Notes From a First Generation Pakistani American
In August of 1947, approximately fourteen million people were forced to abandon their familial lands and engage in the partition of British India. In this division, religion was the determinant. Hindus and Sikhs hastened inside the newly established borders of India while Muslims went towards their designated state of Pakistan¹. During this time, a mutual genocide occurred between the people of different faiths, resulting in hundreds of thousands of deaths², especially in the region of Punjab. At the age of sixteen, Muhammad Ali, my Nanabu³, became a survivor of this mass murder and migration. It took about a month for my Nanabu and his parents to reach west Pakistan. They eventually settled in the Pakistani village of Sahiwal. My Nanabu performed odd jobs before he was able to establish himself as a law clerk. From then on, he would serve as a source for legal advice throughout the village community. And together with my Naani, they had six children: five girls and one boy. Through the years, they —like many others— would tell their children stories of the partition. I first heard my grandfather’s tale ten years after his death. His story is so bizarre, yet entirely valid. A harrowing primary resource that for the most part I consider to be the beginning of my roots.
¹The Dominion of Pakistan consisted of East Pakistan and West Pakistan. In 1971, East Pakistan became the independent nation of Bangladesh.
²An estimated 500,000-800,000 Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs were murdered during the genocide.
³affectionate term for maternal grandfather
Education was of great importance to my maternal grandparents. Considering that they endured the loss of almost all of their possessions, its easy for me to understand why. Knowledge and skill can follow you anywhere. And so, my maternal grandfather encouraged (and paid for) all of his children to continue their education after secondary school. In fact, they all attended (and dormed at) Punjab University in Lahore, Pakistan miles away from their village of Sahiwal. My mother received both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in Political Science. After graduating, she continued as a professor at a local university in Islamabad, Pakistan. Although she never worked (save a few odd jobs) upon immigrating to the United States, her political science education (as well as her knowledge of poetry) is extremely evident in my daily interactions with her. She is always impressing her strong opinions about societal problems and politics—American politics and Pakistani politics alike—to whoever will listen.
Education was of little importance to my paternal grandparents, but still they happily paid for my father’s education. My father, the youngest child out of more than eight children, was the first in the family to attend college instead of working on the family grain farm. My father also attended Punjab University, earning a bachelor’s in Earth Science and master’s degree in Petroleum Geology. After graduating, he worked for Oil & Gas Development Company of Pakistan for a number of years before immigrating with my mother to the United States. My father worked a number of odd jobs in a number of states before settling in New York to start a career as a Real Estate Developer. I thoroughly enjoy listening to him repeat his stories about working at a Pizza Hut or as a newspaper delivery man. As a self-employed Real Estate Developer, my dad orchestrates the construction of a hotel or condominium building. He specifically works on projects in Long Island City. I must admit that I think my father is exceptionally good at his job in regards to his dealings with architects, bankers, engineers, lawyers, and investors. Although English may be his second language, his diction is excellent. Many people in our community seek my father out for business or investment advice. Sometimes I consider pursuing a career like his, but my father does not encourage it. Ultimately, I think he would rather I have a job with guaranteed stability.
My identity as a first generation Pakistani American is the result of two migrations. Sometimes its hard for me to wrap my head around that. My parents’ immigration to the United States is not the only (recent) migration in the family. There is another. The courage of refugees —at least in part—allowed me this comfortable life I have, that I have always had. With this in mind, I feel both my parents’ and my grandparents’ educational background influenced my educational choices. As parents in Pakistan, my grandparents were limited by how much money they could allot towards education. I think my mother would have liked to pursue medicine, but the cost (as well as the incredible level of competition) prevented her from doing so. That said, my parents are convinced that education is limitless and any career is attainable in the United States. I am convinced of that, too. I could say that the disadvantages of my roots are Islamaphobia and stereotypes of a South Asian female. I could say that. However, I do not think I’m phased by these disadvantages. I see more opportunity than lack of opportunity. I probably cannot be elected president, but I can be an internal medicine physician. And thats what I want. For this reason, I am confident in my decision to study pre-med and English. From my parents, I have adopted this unwavering desire to accomplish my set goals as well as this refusal to modify my goals in the face of failure. I cannot be sure if thats a good or bad thing. In regards to my expectations of work, I fully understand from my parents that there is a long laborious road to achieving your goals.
My grandparents played a huge role in my going away to college. Some Muslim girls are not allowed to live on their own, and so they commute to college from home. The fact that my maternal grandfather allowed my mother to go away to school contributed a lot to her quickness in allowing me to do the same. Still, my father’s generally liberal attitude also had something to with it. My parents trust me. A lot. I think the weight of a parent’s trust (in a child to take their education seriously) goes a lot further than extreme nosiness.
I have to say that my family history is a something that interests me deeply. The experiences—good and bad—-of my parents and grandparents influence my writing tremendously. Going further, I have a lot of opinions about the socio-political issues in Pakistan. That said, I feel a community with first generation Pakistani-Muslim Americans. This is the privilege of my roots. I feel a connection to my history…to my grandparents…my parents…and my sisters. And I recognize a communal struggle and pride of first generation children. I think the story of a first generation child is a pretty powerful narrative in itself. One that I want to write. And thus, my community is connected to my choice of discipline in college.
