If you ask me “what is your ethnicity?” numerous answers come to mind. I could say I’m half Italian, a little Austrian, German, Czechzlovokian, basically I am a descendant from every white nation in Europe. I don’t know anyone who is as white as I am; my last name even means “white” in Italian. Despite the fact that I’m the King of the Caucasians, I most truly and deeply believe that I am American. I was born and raised in Bayside as an American, I never followed a religion, never took part in any traditions that relate back to my family’s ethnicity, I just lived my life as an American. Everywhere I look I see everyone trying to bring their culture to New York City, which is not a bad thing. I love the fact that I can walk a couple of blocks from my house and find cuisine from across the world ranging from China, to Mexico, to India, to Italy, anywhere I can imagine. But sometimes I feel like everyone forgets that America has a culture of its own, and its always overlooked or taken for granted. In order for Queens to be truly diverse I feel someone has to represent America’s culture along with everyone else who incorporates their ethnicities into the community.

In my eyes, the best way to express a culture is by sharing their fine culinary arts. Food represents culture in a form that can be enjoyed by everyone. You may not like how it tastes, but you can still learn a lot about the culture. Living in a predominantly Asian community, I have eaten some very eccentric foods to say the least. Over the course of my life I have consumed chicken feet, jellyfish stingers, frog legs, goat thighs, and many more dishes that some people might find undesirable. Surprisingly, I quite enjoyed most of the foods that I ate, and more importantly I learned a lot about the culture, even a little bit of the language. This got me thinking about American cuisine. When you think about it, we never say “I’m in the mood for American tonight.” There is nothing more American than a tender, succulent burger with lettuce, tomato, onions, pickles, cheese, and ketchup, perfectly layered between two soft sesame seed buns. Mmm, I love American culture. The world could learn so much just by simply eating one of these heavenly patties.

Eating the burger is just one small factor in the quest to learn about American culture. The cheeseburger brings Americans together whether it’s for lunch, dinner, holidays, parties, anything. On very patriotic holidays, you will always find families throwing a barbeque and frying up some burgers on the grill. Barbecues are a huge tradition that Americans hold true to our hearts and will continue be a tradition for the rest of our lives. I will never forget those hot summer days when my dad would fire up some burgers on the grill and play baseball with my brothers and I in the backyard, memories that can only be made in America. Even Baseball, America’s favorite pastime, can make its way back to the cheeseburger. Starting with the food could teach you everything about a culture; in America you have to start with the cheeseburger.

A cheeseburger is a work of art to say the least

Considering I spent much of my time the past 3 days in synagogue for Rosh Hashana, it was pretty clear to me that I was going to write about my Jewish culture for this blog. But Jewish culture means something different to everyone, so the exact details took me a while to figure out.

At first it seems strange that I’m calling a religion my culture. If you want to be picky, I’m German, Polish, and Hungarian, but within all those places, my grandparents were part of the smaller, self contained, community of Jews.  They really did not interact with the culture around them.

Even in America, I grew up in a town with a lot of Jews. I went to Jewish schools, Jewish camps, and the same synagogue every week. Despite being in the cultural melting pot that is America, I saw a pretty isolated view of the world. My Judaism has been the defining culture in my life.

So what do I feel is a piece of art that defines that culture? Actually, it’s a song. But nothing fancy, sung by performers. Appropriately enough, it’s a prayer. But oddly, it’s not the meaning of the prayer that speaks to me or the beauty of the composition. In fact, looking for a clip of it on YouTube was rather disappointing. All the videos are opera singers, or groups trying to add some pop to the song. The real beauty of the song lies in the true setting.

Every time I’ve heard the song “Etz Chaim Hi” in synagogue, I feel an instant connection to everyone in the room. It’s a slow and low song. Everyone in the room comes together to sing it. No matter where you are, there is always one person who will harmonize beautifully. For the two minutes that the song is being sung (when the torah scroll is being returned to the ark) nothing else is going on in the room. There is absolutely no side conversation. Everyone is just wholly invested in singing.

