Looking at my Family
It isn’t politically correct to make generalizations about somebody’s culture, race, or ethnicity…unless you’re talking about your own. That being said, I have all the freedom I want to speak about Indians, good, bad, or stereotypical.
The first point that should be understood is that most of the Indian families in America are extremely well off on the professional ladder, more often than not falling into the professions of Doctors or Engineers. Now, most people would laugh at this generalization, but it is all too true. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of the Indians in this country were brought here because of their expertise in those fields. In India, there obviously are people with every sort of profession; but here, only those at the top came over, and it became expected for all Indian children to become top notch professionals as well (namely in the fields of medicine or technology).
I couldn’t even guess as to how many times I’ve had that stereotype thrown in my direction. People, especially those of the Indian community, have grown to expect it. To take any other profession is “selling yourself short.” This has been the expectation for so long that they have just recently started accepting business as an acceptable profession.
My father is white-American, and my mother is Indian. Growing up, it was always my mother that would push my brother and me to be scholastically successful. Don’t get me wrong, my dad, being a college professor, would have pushed us himself, but with my mother there, he really didn’t have to. I have always been good at science, and extremely gifted at math. Based on this, my mother had her heart set on my becoming an engineer.
When I adamantly refused to follow her guidance in choosing my college degree, there was a lot of tension between my mother and me. To be perfectly honest, I had wanted to go into theater, but that was unacceptable. Even though it was never spoken, I always wondered if a large amount of my mother’s objections stemmed from the expectations of the rest of the Indian community. Simply stated, when Indians get together, the men talk about business, the women talk about their children, and the kids just watch TV and socialize in the other room. When it comes to Indian women, their success is not based on their personal merits, but those of their kids. Being a home-mom is perfectly acceptable, so long as their child is a great success.
Getting straight to the point, my mother had already committed a taboo in marrying my father; not only was he white, but he had already gone through a before meeting my mother. Ironically enough, this was the exact fear that her parents had verbalized before her coming to the states. So, for my mother to raise a thespian, it would have been quite the scandal. So, the nearest acceptable outlet for me to indulge in was English. So, to get my fix, I made sure that most of my classes were play and/or theater based. In all actuality, my intentions had always been to become an English and drama teacher; so when I gave in, I replaced my theater aspirations with a minor in mathematics, which like I said, I was always gifted in. However, that hasn’t kept me from bringing drama into the classroom. J
Eventually though, being a good mother, she came around in support of her child. I think this change truly took hold after she saw me in action and witnessed first hand how happy teaching made me. Like all parents, both my mother and father have always told me to follow my dreams. When my mother came to realize that my goals were truly my dreams, she became extremely supportive of me, and was very proud and happy for me when I landed my first teaching job.
Now here’s the most outrageous reality of my world. If I were a teacher in India, I would be highly respected. In India, teachers are actually referred to as master. But here in the great U.S. of A, I failed to reach the social expectations of the Indian community. This became painfully apparent during my fist year of teaching. I remember talking to an extended family member at our annual Christmas party at my aunt’s house; he was, of course, another doctor in the family. With great pride, I excitedly told him all about the classes I was teaching, spending a little extra time talking about my 12th grade Brit-Lit class. When I had paused in my talking, he asked me if I was doing anything else, to which I responded by telling him that I was also taking a couple of night classes to work towards my masters…and I’ll never forget what happened next: he smiled, sighed with relief, and said, “oh good…as long as you’re getting your masters.” I was floored! Any and all respect I had for this man disappeared in an instant. I took a deep breath, held my tongue, and walked away, saying that I was going to get more food. Anything I could have said at that moment wouldn’t have been very pleasant…and if you don’t have anything nice to say…well…you know the rest.
So…now that I’ve thoroughly bashed the Indian community, I will do a complete 180 and say that I wouldn’t give it up for anything else in the world. Even though some of their priorities in life are extremely screwed up, namely their belief that money and prestige is more important than happiness in a profession, they are some of the most supportive and loving people that you will encounter. I know that this sounds as if it negates everything I’ve said to this point, but it is most assuredly a different line of generosity.
Indians have a value of family and community unlike any other. When a guest in an Indian household, you are treated like royalty. Guests aren’t aloud to pay for anything or even help clean up anything. We take care of our own, so to speak. It’s almost as if every Indian is a family member of each other. Here’s a perfect example: In the summer of 2000, I was driving home from California. On the way home, late at night, I check into a small hotel just off the freeway. It just so happened that it was owned by an Indian family, and when I was checking in, the man asked me if I was Indian, and then proceeded to only charge me $20 instead of the $55 that the room normally runs. To follow this up, when I was checking out the next morning, I was invited into his home, which was a part of the hotel, to have breakfast with his family.
Even if our priorities might not be supportive of passion, there is endless generosity and support in all other aspects of life. If there is something that we can do for another person that is in need, we don’t even hesitate. I’ve seen my family do it, I’ve seen my extended family do it, and I’ve even been touched by Indians who were complete strangers to me. We are a culture that wants the best for those we love. Even though it goes against every belief I have about passion and finding your own path in life, I can understand the pressure that is laid upon us to become doctors and engineers. They think that is what’s best for us…and the best is what they want to give.
I am admittedly a cross product of the Indian community and a supporter of the American dream. The only thing that separates me from the traditional Indian value system is that I support passions and dreams above money and prestige. In other words, I support the person as an individual, expecting them to find their own way to shine.
A perfect example of this can be seen through my former student, Sora. In the 2003 school year, Sora was a senior in my Brit-Lit classroom. By far, she was my best writer and student. However, her home life became a disaster and she was practically disowned by her parents. Because of this, she was forced to move in with the parents of a friend of hers. From there, she commuted into school each day, determined to succeed.
Then one day, her car broke down, which resulted in her having to drop out of school to work full time, save up money for another car, and then start back up later on. I refused to let this happen! Without so much as a moments thought, I went out, bought a new car and gave her the 96 Contour that I had been driving. She broke down in tears at my generosity and asked if there was anything that she could do for me. My only answer was, “prove me right. I did this because I believe in you…so just show me that I wasn’t wrong.” And she did just that; she became the senior class president, did wonderfully in school, and then was accepted to a school in Israel that only takes in 17 girls a year. If I had to pick one thing that I was most proud of in my life, it would be this. And I have to say, if it weren’t for my Indian experiences, I probably wouldn’t have done it.
I have taken many Indian values into my soul, and although the majority of my story here has been a rant, I hope that I’ve made it clear that I treasure my background with all of my heart…well, at least 90% of it.