we were each limited to what/whom we were born with/in/around?
ooh, nicely said MadGuru!
Great post, Anna.
Speaking of cross-cultures, how about Sudhir Venkatesh's work on underground economics esp in the African American community - made famous by Freakonomics? Related post.
What a nice post, Anna. Really introspective and full of feeling and a joy to read. And all this came tumbling out based on that 'banned comment'? Very impressive indeed.
Although your father's choice of Greek Orthodox over the other denominations appears accidental, I wonder if you would have been accepted very much at all in, say, a Russian Orthodox church. Lots of Greeks don't look that different from Indians, (and have had their own troubles being accepted as fully American, in spite of the general Hellenistic orientation of much of the West's self-conception), so you might have had it easier with the Greeks. (BTW, I've been mistaken for Greek myself, and Peurto Rican too, in both cases by people who were Greek or PR).
Also, while Keralite Syrian Christians may be Orthodox in the apostolic sense, their ritual practice is substantially different from other Eastern Orthodox churches, is it not? I seem to remember reading somewhere that the inside of a Malayali Syrian church was a lot like a Malayali Hindu temple, and the priests with huge caps and cassocks are not part of it, the priest looks rather like a Hindu brahmin priest in his garment. The caps and cassocks costume would be, among other things, also meteorologically incorrect for Kerala. I wonder though, if in America, some of the specifically Eastern Orthodox rituals are being consciously adopted by the Malayali Syrian chuches, so as to be more accepted?
Again, a really nice, thought-provoking post, Anna! Why don't you get yourself a blog? :)
Chachaji,
She
has
plenty
of
them.
All of which have been mouldering and or flourishing since exactly and approximately 2003. ;)
I couldn't help being reminded of the episode where George converts to Latvian Orthodox!
A thought provoking ANNA post as usual!
While laissez faire in cultural matters is always the right approach, especially since we live in a multi-cultural, multi-racial society, we Indians need to become much more inclusive in our thinking if we want to capitalize on our new status as an emerging giant. One of the trade-offs of globalization - I consider it one of the advantages - is that we will have to share ownership of our highly prized and guarded heirloom called culture with all types of new participants. Some will be serious Indophiles, most just dilettantes.
A truly aware and forward thinking society does not have the natives guarding the gates. It is a free for all. If a bunch of fob's (I was once) can come to America and declare themselves experts, after a couple of drinks with friends, on all things American, then why can't we accept the same drop-in interaction from people who really don't know India, nor would they care to? In this age of massive aggregation - to borrow a phrase from Web 1.0 - millions of casual participants in the Indian experience will enrich Indians much more than a few anointed experts. That's why I was never critical of the so-called voyeristic tours of Dharavi and the culture-in-a-can efforts of some home furnishing store posted here last month. It all adds up, and mostly on the plus side for India and Indians.
Thanks Anna, er, SM Intern! Really look forward to reading them all.
Word ANNA!
Rather than waste a lot of energy breaking down the first half of that comment---um, yeah Bollywood is THE defining element of Indian culture & we all know it's WAY more annoying when black and hispanic people jump on a bandwagon than white or chinese people do it because blacks and hispanics are inherently shallow unlike other racial groups---I will admit that part of me wants to be upset but I seriously doubt whoever that was would have the cojones (Spanish word!) to say such things in my presence. Should I be so privileged, they would be so privileged as to receive an appropriate tongue-lashing.
*I shall nowise be dragged into a conversation about hair supremacy but only because I'm holding back against frivolous thread jacking.*
Let people like what they like even if you don't like how they like it, says I.
*pats pagri and feels for beard, both of which are still there...then shrugs*
;)
Because there's no such thing as a desi with a nappy head.
[And before y'all jump down my throat for being un-PC, I mean nappy in a descriptive, very fond sense, not as a put down]
I have no time to educate people who say this:
That's disrespectful too many ways to Sunday to even start to count.
Racism may sometimes come from ignorance, but being disrespectful is a choice.
:)
A friend of mine recently came back from a trip to Jamaica (yes he caught a couple of games).
Apparently he spotted a bunch of white people talking about cricket and when he asked them where they were from, they said Jamaica and he was totally stunned.
His conclusion "They are color-blind".
A lot of time and effort will get us (The entire human society) there and people like you help the process speed up.
Thanks ANNA for another great post.
Lovely post, Anna. This one I think will stick in my head for a while.
Floridian, that's the fence I find myself balancing upon. Not Indophiliac vs. dilettante, but how far to probe into a highly prized culture without seeming intrusive.
