In preparation for my trip to India I tried on a sari this morning. Six yards of slippery, satin fabric to be wrapped, tucked and draped around my body. I used the elastic waist of my yoga pants as a foundation and a simple fitted cotton t-shirt as a substitute for the blouse that Indian women wear. When I was finished I surveyed myself in the full length mirror. I looked OK, I had achieved the proper drape and proportions but I felt all wrong.
Last night I tried out the 3 different Salwar Kameez that I own in preparation for my trip to India. None of them feel right. It is as if I am stripping off my own skin and zipping on someone elses. I briefly considered going to our local India store to try on different salwar kameez in search of the perfect fit but realized what I am looking for doesn't exist. It is not just a matter of fit or fabric it is a question of identity.
I married outside of my culture and race. I was born and raised in England, my husband was born and grew up in India, we met, married and had children in America. As long as we stay in America we are a couple. When we go to our respective birthplaces we become strangers to each other. Try as I might to blend in, to be Indian, for the duration of our visit I am not. I feel like an actor and a very bad one at that. This disconnect, this feeling of always being out of place, out of time is I suspect what all immigrants feel when they first arrive in their new country. It is why some hold on to their language, dress code, eating habits far longer than helpful.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment