I am a 23 year old, brown girl from a brown land and I like other brown girls (and also girls of other colours). But you know how brown world is. They will never accept me – not my family. Suggestions?

Sincerely,

Confused brown woman

Dear “confused,”

I have been thinking about your question for a little while now; I want to give you the best possible advice. I had a friend, someone with whom I grew up, who is desi and lesbian. Her parents had been emotionally abusive and continued to do the same after she came out to them. It was a terribly difficult issue in their family.

Beta, I recommend you pursue other avenues of emotional support for yourself. Perhaps you are correct when you say your family will never support you. Create a family of friends who have had similar experiences as you and will understand what it has been like for you.

I did a little research and found a good page for you. It’s the Khush page on Sawnet’s website. Sawnet is the South Asian Women’s Network. It has listings for lesbian groups in the United States, India and in other countries. Here’s the link: http://www.sawnet.org/khush/ This page also has information about fiction and films that are germane.

Also, my dear, you are still relatively young. Please do not give up entirely on your family. Families do change over time. As your parents age, they may become different in their worldviews. I’ve seen this happen in my own family and friends’ families. Keep your eyes open and keep observing them. Perhaps there is a relative or a cousin that might be supportive? Perhaps your parents might come around? It might be that you are assuming incorrectly that they will not accept you.

In case your family doesn’t accept you and never does, don’t despair. You have many people who love you and accept you. However, it is painful to realize that your family is limited in their capacity to support you in some aspect of your life. A therapist who is a woman of color and/or lesbian may be an option to consider. Talking about this disappointment may be helpful for you and your mental health.

I wish you the very best. I feel for you, I really do. Sometimes brown world is a tough place to live, but you can do it and you can thrive. You just need to find your own place within it. If there is anything else you’d like to ask, please feel free to contact me again. Good luck.

A philosophy graduate of an esteemed  liberal arts college for women, Seema Aunty has dedicated her career thus far in promoting causes for young women and the South Asian community. With a strong knowledge base formed from her own experiences growing up in a South Asian household, Seema Aunty advises young women on a variety of topics, ranging from family, relationships, and culture.

In her own words: “I know it is hard to reconcile the idea of rugged individualism with conservative desi values. Growing up was difficult. It isn’t easy to find a place for oneself in this world when we hear mixed messages about who and how we are supposed to be. I hope that what I have learned from my own life might be of some interest to young women who are now coping with difficult issues.”

If you would like Seema Aunty to answer your burning questions, please feel free to write to her at seemaaunty@browngirlmagazine.com. All submissions will be kept confidential.

What if I don’t want to study medicine or engineering?

Dear beta,

Join the club. This is another tough road to take, but don’t worry, others have done it before you and survived. There are many Indian-Americans studying and doing unconventional careers. I think it is perfectly fine to study things besides medicine and engineering. We need artists, film-makers, novelists and philosophers in this world to make it more interesting!

So, as Nike used to say, just do it. Be smart about it. Do research on the field you’re considering. Talk to people who are in the field. Use your social contacts to find people that you might be able to talk to and be prepared when you discuss your thoughts with this person.

Another thing you will need is strength. Take it from me, beta, you will get many questions and strange looks from other South Asians. Be confident in your choice. When someone asks you what you’re going to do with a degree in whatever-it-is, look her in the eye and tell her. You know what is best for you and if that is underwater basket weaving, then by all means, weave baskets under water.

If you can find a mentor who is South Asian, this will give you some support. If you find an aunty or an uncle or a cousin or a friend who knows someone in your field, see if you can establish a mentorship with them. All you need to do is ask. There are many people out there who want to guide younger people. This can be an extremely valuable resource for you.

Good luck! You can do it.

A philosophy graduate of an esteemed  liberal arts college for women, Seema Aunty has dedicated her career thus far in promoting causes for young women and the South Asian community. With a strong knowledge base formed from her own experiences growing up in a South Asian household, Seema Aunty advises young women on a variety of topics, ranging from family, relationships, and culture.

In her own words: “I know it is hard to reconcile the idea of rugged individualism with conservative desi values. Growing up was difficult. It isn’t easy to find a place for oneself in this world when we hear mixed messages about who and how we are supposed to be. I hope that what I have learned from my own life might be of some interest to young women who are now coping with difficult issues.”

If you would like Seema Aunty to answer your burning questions, please feel free to write to her at seemaaunty@browngirlmagazine.com. All submissions will be kept confidential.

