KRITHIKA MOHAN
ABCD. (A)ustralian (B)orn (C)onfused (D)esi. A term that embodies the limbo land that a lot of South Asian youth find themselves in as children of migrants - associating more with the Western society they live in due to birth or upbringing, but also acknowledging that their appearance and background doesn’t totally fit the mould of being ‘Australian’. Chuck in a unique name, differing faith, contrasting family values and lunchbox meals that aren’t standard vegemite sandwiches - yup, that’s a whole lot of confusion!
Funnily enough, I was never really confused during my early childhood. I always associated more with being Indian than Australian. Like many of my friends, I grew up in a traditional South Indian household. My parents and brother migrated from Chennai in 1989, and I was a product of their new Australian life - born in Sydney’s St George Hospital a couple of years later.
My mum (amma) and dad (appa) ensured that the rich Indian traditions and Hindu religion were entrenched in the lives of my brother and I from a young age. I wore a pottu (also known as a bindi) every day, prayed in the morning and evening, adhered to a strict vegetarian diet and participated in cultural activities such as Bharatanatyam - classical Indian dancing, and carnatic music - classical Indian singing lessons. Dancing I was good at, the singing - not so much. My brother was definitely the golden child when it came to that!
Given that these traditions were just part of my everyday routine for the first decade of my life, I never thought too much about them.
However, the stark differences between ‘me’ and ‘them’ and battles with my cultural identity began to emerge when I was in Year 4.
With what I know now as an adult, I can understand how children are influenced to think a certain way from the conversations they hear and content they consume. But back then, I just couldn’t understand why kids I had grown up with who were initially so accepting of who I was, started to turn on me.
‘Curry muncher’. Words I remember to this day.
During primary school, being called this changed the way in which I acted and saw myself.
I distinctly remember walking quickly every time I passed a classmate and their older high school sibling. This was so that I wouldn’t make eye contact with them when they yelled ‘curry muncher!’.
I also began to remove the pottu I wore on my forehead every day once I entered the school gates, so I wouldn’t be teased. However, instead of throwing it away, I would stick my pottu on the back of my hand during school hours, and then put it back on when I got home. I did this so I wouldn’t upset my parents. To them, the pottu was steeped in tradition, being a representation of the ‘third eye’ in Hinduism. It is worn to ward away evil, but also as a symbol of wisdom. However, to me at that time, it was a symbol of embarrassment.
Fast forward a few years to high school, and strangers on the train would tell me: ‘go back to where you came from’. I would always think - but sir, I was born here, I come from here. However, I never had the courage to actually say anything back.
I would be embarrassed to walk in public wearing traditional Indian clothes if we had to stop by the shops on the way back from the temple.
I was self-conscious walking into surf stores such as Ripcurl or Billabong as a brown girl, as I didn’t feel like I belonged amongst the people who wore those brands.
Even something as minor as being vegetarian made me feel marginalised, as at the school canteen and restaurants there were very limited options for me. I was always ‘the other’.
All of this impacted the way in which I viewed my culture.
“I NOW REALISE THAT MY BACKGROUND IS WHAT MAKES ME SPECIAL.”
I can’t tell you exactly what it was or the moment I realised that really, it was shameful to be ashamed.
I now realise that my background is what makes me special.
That being bilingual and able to speak both Tamil and English is a skill that many people wish they had.
That having Hinduism as a faith allows me to see the best in everyone.
That I am fortunate to have been brought up within a culture that is so rich with history and traditions.
That being born an Indian is a blessing.
What I can tell you is once I began this journey of acceptance, my confidence improved and my outlook on the world changed.
Thinking about who I am now as an adult, I base many of my current interests and goals on my experiences from the past.
My insatiable desire to travel - wanting to understand the history, culture and ways of life of diverse communities around the world.
My love for learning Indian dance as an artistic way to express the beauty of movement and music ingrained in my culture.
My passion for Indian fashion and the hope that I can one day launch my own label to represent the beautiful colours and designs that South Asian traditions bring.
My new journey as a vegan - driven by values of wanting all living beings to co-exist peacefully and be free from harm in the world we all share.
I am acutely aware that my experiences will not be erased as time goes on, that society has not evolved as much as I’d hoped it would have and that Indian kids are still being bullied and ridiculed for things they should be proud of. But I hope that through stories such as this, and the positive influence of social media, more South Asian youth will be able to go on the same journey as I did to accept and embrace the gifts that we have been given.
WHAT WE EAT IS MEANINGFUL
One thing is guaranteed when growing up in a South Indian household - at least once a week, idli is on the menu. These savoury rice cakes bring back memories of my childhood and family - the thought of these soft, cushiony discs steaming as they come out of the pot still gets me excited! You should always pair idli with some spicy sambar, nothing beats it!
DISH OF OUR HERITAGE
IDLI WITH SAMBAR