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Thursday, August 6, 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
MICHIGAN IN COLOR
Cracking open the coconut:
the reality of being a ‘white
washed Indian’
“Are you even Indian?”
“You’re so light-skinned, you must be
half.”
“Why do you listen to so much white
music?”
“He’s a coconut (brown on the outside,
white on the inside).”
“She’s barely brown, have you seen who
she hangs out with?”
To be honest, I’ve said some of these
things before, and I’ve been on the receiv-
ing end of them. But I have no clue what they
even mean. Lately, I’ve been stuck on one
thought: What is a “whitewashed Indian?”
It doesn’t exist.
The term “white” refers to people of cul-
tures across Europe, particularly Western
Europe. Someone who is white could have
ancestry coming from Italy, Greece, Poland,
Switzerland, France, Germany, etc. Today,
white people live across much of the globe
and make up the majority of the population
of America. While their ancestry can often
be traced back to Europe, this global resi-
dence can be considered a result of imperial-
ism and migration patterns.
Being white in America often refers to
someone’s fair complexion, and the term
“whitewashing” often refers to the erasure
of culture using whiteness. An example of
this can be seen in Hollywood when a char-
acter of color is portrayed by a white actor,
such as when Matt Damon was cast to play
the role of a Chinese soldier in the film, “The
Great Wall.” However, in the context of a
saying someone is white washed, the term is
applied to people to claim they have stripped
themselves of their color and adopted “white
culture.” But there is no standard of how
cultured you can be to qualify as a person of
color.
Furthermore, the term “whitewashed
One rice ball at a time
SUNITHA PALAT
MiC Staff Writer
Graphic by Hibah Chughtai
The “5 Love Languages,” pioneered by
Gary Chapman in the 1992 book, are coined
as the five primary ways to express and
receive love with those in your life. They
include words of affirmation, receiving gifts,
quality time, physical touch and acts of ser-
vice. By correctly identifying your love lan-
guage, and the love language of those around
you, you may be able to improve relation-
ships by showing people appreciation and
care in the way they best receive it. Although
the love languages are mainly used amongst
romantic partners, I find they encapsulate
major parts of any loving relationship includ-
ing platonic connections with friends and
family.
What intrigues me is what might happen
to a relationship when certain circumstances
make these five languages inaccessible. I’ve
grown up speaking English and can under-
stand, but speak very little of my native
language Malayalam. My grandparents
are the opposite: They speak fluent Malay-
alam and just enough English to somewhat
slice through my accent, understand and
put out an unstable response. Quality time
and physical touch are sparse and forced
when pushed into a quick two-week visit
every other year. Receiving gifts—although
it means little to me as is—doesn’t happen
when you don’t spend birthdays, holidays or
anniversaries together. Words of affirma-
tion become difficult when the two parties
can just barely understand basic dialogue
between one another.
The relationship between my grandpar-
ents and myself has been atypical compared
to most of the grandparent-grandchild rela-
tionships I’ve seen growing up. I was raised
in the U.S. and they lived in India for most
of my adolescent years; my father’s parents
(Achacha and Achamma) immigrated back
to the U.S. very recently — because of their
old age and growing need for care — and
have been living with my family or my cous-
ins at different points of the year they have
been here. As the two of them have spent
time at home with us during quarantine, I’ve
reflected on the relationship I’ve curated
with them and how it compares to the ones I
would see growing up on television, at school
events and at friends’ houses — oftentimes
sugar coated, sweet and supportive. Cultural
barriers and physical barriers have made
this connection hard for me to find with my
grandparents. Yet, the language barrier is
the hardest part.
Communication with both sets of my
grandparents is endearingly broken. It usu-
ally functions with simple dialogue — one
party speaks slowly in their primary lan-
guage, one of my parents mediates as a
translator (which has become increasingly
important as my grandparents’ hearing has
worsened over the years) and the other party
replies a short response to keep it simple.
Frankly, it’s hard for me to develop a real,
meaningful connection with someone when
I can’t openly converse with them or get to
know their lives, experiences, deep thoughts
and ideas — the list goes on and on. Why?
Maybe because for me, words of affirma-
tion (and generally, communication through
conversation) is my primary love language.
Thus, the language barrier has made my per-
ception of our connection blurry. Yet, after
looking more broadly at the love languages,
I’ve found the less obvious forms of commu-
nication between my grandparents and me;
the love doesn’t dwindle because our verbal
conversations are strained. It presents itself
in different forms.
Take acts of service, for example. There’s
a vivid memory I have from around age six
when my dad’s parents had been visiting
from India for a few months over my summer
vacation. During the day, their schedules
remained pretty constant: make breakfast,
read prayers, watch Malayalam soap operas
and cook.
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Indian,” doesn’t make sense, since there
is no one culture associated with the term
“white.” So when someone refers to you as a
“whitewashed Indian,” are they saying you
are immersed in Italian culture? Greek cul-
ture? Maybe you could say that they’re refer-
ring to American culture, but the last time I
checked, the term “American” does not equal
“white.”
Let’s say they are referring to American
culture. “Hey Prisha, you, an American who
is of Indian descent and a first-generation
immigrant, are so immersed in American
culture.” To be honest, I’ve called my friends
whitewashed before, never realizing the
implications of it. To my friends, I apologize,
there is no shame in being immersed in the
culture of the country you live in.
Who are we to judge how someone else
chooses to interact with the culture of their
family? What are the qualifications of being
“cultured” or “whitewashed?” If you speak
your native language, but haven’t kept up
with pop culture and Bollywood, what do
you qualify as? If you eat daal roti sabzi for
dinner every night, but can’t handle some
spicy sambar, what do you qualify as? If you
prefer the Jonas Brothers and One Direction
over A.R. Rehman and Shreya Goshal, what
do you qualify as?
When you are a first or second-genera-
tion immigrant, there is no standard level
of information and culture you ingrain from
your country of origin. There is no check-
list to follow that quantifies what percent-
age of the culture you practice. You simply
learn from what your family does and from
what communities you live in. You develop
your own culture based on your childhood
experiences and use it to guide your life. And
whether your personal culture is derived
mostly from Indian or American...
Read more at michigandaily.com
PRISHA GROVER
MiC Staff Writer
Graphic by Hibah Chughtai