Washington, DC—We hurdled over tattered sweatshirts, jogging pants, hats, and gloves, remnants of discarded layers from overheated runners, strewn across the course beyond the start line. We darted past the stench of urine of men relieving themselves in bushes along the road, while women waited in what seemed like mile-long porta-potty lines. The participants came in all shapes, sizes, ages, backgrounds, and levels of experience. There were over 20,000 people nationwide taking part in the race.

For my mom and I, it all began with a grueling 8-week training program. We were novices preparing for our first marathon–the 36th Annual Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC on Sunday, October 30, 2011. My mom, Ish Grover, was the motivating force that impelled me through the excruciating and time-consuming Sunday runs around the meandering, peaceful roads of Shady Side, Maryland. I typically hated those torturous runs (because they caused my legs to throb) yet simultaneously loved them because I had a chance to share those days with my mom, though I often trailed at least 500 feet behind her. She was my source of inspiration and encouragement along the way when all I wanted to do was quit during our coconut water breaks.

My mom works harder than anyone I know. She is dedicated and revels in the thrill of running. She has been running for over 20 years and never would have imagined that she would be able to run a marathon. The most she had ever run prior to our training was 10 miles. Running a marathon—26.2 miles—was something that she could only dream of, she told me. However, last Sunday, my mom made her dream a reality, and mine as well. I wanted the meaningful experience of running this race with my mom.

Together, we embarked onto the Marine Corps Marathon course and set off for our first marathon, bundled in our polar fleeces to protect us from the chilly October elements, slathered in tiger balm to alleviate the pain, and wrapped in ankle and knee supports to prevent further injury. It was particularly special that I had the opportunity to share such an important goal and accomplishment with my mother because she has always been a source of strength and support to me. The race exemplified the commitment and drive that we each shared. My mom guided me though our multiple long runs leading up to the 26.2-mile race and even more so on the day itself.

We did it. We finished. We tackled our first marathon together as a mother/daughter team. I admire my mom for doing this for herself because she is so selfless. She has a tendency to “do” for others rather than “do” for herself. I am proud of every step she took. She managed to power through the cramps, the aching knees, and sore ankles. She was a true competitor. The journey was painful but it was ours, my moms and mine, together. And that is a bond we share—something that no one can take away—and we have big, heavy medallions to prove it!

“Mom, Dad, you don’t get it!”

I’m sure we’ve all heard this phrase leave our mouths or even had to bite our tongues when wanting to say it numerous times.  Growing up in a South Asian household while going to school in a Western environment inevitably leads to misunderstandings and assumptions from both sides of the family.  Finding a balance and assimilating to both cultures serves as a difficult obstacle for many.  For some it appears easy but quarrels over misunderstandings are always present.

Some of these misunderstanding are extremely serious and play a major role in our futures and some of these misunderstandings are just plain annoying and frustrating leading you to want to pull all of your hair out and constantly utter to yourself, “Why me?” Today, you may catch yourself blaming any signs of awkwardness that surface in your present self on these grueling scenarios family members have made you endure during your childhood.

Molly Ringwald's Samantha is embarrassed by her family in Sixteen Candles

South Asian parents begin early when it comes to tactfully placing you in environments where you feel the ultimate experience of discomfort.  There is a reason why as we get older and older, fewer of us still attend South Asian lunches and dinners at banquet halls or restaurants.

Why is this?  Have you ever been out with your family to an invitation at a restaurant and as soon as your folks spot another fairly young looking individual, they immediately announce (very loudly so the other children can hear as well) that they have found a friend for you and that you should sit at a table with your new ‘friend’ and talk and ‘have fun’?  They do not even give you the chance to retaliate because now it would just be plain rude to say you don’t want to since the entire restaurant has heard what you WILL be doing for the next five hours of your life.  Sure it’s easy for your parents to do this, they already have their friends to chat with which you a little angrily observe while sitting in awkward silence with a bunch of strangers that you have only maybe seen once before in your life.  Because of this, it is not uncommon to see South Asians from our generation immediately dodging anyone and anything that our parents can group us with even today.

Somehow we doubt having a heart to heart talk with our parents would change their behavior

It does not stop there however.  South Asian parents can even make you feel awkward when you are alone with them in the comfort of your own home.  Growing up in a South Asian household, long distance phone calls characterized by the iconic speaking in voices that are ten decibels louder than normal phone voices is more than common.  Parents may wonder why miraculously, every time one of these phone calls take place, all their children bolt to use the bathroom or magically have a whole bunch of homework to do that requires undivided attention.  Sure they are your family from the homeland but the distance plays a huge role and for some reason, parents find it difficult to get that being forced to have a conversation with someone who you don’t really know is actually quite difficult.

