This essay was written in June 2016 and is reflective of my thoughts & experiences then.
For most of my life I have constantly dealt with a major cultural identity crisis. From the time I was uprooted at the age of four until now, I have always been a part of a country, culture or community that isn’t akin to mine. But then again, what is my culture? Do I consider myself to be a part of one? For a long time, I sought out these answers, but after much soul-searching I have finally realized that I do not have to “belong.” I can just be.
Having lived in three countries and a handful of cities, adjusting can be tough. Moving away when I was younger was a much easier process than when I moved to New York, just after turning 18-years-old for college. It was one of the hardest transitions I have had to endure.Growing up partially between India and South East Asia, I had a lot of ethnic traditions thrown at me, but I took to them with ease. The feeling of “home” became a more accurate description of where I eventually spent the most time in a year and that was okay. Coming to New York, there were a lot of different cultures thrown at me. I did not quite understand what the norms were. You see, most of my understanding of America came from overindulging in Western media. I was more than surprised that everything on a screen was a mere depiction rather than what it actually is.
New York is this boiling pot of cultures and ethnicities where you can literally find people from every corner of the world in one city. However, one of the hardest parts of fitting in was definitely language. Even though English is my first language, I found people expecting me to slip up or run for the opportunity to correct me when I pronounced something differently than they were accustomed to. One of my very first acquaintances here was more than shocked when I spoke fluent english. She immediately asked me “How do you know English? People in India don’t speak English!” Little did she realize— just the way that I had a misunderstanding of what America was— she did too. For as long as I have been here, I have been slowly changing the way that people view what India is.
While I was on the pursuit for a sense of belongingness, I decided to get lost in the little ethnic backgrounds of the city. Most of my eye-opening experiences I have had here happened when I moved to Alphabet City. Half the people in New York think it’s an imaginary place, but let me tell you, it’s one of the most diverse neighborhoods that anyone can have the wonderful opportunity to live in. With such rich history, I gladly dove head first into it. Avenue C, formerly known as Loisaida Avenue, has a very thick background of Hispanic culture and community residing in it. From getting my breakfast empanadas to trying to the Tres Leches cake from the Dominican bakery near by or going for to the Neurican Cafe for spoken word nights, I learned a whole bunch about an absolutely new culture without even trying that hard.
New York gave me that- a type of euphoria from exploring something absolutely alien, and soon having it feel like home. Most of my closest friends here are from all different cultures and I take keen interest in learning about them. I gained the understanding that it doesn’t have to be about me, but the whole world. I learned to respect and appreciate what is not mine and what is not my version of normal. I didn’t need to constantly feel left out because I couldn’t relate. Instead, I chose the pathway to do exactly that. This is when my love story for not only traveling but dwelling in others’ cultures happened!
Ultimately, I would say, I found a home in New York because I didn’t need to come from somewhere to be here, but I just had to be a culture chameleon to be a part of something. In the words of Kimmy Schmidt, “If you want to be in this city, you just have to belong”.
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