One of the most popular sports in Asia began in Britain. Suppose the British had claimed that only they had the "right" to play cricket and only they possessed a "true" understanding of it? They'd be a laughingstock.
Motion pictures were not invented by Indians. Suppose the inventors of motion pictures would claim that only their culture "owned" the medium and other peoples simply could not do it justice? Again: laughingstock.
But dance and music is universal: all cultures have it. When peoples mix their musical forms, new genres are spawned (such as rock'n roll).
Culture is not a solid thing: culture is a living, ever-changing, promiscuous creature. When it stops changing, it dies.
It's a great essay Anna wrote and it ought to get in print.
The very idea of the "immaculate conception" of culture bereft of any "outside" interference or participation seems to me to be extremely naive...
I doubt there is a single desi born and raised in the UK or USA who at some stage in their life has not felt the slap in the face of exclusion as ANNA describes so clearly and eloquently here. That's what makes desis who try to exclude non browns, and get territorial about desi culture, even more sad and slighty tragic.
I love it when black and white folk love us.
An astute observation, Floridian and a great post, Anna!
re: jamaica, His conclusion "They are color-blind". please read malcolm gladwell's piece (his mother is from jamaica). bias and prejudice pretty much exists in all cultures in some form, it is an unfortunate humn universal (consider, even more current immigration to sweden changed the nature of that state, there was prejudice against finns, and the saami of the northern half of the country were ethniclly cleansed in the 16th-18th centuries [some burned as witches]).
I totally agree with the overall point you're making, but this may not necessarily be the best example to present. In fact, the British did exclude the non-white colonies from Test Cricket for more than a half-century since it got started - only England (MCC), Australia and South Africa played Tests initially, and South Africa, of course, had an all-white team. Link. Of course, a lot else was different in the 19th and early 20th centuries, but it can't be said that the British conceived of cricket as a wholly egalitarian enterprise, even among themselves. It was largely an upper-class affair initially, and male - even today women's cricket doesn't enjoy even a fraction of the attention that men's cricket does! How an upper-class male 19th century pastime became a popular 'sport' is an interesting story on which books have been written, and I can't do justice to.
Not defending the flat-out racist comments of the offender at all, nor someone like Alexandra (if she were in my class...), but I myself have a little bit of skepticism sometimes based on my own personal experiences. Not with other people's interest in things desi, I guess, but their interest in me, as a desi. If that makes any sense.
Stunning post, ANNA. Thank you for sharing this story with us.
Hey I'm Greek Orthodox and I married an Indian. Howdy.
Everyone tells us what beautiful children we'll have. Mostly I just think they'll be hairy.
Anna,
You are one special chica. I'm such a diehard fan and I predict this post will circulate way beyond SM. I'm going to use it in teaching health, somehow...
sometimes it's a fine line between being loved and being turned into a novelty
Tamasha:
Agreed.
I thought I was gonna like my new neighbors until they tried to impress me and my roommate with how much Marquez they had read(Ooo, he's so difficult!)kept asking me to try her latin recipes for authenticity (Bitch, I wuz born here. Ask my grandma.) and then all the commentary on my ungrammatically correct/street Spanish just about did it for me.
Not even sure if it was exotifying or stereotyping or what. Whaddya call that?
te
sti
FY!!!!!
Very good post, made me both examine my occasional goriphobia (for which, mea culpa) and celebrate. .
Greeks
Tiropita
Frappe
fried cheese
Anna's writing
general cross-culturalness
Greek ladies who invariably ask me. . . you Greek? Have you met my daughter?
Efharisto!
This reminds me of my friend Tom Alter, who is a Bollywood actor. But Tom is white, the child of Idaho missionaries who came to India before he was born. He went to school in Mussoorie and was raised there. Is he more Indian than me, who was born in the US and only goes back for visits? Should he pay the "foreign" price at the Taj Mahal while I sneak in on the "Indian" rate? (I hate that system a lot because its purely based on looks.)
One time Tom and I were in a cab in Bombay and he was giving the directions because I have terrible Hindi. The cab driver was so floored by Tom's impeccable Hindi that after we dropped off Tom, he said, in Hindi to me "He is a very good man."
Tom could probably tell you how to say that in Hindi, but I can't.
I know, right?
Excellent post Anna (and great comment Floridian: I completely agree with you).
And Anna, believe it or not, there are actually other malayali children baptized in Greek Orthodox churches; my 4 yr-old cousin for example. And I suspect there are more scattered across smallish cities all over N.America.