Situations like these happen every day in the lives of South Asian youth growing up.  We even know when we are about to find ourselves in situations like these.  Why do we still endure the trauma?  Because it makes our parents happy.  They find pleasure and comfort in knowing that they are able to keep their children in touch with what they know and associate with others who are engrossed in our culture.  And we, just like in numerous other cases, follow along, and endure the awkwardness in order to satisfy our elders.

‘Suitable Boy’ Checklist: Educated? Check. Good family? Check. Wealthy? Tall?  Fair?  Hot AKA Jay Sean? (Ahh, wishful thinking). Appropriate caste? Che…wait..WHAT?

I’m at a loss for words 99.9 % of the time when I sit down and think of exactly what is important to parents when it comes time to send their bonny lasses out to get wedded. I’m reminded of the absurd demands of Jane and Michael Banks from ‘Mary Poppins’ when they were asking their father for a new nanny:

“You must be kind, you must be witty

Very Sweet and fairly pretty.

Take us on outings, give us treats

Sing songs, bring sweets.”

I understand the importance of wanting the best for your child, but I truly cannot comprehend or even begin to WANT to comprehend some of the items on their checklists. A good education is something both parents and girls look for in prospective partners. That is nothing new, nor is it something wholly rare as most people strive for a good education and pride themselves on having a solid background. Although, I have met people that have an advanced formal education, but are lazy and unmotivated. I have also met people without an advanced formal education that are incredibly successful and content.  In both scenarios, the wrong thing is being scrutinized. An education, or the lack of, isn’t the answer; ambition, motivation and determination is.  Just because one has the tools necessary does not mean they know how to wield those tools and build a future out of them.

A good family is also important, but it is not necessarily the only thing that creates a good person; many people have overcome familial hardships and have conquered their lives and the world. Just look at Oprah! She came from ‘the hood’ and now she is arguably one of the most influential and powerful women in the entire world.  There are also many people that have had the world given to them on a golden platter (because silver is for sissies) and choose to indulge in sloth, greed, and lust rather than take on any responsibilities. We are not by-products of our surroundings; we have choices, and it’s those choices that make us who we are.

Wealth. Ah, booty…how seductive thee are. I think sometimes parents forget that their daughters have to live FOREVER with someone. Just because the suitable boy in question may have wealth at that moment in time, does not under any circumstances, mean it will be there forever. Money comes and goes, and basing a life decision of that magnitude on something so transient is silly, naive, and wholly unoriginal. “I ain’t sayin’ she a golddigger, but ain’t messin’ with no broke [people]…” Who wants to be THAT girl? I recognize everyone wants to live comfortably and indulge in luxuries, but is it so important that it becomes a deciding factor in someone’s worth?

Physical attributes are also subjective, unless we’re going to discuss Jay Sean… in which case it is a rule of life that he was, is, and always will be supercalifragilisitcacebealidocious hot. Physical beauty is fleeting and it is one’s personality that is forever. A person is not good or bad because they’re tall, fair, or hot (Jay Sean is the exception to every rule ever). People are good or bad based on their actions. It breaks my heart when I see wonderful people putting up with things they would normally abhor simply because their partner is good looking. Being attractive does not give someone a free pass to treat people badly. Looking past one’s physical appearances and truly seeing someone for who they are is a beautiful quality to have and one that should be cherished.  I identify with wanting a partner that is easy on the eyes, but let me reiterate something: is it so important that it becomes a deciding factor in someone’s worth?

I am truly befuddled every time I hear parents casually conversing about castes and ‘appropriate’ places and families their daughters can get married into.  My biggest gripe with this is the fact that the ideology is dated. Albeit, I realize the importance of making sure your darling child is married into a family that will love and treat her the way you have for  ‘X’ amount of years, but what does caste have to do with that?  If we were living in India and were subject to the societal rules and regulations of the castes in question, I would not be voicing my concerns here. HOW is it possible to deem someone acceptable or not based on the geographical location of their gaam or where they stand on the caste system? We live in a time where people are judged based on their actions rather than their family ancestory; our society thrives on the respect gained from actions. How can we then go backwards and cling to dated forms of worth when it comes to finding a suitable boy?

