My husband and I converse in English. Our choice of language represents our cultural fissure from our Indian heritage and its customs. I was born in Dallas, Texas, but as a young girl, my father insisted we learn our native language, Gujarati. For most of my childhood I learned English and the Indian language simultaneously. My husband, on the other hand, was born in India and moved to the United States when he was three years old, but because his parents wanted him to assimilate as an American, they insisted he speak only in English.
The fissure is more imminent and the depth of it startles me. The crack appeared almost instantly, my focus centered on it because my husband’s grandmother is visiting and staying with us for a few weeks. She speaks Gujarati exclusively, but my daughter only speaks English. My attempts at trying to teach her to speak Gujarati are futile; she laughs, and says the language sounds funny. It bothers me that she can’t have meaningful exchanges with her great-grandmother laced with the richness of a common language.
But it isn’t her fault, I let the crack gain footing. It’s been fifteen years since I’ve visited India; most of my extended family only know my husband and daughter by names only, the faces and personalities are wholly absent. There are other examples, this symbolic divorce, appearing in more obvious settings. The more intricate Indian cooking, I am at a loss, my mother my sole guide in navigating the viscosity of those oils. My husband often says, especially when he loves a particular dish that either his or my mom has cooked, that details of this Indian cooking will be lost with our generation. The only casualty isn’t cooking.There are other rituals, almost a special morse code, that occurs during marriages, births and funerals. I’ve witnessed these intricacies many times, but observing them is quite different then executing nuances I don’t really understand.
It’s the see-saw between assimilation and abandonment. There is a sense of being an in-between, where you are considered a non-resident Indian when you visit the place of your heritage, while in the country of your birthplace, you are an American with an asterick. There isn’t a place of absolute comfort, a tug of war between two opposite points. Sometimes I treasure this discomfort because only in America do you have the privilege of embracing two different cultures without fear of execution.
For me, there isn’t an easy resolution to this in-between feeling, but as my husband’s grandmother stay comes to a close, I’ve noticed a minute, but important transformation in my daughter. She isn’t making fun of the Indian language; she is actually repeating the words back to her great-grandma. I believe this change in my daughter is a sign of two lessons: I should continue to foster my daughter’s connection to her own heritage, while rediscovering what I’ve somehow lost.
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Do you have a tug of war between heritage and birth place? How do you reconcile it? Are you an in-between? Are you uncomfortable with this feeling or do you embrace it? How much culture do you believe is important for yourself or your children?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
This is a familiar topic for me though I wouldn’t say there’s a tug of war. Due to our location (a town where diversity is the norm and being a polyglot is not out of the ordinary), my son is fortunate to learn several languages in addition to English. I plan to have him visit countries from which he has a drop of blood, but this will take some time (and a lot of money, yikes). He is growing up with many kids like him, multi-culti and multi-lingual. I really think this can only be a good thing.
Culturally, I’m half French, though you wouldn’t know it. For whatever reason my parents didn’t see relatives and didn’t emphasise my French heritage at all. By the time my husband and I started a family, I asked my husband to please speak to our girls in French (he’s a dual French/English national and only spoke French up to the age of 5), I suppose in a way to not lose that cultural strand that I think is important. Well, he didn’t and now, as adults, their French is no better than mine, i.e. pretty rudimentary secondary school level. It saddens me that they’re removed from 3/4 of their heritage. Culturally the French and English are so very similar so it doesn’t compare to losing the traditions of another culture as you talk about and my girls have always been able to chat to grandmere and grandpere because they were good enough to speak to the girls in English. Gosh, if language was also a stumbling block within the family… well that’s got to be tough. As you say, you’re in a kind of limbo.
This is a lovely post. I don’t see that bringing your daughter up as you have done up to now whereby she has learnt only English is a problem, yes, supposedly it is easier to teach two languages from the start but doing so slows down development of both. I think it is far nicer that your daughter, now old enough to appreciate her heritage, is showing an interest and wants now to learn the language. I think it is very important to assimilate into the culture in which you choose to live, however keeping alive your own heritage is something very special to do too. Passing down her history, language, those cooking skills and more to your daughter will be such a special thing to do.
