“I ignored my identity for too long”
words: billie bhatia
Growing up as a second-generation immigrant in England I was frequently asked, “Where are you from?” To which I would reply, “Leicester.” “No, where are you from?” With an eye roll I would say, “Oh, I’m Indian.” And so, the exchange would go: “But you don’t look Indian, and you don’t sound Indian”, and with a snigger, “and you don’t smell Indian!” I should have shuddered at such comments, instead, I lapped them up, like some kind of back-handed compliments. It’s not that I didn’t want to be Indian – my love for my Nanima’s home-cooked parathas were too strong for me to negate my heritage entirely – but I certainly preferred my heritage muted. The white world…