The conflict here lies in the generation gap; a lot of our parents are the first generation out of South Asia and have had struggled most of their adult lives to blend into American culture, while defiantly keeping their South Asian identity alive. We, on the other hand, have assimilated beautifully into American culture and have struggled to find our South Asian balance. The result? A shift in important values in a life partner; most of our parents were arranged by their parents whom they assumed knew best. This meant that the above items were not only acceptable, they were necessary because they fit in with the time period and societal ways. On the other hand, most of us now have grown up more independent and feel WE know best when it comes to choosing a life partner; this includes finding someone that is ambitious, motivated, determined, confident, funny, loving, trusting, and honest. The difference? The ‘suitable boy’ checklist went from tangible items to characteristics. We see worth in people for their potential and their actions, our parents deem worthiness by verifiable evidence.

If our parents stepped away from the black and white world of their checklists for just one moment, they would notice that there is a whole spectrum of colors waiting across the threshold . If they did, maybe then daughters wouldn’t be terrified of letting their parents down if they dared to fall in love with an ‘unsuitable boy’. We girls could also cut our parents some slack, if we just appreciated the reason for their ideology more, we could see that in between the black and white of the ‘suitable boy’ checklist, there are glimmers of vibrant colors; we just need to hold out our hand and learn to walk beside our parents instead of ahead or behind them.

Photo credit: www.manicksorcar.com/spices.php

Doctor, lawyer, engineer, businesswoman; take your pick.  These are some of the occupations that are commonly brought up in the typical South Asian household.  We have the freedom to choose one or the other, but if we decide to pursue anything that strays from these options too drastically, we may find ourselves caught in the middle of what seems like a losing battle.

I have experienced this firsthand while attending Stony Brook University, a school that is known for both its overwhelming South Asian population as well as the number of people who initially declare themselves to be pre-med.  Every semester I see individuals who rip their hair out trying to figure out a way to break the news to their parents that they cannot be pre-med anymore and every year there are some who accept they have no other choice but to fight through it because their parents will accept nothing less.

When I was younger, I decided I wanted to be a doctor.  Throughout my education, I pursued this desire and was fine until I reached college and had to battle through the deadly mechanisms and syntheses of organic chemistry.  This was the only time where I doubted my initial desire to become a doctor and tried to come up with other possible career options.

I am very open with my parents so I assumed they would understand my concerns; however when I approached them and suggested I try nursing or physical therapy instead, their reaction threw me off.  They would not hear me out and consistently reiterated the fact that becoming a doctor was MY choice and it was what I wanted to do and should do.  Nothing else would suffice because I had already declared that I wanted to do medicine and there was no turning back.  My father even threw out the good old “your family in India will be very disappointed if you don’t become a doctor” and my mother the “we will give you everything you want as long as you give us this one thing.”  After this conversation, sound sleep was something that I rarely got.

Since the talk about a possible career change with my parents, I reevaluated what I was really interested in.  I want to be able to interact with children ideally in the medical field, whether that be as a doctor, a healthcare professional, or even as a dance or music therapist.  I tried to tackle my parents one at a time since handling them both at the same time seemed to be a failure before.

I had a heartfelt talk with my mother about how strongly I feel about wanting to help children in whatever way I can.  I broke down the situation realistically and made it clear that becoming a doctor will not be easy and it may not even happen but that my education and major thus far will not let me down.  I explained to her that even if I do not become a doctor in life, I will not be a failure and most importantly I will not disappoint her because at the end of the day, my own happiness is important and it would be unfair for my mom to be dissatisfied with that.  It’s a small step but I have successfully been able to convince my mother. I have left my father for another day.

Dr. Gyanam Mahajan is the language Program Coordinator for SSEALC and she teaches Hindi-Urdu and South Asian Language and Culture classes at UCLA.  She holds a Ph.D. in Linguistics and has been teaching at UCLA since 1992. As an Indian mother of a daughter who currently attends a Top Ten university (“without ever being punished,” she adds), as well as an active participant in debate with Indian parents, Mahajan has an intimate view into the uniquely “Indian” parenting style.  I interview her about  reaction to Amy Chua’s article “Why Chinese Mothers are Superior,” printed in the Wall Street Journal earlier this month and this is what she had to say.

