Stinky Lunch With a Side of Insecurity
Reflecting on my upbringing with Indian parents in the United States, I often think about how it has shaped my perspective on the world and its people.
Many immigrant parents, including mine, initially strive to instill their customs and traditions in their children. For example, I have a Korean friend whose parents took him to church to appease their grandparents, only to realize later that none of them were particularly interested in the religion. Similarly, my parents made efforts when I was young, teaching me Hindu prayers, adorning my forehead with a bindi, massaging my hair with coconut oil, and preparing lunches of fragrant dal (a food item consisting of cooked lentils, usually accompanied by other vegetables), curries, and rice. I was never opposed to any of this, and the fact that my parents did all this for me shows how much they cared about me and preserving their culture. However, as I matured, I found myself participating in rituals and prayers despite lacking belief in them. My parents are fine with this since they aren’t too religious themselves, but I know sometimes they wish I was more traditional. Growing up in the United States, I found myself navigating between my Indian heritage and American upbringing, being both.
Observing my peers, I noticed a stark difference in their lunches. While my white and East Asian friends brought delicious-looking sandwiches, pasta, sushi, dumplings, or noodles, they rarely showed interest in my Indian cuisine. They would ask to share their food, but I noticed that they never asked to try mine. I started realizing that the other kids didn’t like my food, they thought it smelled weird and looked strange, so I started hiding my food under the lunch table, and soon refrained from eating altogether. My mom would get upset that I wasn’t eating during lunchtime when I brought back an untouched lunchbox. I didn’t understand the severity of what I was doing at the moment. I didn’t know that I was simply tossing away the food that my mother had thoughtfully prepared at five in the morning. Not only my mom’s efforts, but wasting food that someone hungry could’ve eaten.
Only later, when kind friends made an effort to appreciate Indian cuisine, did I realize the value of my heritage. Eventually, my mother found out, she tried to pack foods that didn’t look or smell strange, or Indian food that people are typically used to seeing such as dosa (a type of flatbread, resembling a savory crepe). To my mom, those foods are what she grew up with, that’s what she’s most comfortable with cooking, and they’re what’s known to her to be nutritious and filling. But to me, it wasn’t an improvement since my classmates had looked at my culture as a whole with distaste, and I stopped bringing food at all in middle school – not because the kids there bullied me for it as well, but because those experiences stuck with me and I was too scared of it occurring again.
Similar experiences resurfaced with my sister, who, like me at her age, struggles with fitting beauty standards. South Asians tend to have more body hair than others, which can be a blessing and a curse. For girls, it tends to be the latter, even though we tend to have longer eyelashes and fuller eyebrows, but those are things you disregard when you’re little. I recall being deeply insecure about my hairy legs when I saw that my white and East Asian friends didn’t have it like I did – but no one commented on it. But my sister has had different experiences. An unkind remark from a peer about why she was so hairy led her to question her body and if she should wax it off, at the young age of eight.
Cuisine and beauty standards seem to be two completely different ideas, but the emotional impact of insults directed at either of them is very similar. When someone’s cuisine is picked on, they don’t just stop bringing their ethnic foods, they try to reject their culture and it’s similar to beauty standards. Many are aware of the toxic beauty standards in East Asian countries; pale skin, slim bodies, long sleek, straight hair and double eyelids are what’s considered the epitome of ‘beauty’ when much of the population has monolids. But Indian beauty standards also say that pale skin is beauty, as all ‘beautiful’ famous Bollywood actresses were fair-skinned, while the entirety of southern India has deeper skin tones. At the same time, American beauty standards say that an ‘hourglass figure’, big lips, tiny noses, and hairless bodies for women are what’s attractive. This shouldn’t mean that all other people who don’t fulfill these toxic and unrealistic beauty requirements aren’t beautiful, and in the same way – none of our cuisines are the same, but we can love and appreciate the unique tastes of each. Furthermore, using the term ‘exotic’ can be hurtful sometimes, particularly when referring to individuals of different ethnic backgrounds, they can just be beautiful. The word ‘exotic’ inadvertently reinforces the notion that they don’t belong and perpetuates the sense of alienation.
Reflecting on these experiences, I realize the importance of empathy and acceptance in our interactions, especially as children. When we’re young, what we experience is what we learn and retain the best. This kind of subtle bullying can be extremely harmful on how a child will look at themselves and others of the same ethnicity. The more we hear how ‘ugly’ and strange we are, we start building up internalized racism that takes years and sometimes decades to overcome. Indian food is rich in flavor and culture, deserving of appreciation just as any other cuisine. Similarly, our diverse appearances should be embraced, not criticized. It's long overdue for a world where everyone feels valued, irrespective of their background, religion, or appearance.