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 20th. 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.
NYTimes Arts
