Immigration is a big change for anyone especially a seven year old. It’s not hard to imagine what goes through her head as she’s sitting on an airplane for the first time, panting and panicking about death, seat belt tightly tied around her waist, and occasionally looking at the beautiful stewardess in awe as they walked back and forth.

My mom is a nurse, she filed to immigrate to the U.S. as a registered nurse in 2003, and got her visa in August of 2004. She flew here by herself, and as soon as she was settled she filed to bring her family which at the time included, my father and I. When I first heard the news, I was so excited. It was as if I could leave my life that I had built up in Kerala and start anew. Mainly because, my primary school teacher always used to hit me, and now I was saved from the ridicule of my fellow classmates. I was also glad to leave behind a love affair I had started with a boy in my school, who always used to bother me even after I broke up with him…TWICE! At the same time, there was something about Kerala that I was going to miss. The bright green patty fields, the smell of the rich soil, the coolness of the monsoon rain, the fish that tickle your feet when you stand in the canal, the butterflies that flutter away as try to catch them, and so many more. How can I leave these behind? At the age of seven, I was forced to make one of the biggest decisions I was yet to make. It was very difficult for me because there was so many people that I knew as well, my grandparents, neighbors, cousins, relatives etc. They were all very close to my heart. I was about to go to a country where I was going to be alone. But, the truth was that I had no choice other than to accept what my parents had decided.

My cousin (left), grandfather (back), and I
-Kerala, 2002

My first grade class, teacher and principle
-Kerala, 2003

I still remember the night we were leaving. I was packing my handbag, and my grandfather came into my room, and kissed me on the forehead. I started to cry because I knew he wouldn’t be able to function without me. We were best buddies. He handed me something that he had cherished all his life. It was our family Bible given to his father by the Bishop of Antioch. He gave it to me and said three things which I remember so precisely, they were: study hard, come home, and never let go of God. I remember holding the Bible so tightly as I was sitting on the plane and the pilot announced take off. It was the strength and support for my frail body through everything even when I took the first step onto American soil.

The Holy Bible in Malayalam given to me by my grandfather

At the time, my mother worked in Interfaith Medical Hospital, and for convenience we rented an apartment in Brooklyn, New York near Classon Avenue. During my stay, I was so lonely, and couldn’t even even make a friend in my apartment building because no one spoke Malayalam (language of Kerala). But the worst was yet to come. Elementary School…it still gives me shivers. Going to school in Brooklyn was probably one of the biggest cultural shock I have ever experienced. I was the odd man out, and as any other typical immigrant, “fresh off the boat”, I was picked on and bullied for smelling like curry, having oil in my hair, wearing the most unfashionable pieces of clothing, and most of all being the only brown skinned girl amidst white and black skin color. I hated my first few months in America because it gave me some of the worst life experiences. I started to hate myself and forget who I was until then. It was around that time, my family and I started to go to a nearby Lutheran church and it became something I looked forward to every week. There was singing, shouting and something so special about that place to me. Each week I would go there, something would tell me that I could make it, and that I will be okay. To my surprise, school was getting better. I started to do better in my classes and I guess my classmates had grown tired of making fun of me. They were surprisingly a bit more accepting although some jokes never went away. Things were starting to look a lot brighter for me. From then on, religion has played an important role in my life in a way that has influenced my every action.

Growing up in America and keeping close with the culture back home is really difficult because I am surrounded by American culture all the time. One way that I built a bridge or balance both cultures is through taking classical Indian dance classes. It is something that I love to do and at the same time it allows me to remain grounded in my culture. Dancing has given me a whole new language of communication and also a lot of friends who are also in similar circumstances as I am. I don’t think I would have been able to cope with a big change if it wasn’t for dancing because it has shown me that I am not alone and there are people from the same backgrounds as I am. Dancing has allowed me to become part of cultural ritual celebrations that I wouldn’t have normally participated in. For example, a celebration called Onam, which is a festival for the harvest season back home.

My anklets

However, sometimes I detach from my culture as well, mostly when I argue with my parents or behave disrespectfully towards them. I throw these episodes very rarely and they usually occur when I am not allowed to go out with my friends. When I ask, the mood changes and suddenly I am treated like a suspect in a detective movie. The questions include Who? Are they Malayalee (people of Kerala)?, if they are, where in Kerala are they from?, what do their parents do?, and so many more. Usually I hit my breaking point and just walk away from them, give them the silent treatment, or in worse case scenarios yell my heart out and cry but, afterwards I would always feel guilty because there is a constant voice in my head that reminds me of how hard both of them work to feed me and give me the best opportunities. It is quite common in American culture for children to fight with their parents but, in Indian culture parents are equaled to God. Keeping these principles was especially hard for me as an adolescent because it was a hindrance in my social life. When my friends got boyfriends and started to explore different things to find out who they were, I would stay home and study. Although I would get upset, I realized I wouldn’t feel satisfied disobeying my parents or pressuring them to agree to something. This might be because I was rooted in Indian culture but I can never contemplate on hurting my parents. They are my motivation.

I often think how I would have been if I were to stay in India. I am 100% sure that I would be a totally different person. I think coming to America at a young age and growing up here has made me a diverse individual. I can proudly say I am a daughter of both India and America and I am satisfied with my identity.