At the Intersection of Birth, Residence, and Religion

As a child, I read a fair share of books about second generation immigrants facing culture clashes and identity crises (the prototypical example being The Joy Luck Club). Even though I am a second-generation immigrant myself, I never faced any angst about my identity, and hence couldn’t understand what these books were aiming at. Even throughout high school, as I fought my parents for freedom and independence, I never really felt like that reflected on my identity, it was just my parents’ way of raising children.

Self-awareness slowly began to rise in college, as I realized how much American pop culture I was clueless about, and when I was first asked if I was American. In answer to the latter, I said ‘no’, mostly because I have always thought of myself as Indian, and I don’t identify with many inherently American traits (I read somewhere that the average American is obese, monolingual, and doesn’t hold a passport). However, upon hearing my reasoning, one friend challenged me with “well would you identify more with an Indian girl your age or an American one?” A great question, and obviously I would identify more with an American, which finally made me concede that I must be American after all.

The third prong of my identity comes from being born in a Sikh family. I was raised as a devout Sikh for more than half my life, until I realized I believe in science more than supreme powers, and declared myself an atheist. At this point, in my mind, I completely shed my Sikh identity. This is all old news, however, so why bring this up now? Last month, my parents held a Sikh prayer recital, called an Akhand Paat, in honor of my graduation. After spending two entire days with my extended family volunteering and listening to prayers at our local church, I realized that I will always be a Sikh, whether or not I believe. I found my lips automatically moving to the hymns that defined my childhood Sundays, and despite being Atheist, I got a great sense of peace, community and family bonding by being there.

So finally, at age 22, I can understand what an identity crisis is, and say happily, that I have solved mine with the below pie chart.

Yes, I am that bored at work.

:-)