My visit to India wasn’t the magical return to the motherland suggested by so many Instagram captions. It was more of an awkward hug from an old friend.
The morning after we landed, my father hired an auto rickshaw. We asked him to take us to a grocery store that we noticed a couple streets over when we drove in from the airport. The driver immediately told us we’d be better off going to a different store because the store we were referring to was owned by someone from a particular caste, my own birth burden, and that meant the prices would be higher than at other stores in the area. In that moment, I definitely could have said something – agreed, argued – but all I did was paused, I gave a noncommittal nod, welcoming any more thoughts he may want to share.
And so I willfully fell into the loudest silence of my life.
I listened to taxi drivers talk about our politicians embarrassing us in the international eye. I listened to local vendors grieve about capitalism and gentrification, refreshingly, without the Bay Area vocabulary and diplomacy I was used to. I witnessed young men struggling with indecision, held back by a hetero-patriarchal society and the need to appear of hyper-independent. In the warmth of the kitchen, I heard women’s frustration and loneliness. In the late hours of the night during Ramzan, I gave into the buzz of the crowd and wafts of delicious food that overwhelmed the Charminar. At the bank, I received stellar customer service the second the tellers saw our home address, the privilege of the dollar being no joke.
I didn’t speak much, yet I received more than I could ask for – honesty and intensity in everything – joy, hospitality, grief, community, anger – everything.
I saw reflections of myself in so many places. I found comfort in people caring for each other, in acceptance, and in forgiveness. Parts of me validated by seeing those values expressed by people that look like me. I distinctly noticed parts of me completely invisible to my privileged presence. I looked and looked for signs of queerness, of dissent, and of curiosity – I couldn’t see them anywhere. I know they’re there, and until they are allowed to be more visible, I will do my due diligence of looking harder.
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