Fitting In

An overarching theme for my life since having moved to the States at the age of seven is not “fitting in.” I was completely comfortable in my skin in India and then became a freak upon landing in Massachusetts in 1974. I dressed differently from everyone, wore my hair differently, ate differently and spoke differently.

I won’t say I have reached a point when I felt like I truly fit in, at least not for long periods of time. Fitting in at school was a challenge that only grew with time. I didn’t know how to be like my peers and have the life they had, and the older I got, the more I felt I could not have the life they had or participate in the activities they did. In a sense, my cultural heritage felt like a curse, like being from India meant I needed to stay away from anything my parents deemed to be American. My parents seemed to resist much of American culture–as if embracing the culture would somehow take away from our “Indianness” or “Brahminess.” Oddly though, they encouraged me to speak in English at home (unlike my older siblings), which meant I ended up with somewhat of a language barrier with my family as I spoke in English and they responded in our language, particularly my mother.

A lot seemed to be a threat to a good Brahmin girl, but the expectations for exactly what a good Brahmin girl was weren’t clear—leaving me even more confused. I got the sense it included much misery. I didn’t see my mother or older sisters seek out self-fulfillment or their passions as individuals. Laughter and fun certainly were not part of the mix. This didn’t seem to be the lot for South Asian girls.

We moved an average of every two years and finally settled in Charlotte, North Carolina after living in Tennessee for two years. Within the South Asian community in the South, I was part of a minority. Most Indians were from Gujarat and spoke their state’s language. We spoke a Rajasthani dialect, like a handful of other South Asians in the U.S. We could not form our own community like the Bengalis or South Indians did. My mother had no friends with whom she could easily communicate.

I was not permitted to be a cheerleader, go to the prom or spend the night at friends’ homes like my South Asian peers. I suppose the reason was we were Brahmin, or maybe we were trying to be better Brahmins? All I knew was that I was miserable not being able to do things like hang out with other South Asians at camp, and my misery worsened by not understanding why. Even asking meant I was not being a good Brahmin girl. The usual response for anything I asked was, “Your siblings didn’t ask or do such and such, so why should you?”

I wanted to scream that I was a different person. It was annoying that my three older siblings weren’t doing any “trail blazing” for me as my friends’ older siblings were for them. My two older sisters and brother maintained their “fresh-off-the-boat” status while I became an ABCD. At some level our immigration and the subsequent lack of adaptation contributed to a disconnect between us that continues to today. I found it harder to relate to them and their mates as they entered arranged marriages to individuals from India.

I don’t think my parents understood how abnormal they were making me feel and its impact on me, my emotional development and my self-esteem. It was hard to get to know myself in my confinement. My mother’s inability to drive further alienated me, since she could not drive me to extracurricular activities. She would have had to learn to read and write English to pass a driving test to get her license. But she didn’t seem to be able to get through classes to learn sufficiently. She also relied on the rest of the family for other tasks, such as writing checks.

I think a lack of confidence held her back from learning English, perhaps as a result of immigrating. I grew up feeling bad for her—it made me protective and defensive of her. She knew several Indian languages and had communicated in writing in Sindhi, which looks difficult and impressive to me. Because she was an immigrant, I recall people speaking loudly to her, and I would respond in anger that she was not deaf, she just didn’t understand English.

Once I was able to drive, I worked when not in school. Beyond this phase, there was no role-modeling of any future choices besides marriage, which I did not want to consider for myself for a long time. In fact, I was surprised by friends who thought about it.

My three older siblings did not help my cause because they conformed to the extreme orthodox culture at home. They were perfectly fine with having mates chosen for them and not learning about their purposes for being on the planet—and they were not interested in mentoring me to find mine. My desire to find my path was finally thwarted when the clashes at home culminated with my marriage at the age of 18 and move to another city with a man I did not know.

At this point, I did not “fit in” with the Brahmin Indians that my in-laws were. They all had the same last name and married others with the same last name, making me an outsider who had been born with a different last name. They had a book about their specific customs that I was to make my bible. There definitely seemed to be a sense of elitism, a club I would not be allowed to join. I would never fit in and would remain an outsider.

The marriage ended after five years, and I was done with “Indians.” During my time growing up here, I decided I was mostly American and that I would connect with an American more. It seemed safer at least. So I married a Caucasian and a wrong one for me.

I remember going to my new husband’s small town in Ohio and thinking I was probably the first Indian to have been there. There was no curiosity about my heritage, even after I took my mate to a trip to India and showed him the Taj Mahal. My in-laws didn’t even inquire about how it was to see a magnificent wonder of the world. They did not seem to understand my heritage or have even met an Indian before me.

At family get-togethers, I got to know Brett*, who was married to my husband’s sister. I had always assumed my in-laws had favored Brett over me since he was white and had a similar heritage. At the end of both of our marriages, he and I had a lengthy conversation about his ex-wife and my ex-husband and the dysfunctional dynamics in the families whom we held partially responsible for our divorces. I learned he had not been very popular with my in-laws or at least had fallen from their graces. It was an eye-opener for me, realizing maybe I was not such a freak to them with my different background. The concept of belonging and fitting in seems to be relative. Most of us have perceptions of being different from others, which increases or decreases depending on our environment.

Elements like music can connect us temporarily, making us feel like we are going through the same thoughts and experiences. Since my third husband and I are only two months apart in age, we can feel a connection listening to ‘80s music or seeing a film by John Hughes. All of us who were teens in the mid-1980s can relate to most of the same music and movies that affected us. We were all struggling with knowing ourselves, fitting in and, at the same time, wanting to be different. Although this is common for most generations, it is a theme that played out prominently in the media for my generation through film, music and our most prominent political memory of Tiananmen Square.

The older I’ve become, the more I’ve realized how similar we all are in fundamental ways such as our basic hopes and aspirations. We all basically want the same things, such as security, good health, prosperity and love. At the same time, I appreciate, want to explore and enjoy all our differences. I’ve learned and integrated aspects of a Western culture that help me feel more whole. The characteristics that I attribute to growing up in the States include a sense of independence, confidence, self-reliance and a wry sense of humor.

I’ve learned not to take myself too seriously. I’ve been able to joke about myself and aspects of my life easily. I attribute my humbleness to my Indian side and a strong spiritual side to my Hindu heritage along with influences of Western thinking. My bi-racial preteen son and toddler daughter benefit from a mother who is balanced by two cultures with much to offer. The passing of my father and my oldest sister in the past year have created further resolve in me to raise my children the best that I can and to make a difference in their lives and perhaps others through some of my experiences.

I wish I could give my kids the pristine memories I have of my childhood in a village in India. I felt like Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie. No TV and general simplicity left a lot of room for a sense of wonder, adventures, innocence and imagination. I feel enriched by that time in my life.

Overall, I strive to give my family all that I am as a result of what I have gained from my past and continue to gain by my present and future. I focus on my values and feel that the purpose of the rest of my life is to be as authentic as possible–to myself, my family and anyone I meet.

*Names have been changed.

K. Pria Acharya Ingrum was seven when she moved to the U.S. from India. She moved every two years growing up and eventually settled in Denver as an adult. Pria’s educational background includes an MBA in market strategy, bachelor's in English writing and psychology, certificates in Asian studies, legal studies and contract management. Pria’s work experiences include public relations, advertising, marketing, sales, freelance writing, teaching writing and literature and contract management. Now a busy mom to an infant daughter and preteen son, she takes breaks by blogging and establishing herself as an entrepreneur.