Chachaji:
Actually not. Their liturgy is pretty much identical to the syrian-orthodox churches of the middle east, and so is their garb (yes, cassocks and hats unfit for the tropics). You could say that there are some architectural elements and rituals (in weddings etc) borrowed from hinduism. Opa, perhaps ? :)
And finally I have to say that I never quite understood the reactions to PG's comments. She sure seemed to know a lot more about hinduism than I do, and some of her observations (even the unpopular ones) rang true. So in the spirit of tolerance, I'd vote to unban her.
Ha ha AIS. I for one am Happy to be Nappy.
I hear that. Sometimes you've just gotta let people know when they're being weird.
I for one, am overly excited about a great many things which often extends into my Bollyphilia. At the same time, I'm very guarded against assaulting every Indian person I meet with, Have you seen "insert film name here"? Although after 10 minutes of conversation I'm likely to let a "So do you watch Bollywood?" slip out. My limited hip-hop knowledge has been a sourace of disappointment for many a rap fan. I'd really hate to spread the discomfort over another marginally cultural form of entertainment.
It gets weird when people react as if you're a disappointment to your "racial classification" because you don't partake in certain high-profile elements. That's annoying from without and within. I would hope though cross-culturally, if I were legitimately stepping on toes that someone would correct me. How the heck else are people gonna learn?
“So, though I occasionally went to the Saturday services of the Indian Orthodox church, it was the Greek Church which nurtured me and taught me to pray each Sunday.”
Haha. You forgot the Friday Catholic masses that further confused us. We must have been the holiest children ever...church three times a week! :)
This was a really great post by ANNA and a lovely comment thread by all. The seeming consensus on this board that culture is fluid to change and open to all is really quite impressive. Cheers.
T-hype,
You're right about the correction when stepped on-I just get so weary from teaching the shorties all day. I'm probably too grouchy/anti-social to teach adults when I'm off the clock because I think they should know better.
I just growl and skulk away.
Nice post, anna.
My wife is African American and some of the comments we receive in public are racist and hurtful. It's as if I don't speak Hindi and we're invisible. However, we don't let the negativity bother us. Our kids have two great cultures to be proud of :)
The way I see it is this, tamasha. ANNA says it brilliantly, it's like there is a Spiderman sixth sense that tells you when you're being condescended to or fetishised. But most people arent like that, at least in my experience. You make friends with people, and then they'll usually ask questions about things they are curious about. And that's really cool.
razib: I do not disagree, but for an outsider to walk into a country and get that feeling is well... nice. Unless you acctually live there (sometimes for extended periods of time), you will never know the reality of the situation. That is another universal truth.
Petra: I guess you will also have to deal with Yayas and Ayahs with competing remedies for the evil eye: faux spitting vs. marking baby's cheek with kohl.
Anna: Great post, I'll have to ask my Malayalee Christian friends who arrived here in the 60s/70s if they had similar experiences with Eastern Orthodox churches growing up. I wonder how Italian parishes view desi priests...last time I was in Rome every other nun/priest seemed desi
Well done Anna, as always. Learning about St. Thomas' travails in India a couple years back was very eye-opening and helped shatter stereotypes I once harbored.
Thank you. To all macacas reading, honorary or authentic, please take note: not all South Asians watch or even like Bollywood and there are plenty of non-desi items we would much rather discuss. I don't expect you to look at me and know that I'm much more stoked to talk about late 60's Mopar Muscle than Hrithik's chiro-mutation, but please understand questions like "so, what are the best Indian restaurants around here" and/or "why do you people do/wear/say/smell like this?" will probably yield an answer similar to HTFWIK?
Yes. I can only hope that the original commenter is reading this and will eventually come to understand our POV. In the meantime, like OHMIGAW!
Psst...Ashvin: she never went away.
I think I know what he's saying. It's not so much that people are into Indian food, music or whatever, but that they really want me to know about it. If you enjoy it, enjoy it and just shut up about it.
Psst...Ashvin: she never went away.
She is posting as MoS now. Short for Mistress of Spices. She always gets around the bans with some new handle.
what a terribly awful book.. and oddly fitting handle.
(or a non-static ip).
You're right... no need for unbanning then; the situation seems to have sorted itself out.