To me, this has always been so beautiful. No matter what your life is outside of synagogue, for those few moments, you are a part of a greater community. I’m not usually one to find spiritual meaning in everyday life, but for some reason the song has always given me chills.

(Here’s the basic idea of the song : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1T8SMZ2qsk  Sadly, much of the beauty is lost when sung by only one person.)

When there’s a lot of information in my head to process, I tend to use lists to organize it all. So here goes.

I am:

1. Jewish

2. Israeli

3. Yemenite

4. Tunisian

I believe the best way to go about this list would be to explain how I feel about each of the communities I belong to, in an attempt to make sense of how the four coexist.

Being Jewish–it comes first to me, automatically, unconsciously.  The fact that I’m Jewish grants me a sense of stability, a sense of direction in my day to day actions.  While it’s a religion, and not necessarily a cultural or ethnic community, I so heavily rely on it that a sense of community is created.  Furthermore, the reason I categorize it as a community is specifically because of where I live: New York City.  NYC has one of the highest Jewish populations in the entire world, not including Israel; subsequently, a Jewish ‘community’ has been established here.  The community branches off into numerous smaller communities depending on the town one lives in, but there is a sense of community as a whole, and each person can find a sense of belonging in this whole.  It’s beautiful to me how the Jewish community in New York thrives, and how people are always there for each other.  It gives me pride to see how such a small percentage of people (.2% of the world’s population?) come together and build a community.

Being Israeli–I would say it comes second because it doesn’t govern my day-to-day actions like my religion does.  Nonetheless, it is an important part of who I am.  I belong to a community of zionists, those who believe in the State of Israel for the Jews.  I was born there, I was partially raised there, and I always have a connection to Israel. It is also encompassed by my “Jewish” communal identification because the community of Jews I belong to in New York City has a strong traditional tie to the land.  I was raised here with the outlook that Israel has importance and significance, and so my identification as an ‘Israeli’ really falls under the umbrella of “Jewish.”

Being Yemenite and Tunisian–I group the two together because they are of equal importance to me.  My mother is Yemenite, and my father is Tunisian, and there is no choosing sides for me.  I value both cultures equally, with their various customs and beliefs.  They are cultures that I love, and appreciate more and more as I get older. They too, fall under the big umbrella of “Jewish,” and it is why I put them third and fourth on my list of identities.

What stands out most in my mind about both cultures is their hospitality and warmth.  Anyone walking into either of my grandparents house is greeted with food, drinks, a place of comfort to sit and relax, and it’s a feature of the traditional people of those times that I awe-inspiring.  It is such a pleasure to identify with such cultures.

It’s difficult for me to choose one piece of art that has special significance to me, but there’s just something about Yemenite music that touches my core being.  While I was in Israel this past summer, my Yemenite grandparents took me to a Yemenite music festival, and I was simply mesmerized.  Listening to alluring music, staring at the exquisite costumes, watching the men and women dance; I felt so in tune with my culture. In lieu of that, the following song by Ofra Haza is one I believe has incredible meaning to me.  Ofra Haza was a well-known, traditional Yemenite singer of the 70s-90s, but passed away prematurely in 2000.  Every time my mom plays her CD, of which the first song is the one I am posting (Im Nin’alu), the music radiates within me.  The Yemenite culture I am somewhat detached from comes flooding back to me, and I feel it.  Ask me to explain what it means, and I’ll have no idea what to tell you.  But you know that feeling when you’re really feeling a song?  That’s how it is.

Ayiti peyi mwen, Haiti is my country.

Both my parents were born in Haiti. When they were in their early twenties they immigrated to New York where they met and had me. Even though I was born in Queens and hadn’t stepped a foot off the continent of North America until this summer, all my life I’ve still felt a close connection to Haiti. I’ve always considered my self more “Haitian” than “American.” And though visiting my homeland brought me some pain, through the rubbles I saw the beauty that used to stand there, and some of that beauty that still exists.