And no, it doesn’t slow development to speak more than one language at home from the time you’re little. I’ve known many who do – it’s a non-event. It becomes “normal.”
🙂
Ru,
I totally get what you’re saying. As an African-American who was never around my African (Nigerian) family, it saddens me now to know that neither I, nor eventually my kids, will truly understand the richness of the culture. There are little things that I do now to connect with that part of me, but it just isn’t the same.
On another note, my nieces are being raised in Montreal and are immersed in French-Canadian culture at school, but a completely American culture at home. Seeing their interactions with family vs. Canadians is absolutely fascinating. It’s an adopted culture for them, but I’m so grateful they’re having that experience. They know how to value who they are as Americans, while also learning another language and culture. It’s truly priceless.
Luv ya!!!
Yes, yes, yes! My husband’s parents speak both English and Thelagu (sp?), but my husband and his sister speak only English. When my in-laws call back home, they always speak the native tongue.
When my SIL got married last year, they held all of these little Indian ceremonies and rituals, and my MIL had to explain to her what they meant and what was going on during all of them. And this is a family who is VERY proud of Indian heritage.
As for cooking, my MIL isn’t super-accomplished (she always had servants/cooks) but the few specialties she makes, like dosa, totally intimidate me. I’ve learned how to make a lot of Indian dishes, but I surrender the dosa to her. Which of course she loves–who wouldn’t love being the only one who can properly make one of my husband’s favorites? 😉
I totally understand surrendering the dosa. It is pretty involved and we reserve dosa night when my mom is in town. Although, KW, I have a hard time imagining you could be intimidated by any recipe!
This resonates with me. As a child I was raised speaking three languages and sometimes when I express myself I feel like in my mind I am translating one to the other. It has advantages as well. I love the way you said it. ” It’s the see saw between assimilation and abandonment.”Well said !
I’m definitly the kind of person who would assimulate in the country that I am moving to whether as a missionary or as a resident. I believe it honors that country. However, I like what Julie Garwood said in one of her novels.
Two clans in hard times came together under one leader. The laird would treat each clan according to their traditions and according to their plaid. It wasn’t uniting them, but it continued to divide them. One major component brought both clans together.
One clan member said, “Which plaid should we wear to symbolise our new clan?”
The Laird said, “You will wear my father’s plaid, but do not destroy your old plaid. Put it away to share your stories and traditions with your children so that the stories of your grandfathers will not be forgotten. We’ll be united as one clan under my plaid.”
I am constantly struggling to find the balance between my heritage and the culture in which I live. I grew up speaking only Vietnamese until I went to school, but now my Vietnamese is so bad it’s embarrassing! I want my kids to speak Vietnamese but it’s hard since Dan doesn’t speak the language. It’s so much easier just to revert to English. And as far as Vietnamese cooking … forget about it!! I’ve had your Indian cooking, and I remember it being delicious, so don’t sell yourself short 🙂
I’m going to step out of character (yes, I do have a “real” one, somewhere behind all the layers). I’m going to make a recommendation, and you really didn’t ask for opinions!
Teach your daughter Gujarati. You said your attempts are futile and she laughs. Do it anyway. In small doses. In constant and creative ways. With or without your husband’s assistance.
I speak two languages. I used to speak more. I dabble in others. My ex speaks four languages. He is European. When we first met we spoke a combination of French and English together (French is not his native tongue), and I tried to learn his native language and its particular dialect. My father-in-law, in fact, was very helpful in that.
My ex did not want to speak more than one language to our boys. I insisted; I spoke to them in French and English, and tried to encourage him to speak in his native language but he wouldn’t. He said it was pointless. I knew enough to speak at a 2-year old level, and at least planted the sounds and some basic phrases. I continued to speak some French to them throughout their childhood.
