Every year, Tufts University offers a supplement application question that asks prospective students to reflect on a Quaker saying, "Let your life speak," prompting us to explore our upbringings and what it meant to them. As I'm about halfway done with my first semester at Tufts, I feel like I have experienced so many little epiphanies about my upbringings, home and identity by going to discussion platforms and by simply interacting with my peers. This has inspired me to respond to my high-school-senior-year response to this thoughtful question.
My college supplement response:
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The wheels chafed against my ankles, as I pedaled my bike on my first ride in India. Seeking a little fresh air after my third international move, I began maneuvering along the roads, traversing my “home country”. Within a few minutes, I was bewildered by the chaotic traffic and the cacophonous honks that forced me to dodge the myriad of animals and seek haven in the secure walls of my compound.
I hail from India, so shouldn’t I feel at home here? Instead, the freedom that I had always experienced from riding my bike seemed to disappear. The bike could no longer take me where I wanted to go. Outdoors, I could not stand the putrid stench of chicken tikka, smoke and cows. My ears throbbed from the roadside clamor and I felt a crumbling sense of identity. The freedom that had always come with bike riding fettered me, forcing me to wonder, do people see that I’m different here, or is it just me?
As time has passed, I have continued taking bike rides, slowly adjusting myself. Now, I am welcomed with warm smiles from the fruit vendor and a few neighbors. But quite truthfully, I am still mustering the courage to cycle outside my compound. I pedal up to the walls, peer outside, and picture the day that I’ll be at home in the bustling chaos that awaits beyond. But I know I am getting closer to my Indian culture. I now ride my bike along the fence.
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Firstly, thus far, I haven't had the opportunity to ride a bike in college, because so much of college life entails walking. But I digress...
Not feeling "Indian enough", is a sentiment that I continue to resonate within America, even though in India, my awareness of being "an outsider" was slightly more direct, due to my constant interactions with "the roadside clamor" and the little everyday quirks.
In college, I've come to realize that the feeling of displacement is something that continues to prevail no matter where I am. And that's OK. In fact, "riding along that fence" of an unbeknownst identity is a feeling that has inspired enlightening conversations with my peers, and has consequently allowed me to grapple and accept my third-culture-kid(TCK) upbringing. Growing up in three different countries, while the majority of your cousins grow up in one, can often feel extremely alienating. I remember feeling confused when my grandparents would ask about my fluctuating accent, one that bounces from Indian to American without my awareness. I remember eating french fries with chopsticks when I moved from China to the USA- feeling an intense pride in finding a transcultural unity in food! I remember being able to recite a "C60 tape"; what my parents would lovingly coin for my monologic response to the question, "Where are you from?". In a way, my life has spoken in a manner that has allowed me to take pride in "being a local of many cities", as Taiye Selasi would say; from Shanghai, to Baltimore, to Delhi to Mumbai. In college, the biggest epiphany that I have experienced is to embrace your upbringing, and also to appreciate/explore your new environments. It does take a lot of courage to cycle outside your compound walls. Sure, I continue to feel foreign, but I have found inspiration in meeting people here that aren't even Indian yet speak fluent Hindi. I have found acceptance in not knowing the name of the every Bollywood tune that is occasionally played at parties. And I have found strength in friends who share similar experiences of not knowing where they're from. I still "pedal up to the walls" and peer into my cultural ethnicity of India, exploring dance groups and cultural organizations. But I have also found a home in other cultural clubs, and that's perfectly okay too.
What I'm trying to say is: though I have yet to ride a bike around Tufts, I continue to experience the constant cultural stimulation that is associated with riding my bike. I continue to grapple with articulating my upbringings. And I continue to have moments of confusion. And that's OK. I'm getting closer to my many cultures- and now I ride my bike along many fences.