While I was visiting Haiti I got the opportunity to go visit a few places, and one of them was the National Palace, where the president used to live. I actually took this picture.

Now where it stands is a sad reminder of what the country has gone through, the earthquake, the cholera, and the political social turmoil.

Or maybe it can stand for something else.

You see Haiti has had a history of political corruption. In October of 1957, Francois “Papa Doc” Duvalier became President, nicknamed “Papa Doc” because before he served as president he was a physician. A little after his vote into presidency, he basically declared himself president for as long as he lived. His “reign” included a removal of the governments military, which led to the creation of rural militias, and the practice of voodoo. After “Papa Doc” died, there was a succession of power. His son Jean-Claude “Baby Doc” ruled for fifteen years until an uprising pulled him out of power.

During the Duvaliers’ dictatorships, money had been squandered, positions had been bribed, and large number of people had been imprisoned or put to death simply because they did not believe in what their leaders were doing to them. Now that was about twenty-five years ago, but Haiti has never really recovered.

This photo shows the ruins of the National Palace, but to me this photo represents a new beginning. The fall of the National Palace symbolizes a new start for the people of Haiti. I doubt all their problems will simply vanish, but hopefully this new chapter will bring about something that has never happened before. Currently, the people are putting all their hopes in their new leader, President Michel Martelly. This is fine I suppose, but what the people do not realize is that they cannot just wait around for change, they must also reach for it themselves. The people of Haiti must also work for it.

Namaste mere dosts! (Warm greetings to everyone in Hindi). Despite residing in the United States all my life, my heart belongs to India only. Of course I have grown attached to the United States, but the multitudes of culture and traditions of India have made me the very person I am today. While being raised up in the United States, I was exposed to several instances of Indian culture, such as the grand ceremonial weddings that can last for a week (the length of my parents wedding!), the delectable foods, and the religious beliefs. I greatly respect my religion, for it gives me a sense of hope and the chains I wear around my neck illustrate this. Even though my family and I are not overly religious, we still follow some of its practices. For instance, we built a mandar (temple in Hindi) in our home for prayers, we show respect to our elders by touching their feet, and have festivities to express our love for our Bgwhaan (G0d) and Indian counterparts. In addition, I can speak and understand Hindi, but still need to learn how to read and write. In fact, I know more Spanish than I do Hindi (got to love the irony…) Nevertheless, I will continue to learn my culture and respect it.

When I was young my parents instilled many important values within and taught me about the beautiful sights in India, such as the Golden Temple of India and the Taj Mahal. I have visited India three times, but it was the last visit that I can lucidly recall. In my 3rd visit to India, I was about 13 years old and witnessed the grand culture India so magnificently displayed to me. Here, allow me to describe the scene for you (this was in New Delhi, India): houses with flat rooftops, the cows walking on the streets, children playing with stray dogs, and wonderfully designed temples permeated throughout the city. It definitely was a new sight for me, for I have seen nothing like this in New York City. Furthermore, I was fortunate enough to have been in India during the summer because I had the opportunity celebrate with my family Independence Day in India on August 15th. I remember vividly the thousands of kites that were flying in the clear, blue sky and all the children and adults who were persistently trying to knock down each others kites; the large gathering of people who were dancing to the tune of a drum and singing. Seeing everyone have a merry time was truly was a glorious sight.

Also, a cool fact of me is most of the family members from my dad’s side of the family live in the United States now and all my mom’s family, who lived in India all their lives, just recently moved to Malaysia (how exciting!). Even though I am patriotic towards my country, India, I would not opt to live there due to the difficult conditions of life there and extremely torrid, humid weather (last time I went during the summer it reached a whopping 112 degrees!). Even though I haven’t been to India in over 5 years now, I am fortunate enough to partake in many scintillating Indian festivities in the United States. For example, this summer I went to my cousin’s wedding, which lasted for about 5 days and it was spectacular. Here let me share with you the extravagant and cultural aspects of this costly wedding: the groom appeared on a white horse, which was greatly ornamented with brilliantly jeweled clothing, people dancing around the groom while the drums were being played (called ‘Dhol’), the bride wearing heavy sets of gold and clothing around her, a priest to perform the ceremonial and religious aspects of the wedding, and a beautifully decorated dining hall (there’s more…but this shall suffice, :D). Basically, even after living in the United States I have had the chance to celebrate and enjoy my Indian culture.