My boys are teens. One is fluent in French, studying German, and has been trying to teach himself his father’s dialect so when he spends summers with cousins and grandparents he can communicate. He is very resentful that the language was “lost” during his upbringing. It is a spoken language (the dialect), and the written version isn’t taught where he is at college.
This is about opening doors. Not only to your child’s heritage, but to her future. Her ability to learn more than one language easily, her ability to discover her heritage more fully when she is older. And a potential source of pride. Americans are woeful when it comes to other languages. Just say NO to her no, while she is young enough to learn easily and playfully. I only wish I had been even more insistent with the French, with both my boys. AND, had known enough of their father’s language to do a better job.
This is such an insightful post. I encounter this gap between my parents and my kiddos almost every week. I also have to admit that I am partly to blame for creating the distance.
One resource that is available to us is Gujarati classes at a nearby temple. That is something that we plan to do together as a family. Although I can understand Gujarati, I cannot write or read it myself. So my family will be learning together.
Maybe there is something in your neck of the woods??
Followed your comment at TKW to find this lovely blog. I really resonate to all the cross-currents in this post and the comments—from the Yiddish that died with my bubby, to the many cultures I have been blessed to work with in my clinical practice.
I don’t have so much an opinion on any of this as an appreciation for the questions. Still, it made me think of a client I had whose cat found a small Ganesha out in the garden. I had to Google to learn (I had though it might have been Lakshmi) but as remover of obstacles and helper of new beginnings I knew Ganesha needed a place in my office, where it sits quietly helping in the language of silent listening.
Namaste, Bruce
Beautiful, Rudri.
While I won’t argue it’s the same, my husband and I are both French-Canadian. We don’t speak French as a rule at home, mostly English, but we are eager for our boys to be fluent in both languages. Now in his first year of school, I can see what we’ve missed by waiting, but not exposing him to it more. Is it too late? I ask myself often. I hope not. And then I remind myself that our children experiences will be uniquely their’s and while it’s our job to keep culture, language going, it’s also our job to prepare them for their life. It’s hard a line to walk, but I would imagine you are doing the best you can!
This is an interesting topic beautifully expressed. I always envied those with strong roots like yours and felt betrayed that I didn’t have that connection or sense of belonging to a cultural community. I never considered that many would be at a loss or not feeling a sense of belonging due to being torn between two cultures. Thank you for letting me have a glimpse of the other side.
My culture is American so I don’t feel this tug-of-war, but I can relate on a different level: Religion. My religion is, in many ways, my culture. As I figure out how to incorporate my religion, my culture, into my family’s life I feel somewhat lost. Especially since I am more progressive than my parents in my beliefs. Still, as I do my best I feel my kids getting it. Better even than me. Funny how that works, huh?
I don’t have the tug-of-war but I imagine it’s difficult.
Very thought-provoking post. I can’t say I relate, but the way you describe this tug of war makes me anxious on your behalf for what you’re losing…and simultaneously heartens me because of what you’re gaining. More tug of war, I guess! I think you’re right to keep the cultural door open for your daughter; she may not be interested in learning the language now, but kids wise up as they get older. 😉 And when that happens, what a rich heritage you have to offer her. I wish I was as in touch with my roots as you are.
Have you seen Spanglish? This post makes me think of it.
My MIL is from Korea and my FIL is German and yet no one spoke anything but English in my husband’s home. I think it was because they were a military family and his mother was probably eager to assimilate, and she had no family nearby to converse with. My husband’s cousins all speak fluent Korean but they also have two Korean parents.
She cooks stuff like bulgolgi and makes kimchi and now you’re making me think I should learn how to do this for my husband and kids for when she is gone..
How do you teach your children a language that you seem to be forgetting yourself at times? How upset my grandmother, who was a stickler for languages and its purity, would be if she heard the smattering of English my husband and I throw in the handful of times we actually try to speak to each other in our native language. But with one set of our son’s grandparents in a different continent and another in a different state, it is really hard to make sure he learns our language properly. All we can do is try our best…