Gyanam Mahajan (GM): I was looking up the World Wildlife Fund and it was saying that India is the last great refuge for tigers.  So, my first reaction, because they’re referring to this article as “Tiger Mothers,” is this a misappropriation of the term!  If anyone’s a tiger-mom it’s me! (laughs)  How can you take away the term from us?  It’s not fair.  What are we? Monkey Moms or Rhino Moms, if we’re not Tiger Moms? So, I actually settled on Rhino-Mom.

Nadya Agrawal (NA): That’s perfect, I’ll refer to Indian moms as “Rhino Mothers” from now on.

GM: And then the worst thing was, she said like in the second line or something that this [article] applies not only to Chinese mothers, but to Korean and Indian mothers as well.  So, there are a couple of responses.  Number one, don’t talk about me! You know, leave it to me to talk about me.  But the other thing is, contrary to the title of the article, this is not about Chinese mothers.  Parts of it, every group of parents identifies with.  Like Tom Brokaw saying, “Oh, I didn’t realize I had a Chinese mother.”  This is about some specific mothers.

NA: Some specific style of parenting, right?

GM: Exactly.  So it’s going contrary to the thesis, which is that there is a specific style of parenting called—you know, you can call it the “Chinese” parenting or whatever, and that style is superior to other styles.  But right there there’s a contradiction because it’s an acknowledgement that there is no such thing and that it depends on a specific group of people or type of people—and, if one takes that argument further, because she starts giving personal examples, it might be specific to her then.  Then there goes the whole [article] because now it’s not a scientific article, according to me.

NA: When reading this article, were there particular parts that you found were unrealistic?

GM: Given that she is a professor at Yale, I find it very difficult to believe that she doesn’t have empathy for her larger set of kids.  Just gleaning it from how she treated or own daughters, especially that part where she calls her daughter “garbage,” I mean, I can’t even imagine doing that not only with my own daughter, but I can’t even imagine doing that with any of my students.  If you’re teaching at such a big institution, aren’t you familiar with being empathetic with a whole lot of kids?  You know, I wonder how her daughters are reacting to it.

NA: That’s one of the major responses to the article, like, people think her daughters will be scarred for life or they’ll grow up in some sort of affected way.

GM: She thinks not.

NA: What do you think about it?

GM: I think the daughters are in on it.  I mean, come on, they must be—this is a concerted effort to have a best seller.  It’s based on a book that’s supposed to come out, right?  Do you know her husband also has written a book? And it’s very successful.

NA: So, you think this article is mainly a publicity stunt?

GM: Yes.  It’s too extreme and it’s not very realistic. When I first read it, I thought it was a joke article, and it turns out it’s funny only in the sense that she’s laughing her way to the bank. (laughter) So, her book has become a best seller.  So once I realized that she was probably not kidding, I actually got scared because it says “Indian parents”. So I always have this horrible impression that Indian parents are reading it and going ‘Oh my goodness, this is what I’m supposed to be doing? And I’ve not been doing half of these things!’  This would justify their past egregious actions and even take them further.

NA: What egregious actions?

GM: I think that while Indian parents might only do some of the things listed there, she’s probably right about Indian parents not allowing sleepovers.  A lot of Indian parents do not allow sleepovers.  However, while Indian parents may not take it to the extreme that she has given, there is another layer to Indian parents, which may not be there with certain other groups, which is this gender difference.  Reading the article, I’m saying this, she is consistent over genders.  Or maybe she just has two daughters, I don’t know.  But she doesn’t mention this about Chinese mothers; For Indians, the son may be allowed sleepovers, but the daughter isn’t.  Boys are allowed to do certain things, which girls are not, even with something like dating.  Indian parents are very clear with girls about whom they hang out with or where they hang out.  This goes to ridiculous extents too, like no boys allowed in their study groups.  On this issue, Indian parents are actually worse than maybe other groups of parents.

NA: Hasn’t there been some change in that, though?  Like within a lot of modern Indian-American families, both parents work so they probably don’t have time to be so overbearing.

GM: Generally, girls whose mothers work have it slightly easier because their mothers have seen far more and have had more interactions.  They’re slightly more open-minded than mothers who stay at home.  There are mothers who don’t know what other girls the same age are wearing or doing.

NA: What do you think about her stance on punishment?  How do Indian parents punish their kids, generally?

