Dreamland

Today was pretty chill. We arranged for a car, and we had a few errands. First, we had to check out this place my mom was interested in renting a little longer term. Initially, it seemed like a good idea, based on the Airbnb listing. And honestly, it was decent enough. But it isn't where she wants to stay. It reminds me of those movies when someone is let out of jail and they go back to the real world and realize they no longer fit anywhere.

Today, while we were drinking tea in a really loud hip cafe among teenage Indians smoking hookahs, I told her that she is, in fact, a foreigner in India. This is no longer her country. She agreed to some extent, but she also said she was happy that things are easier in India now. Simple activities like paying for things with a credit card, or getting a decent hotel with hot water. She's right. Even in my lifetime, that's changed. At the same time, she feels foreign and annoyed. And maybe displaced from her own identity? She didn't say that. That's me interpreting. Although, this is exactly why I dumped the vacation days to come here.

And here's our delicious, steaming tea.

There is a term, "ABCD", that is frequently used for kids who have Indian parents and grow up in America. I am an (aging) ABCD, for example. The acronym is not particularly complimentary. It stands for "American Born Confused Desi" (Desis are Indians). It's always been my point of view that I'm not the confused one. There is very little for me to be confused about in terms of identity. My skin is brown, but the words coming out of my mouth are the midwestern US. I'm a person with cultural influences that color the way I see the world. So what. The influences have resulted in a point of view about social and political issues that generally skews slightly empathetic toward the misunderstood, or those who do not fit exactly into a majority. However, I'm 100% American to me. I've never veered from that answer. I am not a fan of identity politics because it's exhausting. I'm a fan of civil rights.

So, I coined the IBCD a while ago. That's the Indian Born Confused Desi. That's a person who was born in India and is generally confused about who they are and what they want. It changes. They started out leaving India in search of glory and fame. They came to America and realized they had to work really hard. My mother and father's generation was underappreciated, exploited, and never fully accepted in the United States. Their entire lives were a long assimilation process. They were cultural pioneers.  Because of that generation, younger generations showing up in the US do not have to work quite as hard on cultural integration (unless they choose a ridiculous place to live, like, say, South Dakota or Idaho). Everyone knows where India is now. Everyone knows about Indian food. Half of the motels in the US are owned by Indians. That's a real fact. Indian weddings. Bollywood. Yoga. The "ABCD" generation votes and has jobs in the US. Yoga is a part of the US economy. I don't know if anyone cares about cultural pioneers anymore, but they were brave back then. It was like going to Mars, really. Look at what's happened: it's next to impossible to go back home.