Perhaps, I am naive because I am a fob who came to the US 20 year ago? I don't understand this feeling of ownership expressed towards cultural elements of one's perceived traditional culture. As someone who is secure in my roots and culture, I would always gladly welcome anyone to partake in any of my traditional cultural elements if they so desire. So it is puzzling to see so many including the commenter who spawned this thread, being insecure about an 'outsider' taking an active interest in their traditional culture. Where does this insecurity arise from? Is it because of the shifting cultural boundaries and cross-cultural lifestyle of ABDs, who may not know enough about 'their' traditional culture as defined to them by their parents from whichever part of desiland they are from?
Reading this a second time it definitely sounds tongue in cheek. They weren't for real but we fell for the bait.
I've been away for a few months and returned to find myself unbanned. And I haven't written anything ban worthy again as of yet. So it's not that I'm dodging the bans with some techno voodoo or whatever.
Really? Then you know something that the rest of us apparently don't, since this was the original comment which was banned and deleted:
Would it help if I made this more relevant-- what if we replaced black women with WHITE women? Still feel like it was just bait?
Yes, the way it's written appears to me to be something written just to get a reaction, not out of any sort of conviction. Like a parody, as if they were making fun of people who think that way. I could be wrong though.
I agree with Ms. Anna that many of us are mixed and the "racial purists" in this world love to look down upon on any one who doesn't fit the mold. I have experienced similar feelings in Pakistan, where I am not considered a "real" Pakistani because my family is not Muslim.
But I would like to say that sometimes people who very interested in a culture, for whatever reason, are able to learn a fair amount about it and then proceed to see themselves as having become one of those people. The emphasis should always be on learning about other cultures not trying to become something else because there might always be a little bit of an accent etc when you speak a foreign language.
I respect the American who speaks Urdu fluently but is still firmly Swedish(randomly chosen) as opposed to a Swede who considers themselves Pakistani because they know Urdu to some degree.
So what? If I say you're an annoying whore but I'm just writing it to get a reaction, not out of any sort of conviction, does that make it less harmful? Less wrong?
Right. These idiots used the same flimsy excuse.
agree with Ms. Anna that many of us are mixed and the "racial purists" in this world love to look down upon on any one who doesn't fit the mold. I have experienced similar feelings in Pakistan, where I am not considered a "real" Pakistani because my family is not Muslim.
But I would like to say that sometimes people who very interested in a culture, for whatever reason, are able to learn a fair amount about it and then proceed to see themselves as having become one of those people. The emphasis should always be on learning about other cultures not trying to become something else because there might always be a little bit of an accent etc when you speak a foreign language.
I respect the Swede who speaks Urdu fluently but is still firmly Swedish(randomly chosen) as opposed to a Swede who considers themselves Pakistani because they know Urdu to some degree.
That just makes me jealous. What can I say?
Good point.
I don't have much regard for people who, disregarding the positive aspects of their own cultures, reject them in favor of adopting without critique the cultural customs and habits of people from another culture/country, just because their religion of choice originated from there, which is what i have seen in several non-indians who convert to indic religions. They "go all native" just because of the religion, and downgrade their own countries and cultures to the people of India like, "I'm so ashamed of my western upbringing. It's all about sex and money. Your culture is so high, so rich, so ancient, so spiritual. I'm just an uncivilized mleccha", yada yada yada. This is an attitude phenomena found alot in ISKCON and other western Hindu groups.
Why they feel the need to be apologetic about their birth countries and cultures I have no idea. I think it has something to do with trying to "fit in" where they feel left out and thus they overcompensate by being overly humble and what-not.
I am linking this blog in http://www.bestofindya.com
Oh, my heroine. Much love to you, AKKA.
Seconded - or thirded. Anna is an Akka to her little sister too, isn't she?
And Ashvin, thanks for the clarification on Syrian Xian ritual - also checked out your Kottayam pictures. Nice. By the way, Russian and Greek cassocks differ in the warmth they provide, so I expect Keralan cassocks are comfily designed too.
As much as I love reading this blog, I do feel that (as expressed at UltraBrown in the past) it is frowned upon to express viewpoints that are against popular SM opinion. Of course racist comments and the like should not be tolerated, but I think SM is taking censorship to extreme. After all, isn't our opinions what gets the dialogue going (e.g., ANNA's post today)? SM is getting cliquish....just my thoughts. Now let's see if I will be banned.
Sorry to be thread jacking here, but at some point someone had to say this. Having been a long time reader (2 years and counting) I disagree. It is not about people expressing their viewpoints, its more about the choice of words. I have seen people articulate good arguments and sustain the discussion and I have also seen some people make an ass out of themselves.