Next, I would like to the introduce ‘bhangra,’ a dance that holds a special significance in my culture. Basically, bhangra is a type of dance that combines pop music from Western civilizations with Indian Punjabi music. I find this dance as a significant part of my culture because it portrays the merriment and sense of community between two different groups of people; it depicts the relationship between Indians and the people from the West and a delightful amalgamation of two completely different cultures can be seen. To see this sense of unity between these groups of people makes me happy and shows that everyone can get along in some form, in this case through music and culture. Bhangra is one of the dominant forms of music in modern Indian culture today and I must say that bhangra can get a timid person like me dancing on my feet!

Overall, these Indian customs and religious beliefs have become an important part of my life. Even to this day, I enjoy listening to Indian music more than any other form of music and would prefer Indian food over anything. I might be in some sense American, but I consider myself to be a true Indian and will always uphold this belief. With all the amazing things Indian culture has offered to me, I can definitely say that I am proud to be an Indian.

I’m a mutt. Yeah, most people wouldn’t want to stick themselves with that term, but there’s no other way to describe my heritage. Puerto Rican, Italian, German, and lastly  Irish. So, where does my loyalty lie? To make my life simpler when explaining I tend to say Spanish and Italian.  However, if I really sit down and think about it, Aren’t we all just really American? If we’re born here, does that not mean we “pledge our allegiance” here? 

 ANYWAY…

When I think about what culture I really feel comfortable with, it’s definitely with the Italians. I mean come on, who could resist that amazing Sunday dinner and the entire family knowing all your business. Okay, maybe I can pass on the whole nosey family thing but the food, oh man…the food. Every time we all get together it’s like a buffet, and even though every year we promise to make less, it always seems to be more. The pasta, the chicken, the eggplant, the pasta, the salad, the pasta, its endless. I can’t even get started on the desserts! It seems like every time we meet it’s to feed an army. I live by the quote “home is where the heart is.” My heart lies with my family without a doubt.

I’ll admit it, that’s totally not my family, but in my dorm I don’t have the resources I need to uncover a family portrait. However, this could very easily be my family. The ridiculous amount of children and the rowdy adults. I may be a hell of a lot of things, but Italian is the one I’m most proud of…

Unless you watch Jersey Shore, that’s just embarrassing.

Happy October !

In my show and tell blog, blog numba five, I would like to tell you about my community: Persians. Note: also known as Iranians but frankly, Persians sounds a lot cooler. Think about it, Persia vs. The Islamic Republic of Iran…clearly, no competition.

Even though I was born in America I’ve always considered myself a Persian. After all, literally my entire family is from Persia. Now I won’t talk about any of the icky politics because it’s quite the grrr-inducing topic. Instead, I want to tell you all about the best thing about being Persian…celebrating the Persian New Year, Nowruz! Now I have nothing against our new year, I myself am a huge fan of watching the ball fall, screaming, and playing with those party noisemakers. But seriously, Nowruz is grrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat. It’s also much more logical than ours. The Persian New Year takes place on the spring equinox, March 20^th. As the Earth welcomes spring and the cycle of rebirth, Persians welcome their new year.

 The whole celebration starts on the last Wednesday night of the year, aka Chaharshanbe Suri. Based on the ancient traditions of Zoroastrians you jump over a fire (don’t knock it till you’ve tried it) singing zardi-ye man az to, sorkhi-ye to az man. Which means, my sickly yellow paleness is yours, your fiery red color is mine. This is meant as a purification rite.

