Bharati Shah and Sapna Shah (pseudonyms)
My daughter's graduation day is mine too.
May 18, 1995. It is the day of my daughter's graduation from college.
She is my only child, born a year after my 'rebirth' into this country, the United States of America. It was on her birth that I came face to face with the struggles of my new identity.
Today, as I sit here amongst proud American parents anxiously waiting for the convocation to begin, I am reflecting, once again, on my gains and losses as an Indian woman transformed into an Indian American mother.
Unlike my daughter, I never went to college. My father, like most traditional Indian parents, didn't think it important for a girl to be educated. Instead he felt it was important for a girl to master domestic duties. Thereafter, my father searched Ahmedabad high and low for a potential suitor and made arrangements for me to marry a boy with an engineering degree and one-way tickets to the JFK Airport in New York.
At the age of 22, I jumped at this prestigious opportunity, for I thought I was guaranteed a life without any of the hardships wives in India encounter, such as living with in-laws and constantly tending to house chores. I envisioned myself owning an American car, finer than the Indian-made Ambassador or Maruti. I also saw an American 'bungalow' in my future, decorated with 'imported' items that would cost hazaars of rupees. I dreamt of fancy dinner parties at my American home where I would wear the loveliest saris and the most exquisite jewelry bought in America. As for house work, I thought I wouldn't need to lift a finger because I had heard of automatic appliances to cook food and clean dishes. The boy I was going to marry had plans to be a mechanical engineer and I everyone knew that they usually make a lot of money, so I was guaranteed an affluent lifestyle.
Upon coming to America, I learned that my visions about life in America were only products of an overactive imagination, for the reality of America was something I was perplexed by, and to a certain extent, I still am, even after 24 years of living in this country!
The images of an American bungalow decorated with 'imported' articles evaporated early, for my husband could only afford a one bedroom apartment infested with cockroaches and mice in Brooklyn, New York. As for ornaments in our 'home,' all we had was a picture of Sri Naji hanging in the living room above the sofa. I never got to wear saris. Most Indian women I met wore western outfits, so I conformed.
My husband and I did not live the 'good life' when we first settled in the United States, since we were trying to save as much money as we could. For that matter, I did not have any automatic appliances to ease the house work. We also did not own a car until several years later. My husband and I made many sacrifices to establish a sense of financial and personal security. While making these sacrifices and trying to adjust to the American way of life, I became a mother. The stress of adapting to the American way of life grew as I was challenged to raise my child in this country.
I was filled with joy, as well as intense fear, when my daughter was born. I was frightened because this child was a girl, an 'American' girl. As I first held this baby in my arms, deep down inside I wished that the baby was actually an 'American' boy.
Growing up in India and being greatly influenced by my father's chauvinism, I favored sons over daughters, because, traditionally, parents took pride in a son's achievements. Hence, a son was considered a gem. A daughter, on the other hand, was a heartache, since her fate was to leave her parents and marry after enough dowry had been accumulated. Therefore, for an Indian parents, having a son was to win, and having a daughter was to lose.
It was difficult for me to change my thinking about girls, and I was scared to raise my daughter as an American. In this country, women are equal to men, aspiring for the same goals. My daughter, who would receive an American education, would embrace this concept. How was I to encourage her in doing this? I had difficulties believing in 'women's liberation,' because I was simply not brought up to believe in it. If I did accept its precepts, would I be denying my Indian heritage?
As my daughter was growing up, there were many problems in our relationship because I tried to protect her from certain American influences, which often sparked her to rebel against me. There was the time she wanted to play on the girls' softball team while in middle school, and I refused to grant permission simply because I felt she should spend that time after school completing her homework and helping out with house chores. I could not understand why a young girl would want to play softball!
I often found myself thinking that the female gender in this country should know its appropriate role in society. During her teenage years, I realized that my daughter could not tolerate my thinking. She thought I was stupid, particularly over matters such as dating. Her question to me was, "How come American parents allow their kids to date, and you won't allow me to date?" My answer, as always, was: "Because we're Indian ... and Indian girls would never even think of doing something like that!"
She often tried to persuade me to change my mind, but I was adamant. I felt I had to remain firm to my convictions, for I wanted my daughter to learn to be Indian ... and I wanted to remain Indian.
My daughter did not learn the domestic chores that I was taught to master as a girl growing up in India. Instead, she excelled in school, particularly in the language arts. After she finished high school, my husband and I did not pressure her to attend college, as we would have pressured a son. However, she wanted to go to college and make something of herself.
Her thinking baffled me. I thought that perhaps she may want to study until we found a nice boy for her to marry, but she rebelled against that too. Her intentions were to finish college and become an 'independent woman.' The phrase 'independent woman' scared me. Independent from what? Did this mean that she did not uphold the Indian heritage her father and I had taught her? I always had difficulties understanding my Indian American daughter. Dating, wanting to be 'independent,' and improving herself through education were elements of American womanhood that I was unfamiliar with. I was afraid for my daughter because I could not guide her.
Now, as I watch my daughter walk up the podium to receive her college degree, I realize that she has done well as an Indian American woman. Her college degree is not only a token of recognition of her hard work in school, but it symbolizes a force that has enabled her to break free from the mentality that has imprisoned me from the freedom America has to offer. Upon coming to this country, I only saw America for the monetary fortunes to be found. I neglected to see the possibilities I could have taken advantage of to become a strong woman.
It took me a long time to understand the meaning of a 'liberated woman.' As I look at my daughter clasp her diploma, I feel fortunate to have her educate me about this country and the convictions of an Indian American woman. Her graduation day is mine too.
Bharti Shah and Sapna Shah. Graduation Day for Mummy. http://206.20.14.67/achal/archive/sep96/grad.htm. September 1996.