Thank you for that great post Anna. There's not really anything I can add to this already profound response except to say that I appreciate hearing about your experience. It validates my own experience which can probably be summarized as racial and cultural nomadism. My travels these days take me to South Asia, and honestly it is primarily through desi cinema and novels because they are the most accessible cultural forms to me, as a non-desi.
I think this is very nicely put, and with none of the frothing at the mouth than I would usually have when expressing something similar :)
Anna, many thanks for that peek into history. Gazsi (Comment # 12), thanks for that link. Much to learn from history.
Because the theme is tolerance, I am much tempted to cut and paste this speech which is so dear to me. I have deleted one or two words (religious identifiers).
=========================================
Response to Welcome
At The World's Parliament of Religions. Chicago, 11th September 1893
Sisters and Brothers of America,
It fills my heart with joy unspeakable to rise in response to the warm and cordial welcome which you have given us. l thank you in the name of the most ancient order of monks in the world; I thank you in the name of the mother of religions; and I thank you in the name of the millions and millions of people of all classes and sects.
My thanks, also, to some of the speakers on this platform who, referring to the delegates from the Orient, have told you that these men from far-off nations may well claim the honor of bearing to different lands the idea of toleration. I am proud to belong to a religion which has taught the world both tolerance and universal acceptance. We believe not only in universal toleration, but we accept all religions as true. I am proud to belong to a nation which has sheltered the persecuted and the refugees of all religions and all nations of the earth. I am proud to tell you that we have gathered in our bosom the purest remnant of the Israelites, who came to the southern India and took refuge with us in the very year in which their holy temple was shattered to pieces by Roman tyranny. I am proud to belong to the religion which has sheltered and is still fostering the remnant of the grand Zoroastrian nation. I will quote to you, brethren, a few lines from a hymn which I remember to have repeated from my earliest boyhood, which is every day repeated by millions of human beings:
"As the different streams having their sources in different
places all mingle their water in the sea, so, O Lord, the
different paths which men take through different tendencies,
various though they appear, crooked or straight, all lead to Thee."
The present convention, which is one of the most august assemblies ever held, is in itself a vindication, a declaration to the world, of the wonderful doctrine:
"Whosoever comes to Me, through whatsoever form, I reach him;
all men are struggling through paths which in the end lead to Me."
Sectarianism, bigotry, and its horrible descendant, fanaticism, have long possessed this beautiful earth. They have filled the earth with violence, drenched it often and often with human blood, destroyed civilization, and sent whole nations to despair. Had it not been for these horrible demons, human society would be far more advanced than it is now. But their time has come; and I fervently hope that the bell that tolled this morning in honor of this convention may be the death-knell of all fanaticism, of all persecutions with the sword or with the pen, and of all uncharitable feelings between persons wending their way to the same goal.
=========================================
tamasha #77,
I hope what you said was tongue in cheek. But just in case it was not, I would like to reiterate that we are all products of the environments we are brought up in. That means for desis born and brought up in this country, it will be the prevailing culture in the community where they grow up in addition to what is imbibed of the ancestral culture from the parents and the desi network. This is going to be a unique mix of American and Indian cultural elements depending on the receptivity and inclination of an individual and the first thing to do would be to accept that reality and be secure in it. No point is served if one identifies as only desi or exclusively American and tries to measure up to some golden standard (there is none) of what it means to be authentically desi or American. The problem lies in how you define 'my culture'. By necessity and circumstance, it is going be a blend and the important thing is to accept that and not be swayed by voices that say that one is not adequately desi or American. And if there are certain cultural elements that one wants to develop from the ancestral culture (or from any other culture for that matter) that one was not privy to in their normal growing up process, then one only needs to actively pursue it based on ones priorities.
ANNA, after reading your story, I can understand why you would never want to leave the Greek Church...so this is more of a theoretical question... but you do have the option of being rebaptised, this time into the Indian (Syriac?) orthodox church if you want, right?
Great Post!
I agree with you that people should be kind to one another. But I have to say that I get very uncomfortable about people who fetishize/exoticize my culture, and people who befriend me JUST SO they can learn all about my culture, not because they want to get to know me as a person. I've had non-desis befriend me just because they wanted to learn about Hinduism, or just because they wanted me to help them find hot desi men, or whatever else. It does get on a person's nerves to be used in that manner. I don't befriend non-desis JUST so I can use them, so it hurts to be used by them.
