Tag: south asian woman
This was something I thought I could have genuinely benefited from –the opportunity to connect and be mentored by someone who may be familiar with my cultural background, pressures, and occasional feelings of disconnectedness trying to belong and seamlessly blend my dual identities at work as both Canadian and Indian.
The way that my mother and father describe their childhoods makes it seem as though they grew up only among Jains, Jain temples, and Jain ideals. So when my parents immigrated to the US, they were determined to realize their visions of the American Dream: be who you want to be, but don’t forget your roots.
Facebook was the space for me to keep in touch with everyone back in India, and this was just not appropriate content for them to see. I didn’t want them to know what I had been through, and then talk to my parents about it, or bring it up between themselves.
Though my journey may seem a little excessive, I cannot emphasize enough how important it is for every young woman to live somewhere new at least once in their lives. I don’t mean move to college for 4 years, or the closest big city with your girlfriends, but somewhere totally new that pushes you out of your comfort zone. It can be incredibly frightening to leave home, and even seem unnecessary, but the experiences I have had are invaluable and critical to my growth.
I once had the privilege of falling in love with the most handsome, smartest, and most importantly, kindest human being in the world. He also happened to be a black man in America, who took on a brave task: dating a Bengali urban-American whose family was so deeply infected with colonialism and hypocrisy.
Dear My Main Man, I write to you because out of every helping hand I have received in this world, yours is the one with the most impact. You receive the least amount of credit and praise for the things you do. You’ve always stood back and let me shine or run in the rain knowing I always get caught up in a storm. You’re always stepping in when I call for you, knowing you can’t be more than a few feet away ready to comfort me in your arms as you have been doing for years. It’s time that light radiates on who you are and the love that you have shown me.
Some Pakistanis - at least in London where I am - pretend that they have Arab heritage. This is a fact that I’ve never really questioned until recent years when I became more curious, confident and knowledgeable of my own lineage. Why do some of us lie about our bloodline?
Imagine not knowing you share the same blood as the low-caste girl your family adopted. The one that is a few years older but always dutifully providing you her company. Your mother admonishes your father for bringing this girl of a lesser societal status home, but for you, she’s practically a sister.
Standing up for what you believe in and proving negativity wrong is incredibly powerful. Not only are we incredibly beautiful and have dangerously gorgeous curves, but we have a tremendous amount of capability to do so much more.
At face value, my dad is a traditional Punjabi, conservative and serious father who just wants the best for his daughter. Yet over the years, all of the guidance he has provided me and all of the choices he has made for me have all screamed feminism. The decisions he made in raising me would make Sheryl Sandberg proud; however, his behavior was never meant to work towards feminism or gender equality -- it was just a great externality.
For single desi women in their 30s and 40s, the comments from others just keep on coming and coming and coming. No matter how many times you hit them, they keep on coming, like tennis balls out of a machine. At some point, you just want to throw your racket away and run.
The same kids that thought my traditional clothing was weird, that my food smelled funny and who assumed my culture was barbaric, are now walking around wearing bindis, matha pattis (headpieces) and saris, raving about how their life has changed after throwing some turmeric in their latte.
In kindergarten, my friend Emma took it upon herself to explain that my darker skin and bushy eyebrows meant that I would never be pretty. I didn’t question Emma’s words at the time because, validated by her shiny blonde hair and pale green eyes, how could she have been wrong?
by Anonymous - Follow @browngirlmag Last month, there was controversy regarding the photo-editing app, FaceApp due to a feature called “hot filter” which seemed to lighten skin tones in photos. While many...
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