Above, is a picture of the haft-sîn or the seven S’s another pivotal tradition in Nowruz. They are a collection of seven items starting with the letter s, each of which symbolizes something significant. They are: sabzeh (wheat – symbolizing rebirth), samanu (sweet pudding from wheat – symbolizing affluence), senjed (the dried fruit of the oleaster (sounds funny) tree (symbolizes love), sīr (garlic – symbolizing medicine), sīb (apples – symbolizing beauty and health), somaq (sumac berries – symbolizing the color of sunrise), serkeh (vinegar – symbolizing age and patience). Isn’t pretty? There are many more things you can put on the table like fish, candles, a mirror, etc. but they are optional while the haft-sīn is mandatory.

Now there’s one song that always makes my stomach full of Persian butterflies (terrible metaphor but whatchya gonna do), it’s called Nowruz and here’s the link to a clip of it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C7TfZJ7V3yc . He’s basically saying: Happy New Year everybody! I wish your New Year is full of happiness, success and downright awesomeness. Whenever I hear this song I always start jumping up and down, getting all excited, singing and dancing a long (not very well I might add). In fact, we have established a rule in my house that the song can’t be played until Nowruz is close because then I get so excited and crazy, driving my whole family berserks and all in vain because the wondrous day is months a way. Even though I sort of maybe, broke the rule when writing this blog…but shhh.

When people asked me about my ethnicity, I would automatically say “I’m Chinese”. Although I was not born in China  (I am embarrassed to say that I have never even set foot in my own country) and have been raised in Americanized surroundings, I am still very familiar with my culture. Ever since I was young, I lived with my grandma, who was very adamant in teaching her grandchildren everything she knew about our nation. Even now, when we are all grown up, she would sit us down after dinner, and tell us about the most wonderful aspects of the Chinese culture, from the different styles of martial arts, to the great leaders we’ve had. Had it not been for her, I would have been completely ignorant about my own race.

Living in such a diverse state such as New York, it gets hard to live solely by the “standards” of my own culture. For example, Chinese people are usually very conservative, which is a great contrast from the more open and friendly lifestyle of typical Americans. Even something as simple as greeting someone…Americans would hug each other or give a quick peck on the cheek. The Chinese, however, ( like my grandma) would find those gestures “more than necessary”. I find myself leaning more towards the American style. Now, when people ask me about my ethnicity, I would say “I’m Chinese-American”. Although I was raised by strict Chinese values, living in the United States for so long has made me an American just as much as I am Chinese.

One thing that our culture emphasizes very often is “family”. “Family” is one of the things that makes our country so strong. I’ve once heard the quote, “Regulated families bring about well-governed states.”I think these words are the epitome of our family oriented culture. The first thing I was taught as a toddler was to respect my elders at all times. The second thing was that there is nothing more important in the world than your own family. My parents have always told me to put my family members first, because at the end of the day, they are the ones who are always there to support and love you no matter what.

 I’m able to relate to this painting because I’ve grown up with a very big and harmonious family. This picture expresses what is most important to me and shapes our culture very well. I hope that years from now, I would have a family of my own, just like the one in the painting and teach my children the values of both American and Chinese cultures.

What’s the one song you never forget? The one song that is passed down from generation to generation, the tune that will forever stay in your mind? The ABC’s of course!

I didn’t grow up in a house with much of distinct cultural background. I grew up among some non-practicing Christian Caucasians. Sure, my father is full blow Italian, my mother is German and Polish, but their lineage never really played a hand in shaping my cultural identity. Growing up, I watched Sesame Street, read Dr. Seuss and ate apple pie. My culture is thoroughly American, and that is why I think that the ABC’s represents my culture.

You know, honestly, this song is completely under-rated. It’s one of the first songs we all learn, my mother learned it from her mother and so on and so forth and I know I will teach it to my own children. I can not tell you how many of the kids who I have babysat have come running up to me, barely able to contain their excitement as they slowly fumbled through the letters of the alphabet to the tune that sounds suspiciously like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The first time one can recite the ABC’s is the first step in reading, writing, communicating. It’s the first big step of your life.