As regards to your story: it had a happy ending. What would it have been like if it had ended badly? If the Greek priest in the church had not stood up for you? Would you have a different opinion? (I'm only trying to understand your experience better. You told a very heartbreaking story! :-)
To your list, may I add Maria, the Filmiholic?
For those of you interested in desi diasporic identities, check out Rajini Srikanth's The World Next Door
It's like a friend of mine told me last year when I got upset about someone telling me that I am "not a real Indian woman"
No one can ever take whom you are away from you, and you will always be where you come from and have experienced.
There's a Great Wraps franchise near my house run by a gentleman in his 50s. He is from Tanzania and is desi. When he told me that he has never been to India, I asked him if he feels Indian. He looked at me and told me that in his heart he is Tanzanian but in body, he is Indian.
Great article, Anna.
Regarding th
Anna -- seriously amazing post. You just have an unbelievable way with words.
Another great post! I am bookmarking it under south-indian-veggie's guide to greek food. The subtext is as appetizing as the main text :)
Nice story, Anna. I agree overall with your message, and think whoever wrote that post about black/Latina women is an ignorant jackass. But I'm a little confused with statements like the above. Although I know this post is not about Nina Paley, it is tangential. For example, I do like some of Nina's work, but find a good deal of it offensive. That's me speaking as a practicing Hindu, second generation desi. Recently someone posted a criticism on her website about one of her drawings, which is a representation of Kali Ma holding a penis in one hand. I do feel that I have the right to be critical of this work, as well as the creator of the work - especially given that she is a white, American woman. People have painted me as some sort of Hindu fundamentalist conservative who doesn't understand Art - that's fine, never mind the fact that I am an artist myself. I don't think that just because Nina has lived in Kerala that she has some sort carte blanche to do whatever she wants, without question. And that's not probably what you meant, but I'm still confused as to what "pull rank" means. It could easily mean someone who is desi who is critical of such work - is that "pulling rank?"
My point is that the "spider sense" you employ to differentiate between exoticizers/Orientalists and respectful outsiders isn't universal. For example, Paley says on her website, ninapaley.com, regarding her impressions of Trivandrum:
All of what she describes is not untrue. But to paint SUCH a broad brush of Trivandrum society and by extension Keralite society demonstrates a MAJOR knowledge gap about gender dynamics in Kerala. I was born in Cochin, and like many other Keralite families, my mother was in charge of the household, and was by no means a 'second-class citizen.' There is ample literature out there which describes the matriarchial positioning of many Keralite households and families.
Yes, of course Nina was just describing her own impressions and her own experiences, but let's consider the context: to put forth such a broad, generic statement like that on your website when you are a white American woman, whose work is widely distributed, will no doubt leave many people who have no knowledge of Trivandrum and Kerala that it is a misogynistic, backwards, medieval place. And that, to me, is irresponsible. (And for a much better critique of Nina's work, please see http://zooeylive.blogspot.com/2006/12/of-cultural-appropriation-and-white.html).
Please don't think that I am trying to personally attack Nina Paley, or that I wanted to single her out. I am just critiquing her work within the context of this post, and I am only most familiar with her stuff. And if any of what I wrote above sounds disrespectful or harsh, it is unintended - as we all know, it's impossible to relay tone through the Internet. It seems that many of you know each other and Nina in real life, and the natural instinct is to be emotional and defensive of your friends, but please consider my opinions within the context of the above post. This is just what I think. Thanks.
-Nagasai
especially given that she is a white, American woman.
what if she was a brown, American woman? would it offend less? the key problem, as implied in many comments above, is that many people "claim" cultures by virtue of their blood. your criticism of nina might be well founded (if i was a believer in your beliefs i might be offended too), but in general it seems to me that a lot of non-brownz here are put under special scrutiny because they don't have the requisite blood lines. that's kind of ugly. context matters, and that is certainly a subtext that goes through the comments of some here. ultimately this is a way for american brownz to reflect on what "my culture" means. here on SM there is a particular "culture" of being brown which has emerged, or a statistical central tendency. some of it is alien or unfamiliar to me (e.g., the gandhi reverance is above and beyond what i'm used to, the use of punjabi-hindi words as if everyone would know them, etc.). am i not brown? well, by blood i clearly am, and i have non-trivial cultural elements. but i guess it depends on what dimension you're evaluating me. how people perceive me is one way, and how i play out in the world is another. the elements of brownnness and non-brownness, or what i define brownness as, are other variables. i guess what i'm saying is that we get stuck here pushing people into a few boxes. e.g., "hindutva," "exoticist," "progressive brown" or wha