GM: Just a few months ago, my daughter was sitting in her college computer science class and they were talking about punishment for middle school and high school kids.  My daughter told them that she’d never been punished in her life and they were all shocked.  I even had the computer science professor calling me and telling me this.  And I mean, how do you punish a high school kid?  He told me, “Yeah, she said she wasn’t even ever sent to her room.”  And I was like, “Why would I send her to her room?  She’d only be too happy to go!  The real punishment would be to say ‘Sit down and eat with us.  Sit here and talk to us.’”  On the other hand, I do know, in our community, hitting is considered nothing.  But, as kids grow older, parents do tend to back off a bit.  It’s very unusual for high school kids to be hit in their homes, but we’re not talking about abuse cases.  There’s a lot of parental control and there’s a lot of yelling.  We love to yell.  I mean, I’ve yelled a lot.

NA: What would you say is a particular trait of Indian parenting, separate from this “Chinese Mother” way?

GM: She doesn’t really talk about this, but as an Indian parent, I feel like for us it’s not just about our kids but we’re almost always more concerned about other Indian kids.  For example, many of my students tell me this, but even if you go to the temple or the Islamic community center or something, the ‘Aunty Effect’ kicks in.  I wrote an article about this a little while ago.  The kids are not so scared of their own parents, but they’re outright scared of aunties and what the aunties will ask them or what they’ll do.  It takes a village to raise a child.  It’s extended parenting.  You’re answerable to so many.  Many people are keeping tabs on you, give you, unsolicited or solicited advice, and they’re harsher on you than your parents are.

NA: What part do you think Indian-American kids play in the parenting process?  I mean, in this article they seem to alternate between being forced to do things they don’t want and ultimately obeying.

GM: The kids give up a lot.  I know kids who got into universities where they wanted to go, but they weren’t allowed to.  Even at the graduate level.  I’m writing letters of recommendation right now, and I have kids who aren’t allowed to apply to the East Coast.  There’s so much evaluation going on, on the parent by other parents.  Half the things Indian parents do by way of parenting is because of pressure from other parents.  It’s not so much that they believe in it, it’s more like peer pressure.

NA: What do you think the lasting effects are on the kids?  Or what are the lasting effects on the culture?

GM: It reinforces this notion of success.  The Indian-American community, according to me, is growing.  With the rise of people like Kal Penn, people do come to accept that there are other things one can do in life to be successful.

NA: Besides being an engineer, lawyer, or doctor?

GM: Exactly.  Or that it is respectable because now he’s in the White House.  Even now, you’re seeing so many more Indians on TV, like in Parks and Recreation or The Office where they’re not being typecast as speaking with an Indian accent.  You see seven or eight prominent Indians within entertainment—like Russell Peters who’s one of the highest paid comedians.  He’s not just popular among the South Asian community, either.

NA: So, if people like this are becoming big, then the Indian-American parenting style must be changing, right?

GM: Yes, but if an article like this, though, is taken seriously by the Indian-American community, it’ll push us back to the stereotypical things of being a doctor, lawyer, or engineer.  People are becoming more open-minded.  A lot of these things wouldn’t have happened if people weren’t changing or kids weren’t changing.  Parents are changing.  The next generation is changing; it’s indeed different from the last.

NA: Well, that goes into my next question.  Do you think that this controlling parenting style will last?  Or do you think it’ll die out with the next generation with us?

GM: It’s a reality with any group.  All Americans, not just hyphenated ones, are changing.  We’re also mixing a lot.  More languages are being taught right now that at any other point in U.S. history.  The next generation is likely to be more American, because it’s more mixed, in a nicer, different way.  It’s going to evolve.  Maybe they might adopt parts of this article or different parenting styles, and maybe it’s for the better.

“If I had my child to raise all over again, I’d build self-esteem first, and the house later. I’d finger-paint more, and point the finger less. I would do less correcting and more connecting. I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes. I’d take more hikes and fly more kites. I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play. I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars. I’d do more hugging and less tugging.”

~Diane Loomans, from “If I Had My Child To Raise Over Again”

The secret of parenting is being a parent, who masters the balance with them selves and with their child. If parents can properly plant the first seed and nourish it with enough support and love, it will not be easy for the plant to be uprooted.

Parenting doesn’t have to be about putting your ‘child in place’ or punishing their every mistake. And it surely doesn’t mean you force your 7-year-old daughter Lulu to practice for hours on end — right through dinner with no breaks for water or even the bathroom, until at last Lulu learns to play the piece perfectly.

Lulu is the daughter of Amy Chua, Yale Law School Professor, and also the author of “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” which outlines her strict parenting methods, inherited by her own Chinese immigrant parents. Chua became the inscribed ‘tiger mom,’ and also a very contentious debate among American parent households. Chua has opened up their eyes to reality, and that they were much too lenient with their children.