And when you think about it, you realize that this mind-numbingly simple song, this educational nursery rhyme is a fundamental statement in our lives that first instills the American Spirit into our minds. There are so many countries, so many cultures when literacy is non-essential, when the ability to read and write is a luxury-something  only the most educated can do. But in America, being literate opens the doors to all forums of communication. Through communication can be found opportunity, which is what America stands for. Learning your ABC’s is thoroughly American.

When you can spell, you can write. When you can write you can write letters, memos, essays, articles, songs, poems, novels, resumes. All of these things will ultimately lead to your success.

So, to sum up what we have learned so far, learning the ABC’s as a child leads to learning to read, learning to spell, learning to write, which leads to opportunity and then leads to success. Theretofore, learning the ABC’s leads to success.

Success: What is possibly more sought after in America? White picket fence and a green lawn surrounding that nice house with blue shutters…it takes a lot of money to afford that particular American dream, so it requires a lot of success. But even if you don’t aspire to have any great wealth, the only way to make something of yourself, to be the person that you want to be and do the career you want to do, (also part of the American way, this idea of opportunity and freedom) is to learn your ABC’s. To me, this is one of the most significant songs in my culture, even if it didn’t originate here. The song has certainly become one of the many milestones in finding not only the “American Way” but who you are. Who would have thought it was that simple?

I consider myself a Pakistani, despite being born in America. I have grown up in the United States but never fully immersed myself in its culture. My parents have instilled Pakistani culture, values and traditions in me. They have become a big part of my life. It defines who I am. Growing up, I would wear jeans and a t-shirt to school, but I would change my clothes when I got home. I would change into traditional Pakistani clothing called shalwar kameez, because it is traditional and “modest” clothing. I would usually eat Pakistani foods for lunch and dinner. But, now that my sisters and I are older, we are exposed to other types of foods and we introduce those foods to my parents as well. Actually, now when we go out to eat, my dad prefers we have anything but Pakistani food. I haven’t watched as many American movies as I do now. I haven’t listened to a lot of American music, but I do now. I have grown up listening to and watching Pakistani music and movies. It was my parent’s attempt to teach us Pakistani culture, while living in the United States.

I’ve only visited the country twice. Once when I was 2 years old and then again when I was 9. I don’t remember much from my first visit, for obvious reasons. But visiting my country at the age of 9 was a great experience for me. I attended my cousin’s wedding, met most of my relatives, and saw a part of everyday life that I wasn’t used to. I never wore jeans during my visit, because I would be considered an outsider, a foreigner. In my attempt to learn more about my country, I rode the rickshaws, the horse-drawn rides, ate street food, visited the village, and smelled the country. It has a distinct smell, that I miss at times. I would love to visit the country again, but it’s just not possible under the current circumstances of the country.

Pakistan’s Independence Day is August 14th. Every year, there are parades and festivals throughout the city to celebrate the country’s independence. It is really important for me to attend the parades and festivals because it connects me to my country. People try to make it similar to the environment of the country, by selling country flags, traditional clothing and jewelry, and street food. It’s the closest I can get to my country’s atmosphere and environment without actually being in it.

I love attending the annual parade in Manhattan; there’s a mutual feeling of pride that exists. People show their pride by wearing the colors of the flag: green and white.

Patriotic songs arouse so much pride within me because of the emotion that they convey. My favorite Pakistani song is Dil Dil Pakistan by Vital Signs. It’s linked with national occasions and ceremonies, and is probably the most famous patriotic song after the national anthem. The title of the song means Heart, Heart, Pakistan, in its literal translation. It’s so meaningful probably because of the lyrics, which focus on the land and sky of the country. The song talks about the soul and heart of the country. I heard this song about 5 years ago, when I went to my first Pakistani Day Parade. I immediately fell in love with the song because it has so much passion and inspiration.  There’s just something special about this song that I can’t explain.  It just hits home with me, because I haven’t been able to experience the land and sky of the country as much as I would like to; but there’s still a sense of homesickness.