To the man who yelled racist remarks at me from his car while I was walking on the sidewalk:
Thank you.
I used to consider myself lucky for having experienced very minimal hatred directed towards me in my life. But after having lived in Indianapolis, Los Angeles, and Brisbane (Australia), cities with diverse enough populations to warrant my reasonable expectation of not having racist remarks hurled at me by strangers in the street, I'd started to take my privilege for granted. That is, until I came to Bloomington, Indiana, home of Indiana University, where in less than two hours I was greeted by what I can only imagine is the typical greeting for new brown people around these parts: a horribly mispronounced and syntactically incorrect "Allah Akbar" yelled out of the window of a red pickup truck speeding by. Thank you not only for the warm welcome, but also for reminding me how fortunate I am to have lived in places where the people do not participate in such behavior.
Thank you for reminding me that I made the right decision in choosing to go to the University of Southern California over Indiana University.
I know moving so far away wasn't easy for my family, and it's still one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. I remember sitting on the bus headed to high school graduation, surrounded by all my friends who were comparing which dorms and neighborhoods they wanted to live in at IU. And after feeling like my friends were going to go on having tons of fun in college without me, I started to question my choice to move. My first few months of freshman year I even thought I might eventually transfer back. But three years later, and with just two words, you eliminated all doubt I may have ever had in my mind. Thank you.
Finally, thank you for reaffirming my own sense of identity. While demographically diverse, the neighborhood I grew up in was certainly lacking when it came to other South Asians. And though I never really experienced hatred, I grew tired over people's tendency to go in one of two directions -- extreme ignorance or extreme interest in my culture -- and I wanted instead to be like a white American who didn't have to deal with constant questions. This internal identity struggle is something that many second-generation Americans go through, and it took me years to overcome. Yet at the end of it all, I realized that my Sri Lankan-ness does not lessen or diminish my American-ness. But with one sentence, you reminded me that no matter what I say or do, my skin, hair, and eye color will always make the first impression for me. It doesn't matter if I'm wearing a sarong and eating biryani out of a banana leaf or scarfing down a burger and fries while the national anthem plays in the background; people who have negative perceptions of people who look like me will assume what they want to fit that bias. So thank you for reminding to be as unapologetically and openly in love with my culture as I want, other people be damned.
Regardless of whether your intention was to help validate my life or not, all I can respond with is "thank you." The next time I find myself in a big city, start to question my life decisions, or drive down the street blaring Bollywood music, I'll remember you and the confidence you gave me.
Sincerely,
The one who's stronger because of you