And I agree, some American families do give their child a pat on the back just for being born, which only leads to narcissism and arrogance. But Chua’s extreme methods of screaming, calling her children abusive names, and completely sabotaging their self-esteem, doesn’t seem to be the perfect method to adopt either.

Mostly all immigrant parents, whether they are from China, India or other nations known for their strict parenting values, all expect more from their offspring then is sometimes plausible. There’s no exceptions to receiving A’s in school and there most likely is no exception to picking a career other then the one set out for you on the day of your birth. Studies come first, which means, no play-dates, no sleepovers, and a strict curfew, or sometimes no curfew because there is no such thing as being out of the house past 8pm.

But, honestly, who does your child become? In many cases, a child succumbed to a sheltered personality, who hasn’t been allowed to step outside of the box to experience his own adolescence or search for his ambitions.

I can honestly say, after being a daughter for the past 21 years, it hasn’t been very easy, but it’s become easier with parents who have been active, positive role models, who have instilled me with the values I need to become an independent woman. That’s all not to say they haven’t been strict or aren’t the typical Indian mentality we are familiar with. Their occasional harsh words gave me the push I needed to become a hard worker, but those words never overpowered the love and affection they showered my sister and I with.

My parents have encouraged me to follow a career path, which leads to a stable financial life, but gave me the freedom to explore my strengths, my destiny, and my will power. Not only have they instilled me with a strong sense of the importance of education, but have taught me to live a balanced life following both the Indian and American values.

I have been given enough freedom throughout the years to enjoy my friendships, explore who I am, and where I see myself to be. They have pampered me with lots of love, hugs, kisses, and presents, but always with the same level of moderation. I have come home with a bad test grade, and failed at in many different aspects, but they never stopped encouraging me to try again, and this time, to try even harder. They pushed me as a young girl to become active in extra-curricular activities, and become experienced in other areas then just studies. My mom never misses the chance to give me health pointers, or how to follow a simpler, more natural life style. And my dad never misses the opportunity to show me a film with strong morals.

This article in no way exemplifies how much my parents have done for me or mean to me, but I do hope I can be an example of an Indian-American daughter, living amongst a balanced life with moderate parents, who want the best for me, and will always stand as the strongest pillars of my life.

My first time being called brown was in ninth grade. I’d just returned to school after a family trip to India over winter break – a week late as usual because how is a week nearly enough time to see two sets of cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents? My Social Science teacher had, in my absence, convinced my entire class that my extended stay in India was due to my betrothal, an arranged marriage to some haply young Indian man on the banks of the same river that birthed the magnificent Indus Valley civilization. The teacher was an unmarried Chinese man with bad skin and an unhealthy obsession with computer games, to which he’d likely transferred his own relationship woes. (40 and unmarried? His Chinese grandmother surely couldn’t cope).

The story of my betrothal was a running joke among my closest girlfriends, but the strangers amongst my classmates didn’t put it past me. I forgot about this anecdote for years to follow. My teacher had however, successfully planted one thing in me: the seed to identify myself as brown, which, considering my light skin, I’d never done before.

I could never identify with being Indian-American because I never had Indian-American friends. My cousins all lived in India and I’d always opted to wax my eyebrows in Korean-American salons, with names like Angel Tips and Happy Nails, rather than subject myself to the unnecessary pains of threading in Indian-American salons named after women, like Sheetal and Priya’s Beauty Salon. I didn’t hang around the Indian restaurants next to Indian DVD shops; my dad would just bring Dosas home after work and I never knew the man who made them. (My curiosity was born later, after I discovered there was a man who made my favorite Idlies and Sambar, and he probably had a story worth knowing).

My Indian-American identity was a smorgasbord of sporadic memories – the time I saw the film Outsourced (with my white best friend), a project on Indian call centers I’d done in High School (for my Irish Sociology teacher), trips to India when I’d bring back belts and bags and skirts of mirror-work (for my Catholic Italian friends). To me, being brown meant being American in America and Indian in India. The cross-culturalness only existed where I created it, noticed it or defined it, not in the way the few Indian-American girls I knew went to Indian dance class, Hindi class, Gurdwara or to their aunty’s homes. My Indian family lived in India, my parents, brother and I, in America.

As a child, I went through a phase of wanting to be American – not understanding why I lived “their” life but didn’t look like them. That eventually became a phase of wanting to be different and finding my individuality in rebellion rather than roots. Now, I attend a university of global citizens, and I’ve never felt prouder of my culture and at the same time, like such a shallow Indian, knowing nothing of the grammar or history, just the shopping, and glory of switching into broken Hindi when I don’t want strangers to understand me. Should real Indians hear me, they would laugh at my childish vocabulary.

What I deeply appreciate, however, is that my parents raised me with profound values – not cultural, persay (or maybe they were) – and always conveyed them as human values, aligned with my Buddhist faith and a deep respect for all humanity. “Indian” customs of making tea for my parents or being a sweet hostess seemed to be a means of developing compassion, rather than cultural obligation.

I don’t know if I’ve missed a step in assimilation or I’ve truly assimilated. What I know is that I have nothing but pride and curiosity toward my country’s history and culture, which as I further my studies and delve into the arena of journalism, I’m excited to further discover through literature and the women I want to meet and write about. I’m proud of my American life because it’s allowed me the freedom to become who I want, and my parents because they’ve allowed me to develop my values based on this appreciation of common humanity rather than cultural duress. The world is more colorful when I discover it through mature eyes – or if not quite mature yet, then eyes that are guided with a passion for writing and a passion for discovering humanity.

So I’m Indian-Indian and American-American, and I hope one day to be Chinese-Chinese and French-French too. I’ve recently learned that wherever I go, I can discover myself a little bit more in the people I meet and to me, being brown –the paint that comes about when one mixes all the primary colors– describes so many women of different ethnicities, each of whom I can find a bit of myself in. I think India is a country that is also comprised of this array of primary hues, a fabric flecked with golden history and mirror-worked anecdotes of epic legend and neighborly gossip. I suppose I have inherited Indian values in disguise, and this has left me all the more in awe of a country I shall continue to explore, likely in an idiosyncratic way. To my Social Science teacher, thank you. I guess I am brown.

When I suggested to my mom that I be allowed to wear a sari to her cousin’s wedding in Pakistan this summer, I was surprised to see such a puzzled expression on her face.

“A sari?” she said with a chuckle. “We’ll go clothes shopping together when you come visit.”

In her usual subtle way, she maneuvered the situation so that any outfit I picked out to wear to the wedding would be prescreened and mom-approved. She changed the subject of our conversation to discussing my little brother’s daily antics, and I was left with a head buzzing with thoughts of why my wearing a sari was so out of the question.

I thought back to my first visit to Pakistan in 2008. I remembered seeing the latest styles of shalwar kameez in all the markets and store windows. The women of Karachi formed a vibrant rainbow of shalwar kameez colors and patterns, and there was even the occasional progressive-minded woman boldly strolling by in a T-shirt and jeans – but where were all the saris? How could a garment so traditional become so minute in such a large part of the subcontinent?

My curiosity sent me poring over the internet for articles about the history of the sari. I was stunned when I learned that when Pakistan was founded as a Muslim nation in 1947, the nation’s first lady Fatima Jinnah publicly denounced the garment as unpatriotic. She implied that saris were the traditional dress of Hindus and therefore inappropriate attire for the Muslim women of Pakistan.

I felt a pang of sadness when I read that some elderly Pakistani women still regularly wear saris because they are used to wearing them from pre-Partition days. I thought of my grandma who passed away a few years ago, and how my entire life, I never saw her wear anything but saris. She just wasn’t comfortable in anything else. Her saris were a part of her identity. They were part of all the traditions, customs, and ancient ways of life she carried with her. From India to Pakistan to America, she wore them so instinctively and gracefully. She knew just how to tuck them out of the way when doing housework. She could modestly drape the end piece over her head when reciting a prayer. Her elegance is what defined the beauty of the sari for me, and that elegance is what I wanted to celebrate by wearing one for the first time this summer.

Maybe it is just my naivety as an American-born South Asian girl about all of the social and political etiquettes that silently govern our part of the world, but I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t be acceptable for me to wear a sari to the wedding. I understand that because my mom grew up in Pakistan, she has a much clearer understanding of what the accepted norms are there. That’s what she is trying to help me grapple with when she forbids me from doing or wearing something unconventional. I know she doesn’t want anyone to perceive me as backwards or odd. But if I have it my way, I’m going to stick to my belief that what is popularly accepted is not always right, and I hope that on my visit to Karachi this summer, I get my first chance to wear one of these beautiful ancient dresses that have been hidden away in the folds of Pakistan’s past.