There shouldn’t be a standard for cultural identity
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When people find out I’m Catholic, they sometimes respond with “But you’re Indian.” Once I started to expect this answer, I too began to tie “Indianness” with a particular religious identity, and had a hard time seeing where I fit in.
My religious and cultural identity is rooted in the Syro-Malabar Church, an Eastern tradition of Catholicism that hails from my home state, Kerala. Even though some may assume my religion helps me assimilate to whiteness more easily, it hasn’t. The customs of my faith allow us to develop our own distinct identity and grow separately from Roman Catholicism, without isolating us from the larger religious body.
Though I have fortunately found affinity within my church community, our numbers throughout the United States are few and far between. As an Indian I am already a part of a minority class in America, and identifying myself as a minority among Indian Americans as well was initially distressing. I’ve become exposed to society’s vague and restrictive definitions of what it means to hold a particular identity.
When joining South Asian clubs in high school, I felt like an outsider. I related more to its non-South Asian members, learning about Indian culture more than being actively involved in an association that I had ties to. Other Indian Americans would often dismiss me as “white-washed” because of my religion, not knowing my family could trace our unique faith back centuries before European colonization in the subcontinent.
Though I am proud of my culture, it was challenging to see where I fit into South Asian or Christian spaces. For example, most South Asian clubs celebrate Diwali and Eid but don’t celebrate Christmas. Christian clubs celebrate Christmas, but their traditions differ from mine.
One typical Syro-Malabar Christmas tradition is caroling, where we go to every parish family’s house, sing carols and say prayers. We also build nativity scenes in our homes, using and spending whatever we can to ensure our family has the best one. And after midnight Mass and 25 days of Advent abstinence — we feast.
Being South Indian intensified this internal struggle. I sometimes felt my only claim to being Indian was fluency in my native tongue, Malayalam. However, India has 22 official languages, with Hindi being the most spoken and understood by its neighbors, Pakistan and Bangladesh. My limited knowledge of Bollywood movies and songs, which cater to its Hindi-speaking audience, further narrowed the similarities I had with most of my South Asian peers. The Malayalam-language film industry, known as Mollywood, is not as popular, and thus, my familiarity with it was not as valued.
Though it’s nearly impossible to define what makes me Indian, I can confidently say that a core component of being Indian is one’s religious identity, irrespective of which one it is. India is incredibly diverse, and religion and culture are thoroughly intertwined.
I’ve come to understand that the relationship between religion and culture in India is what made it difficult for other Indian Americans to understand my background: they couldn’t grasp how Catholicism could fit into the norms of Hindu-dominated Indian culture. They weren’t aware that they had already been connected for hundreds of years. Without my religion, my identity as an Indian would be completely lost — the unique history and traditions of the Syro-Malabar Christians are what I grew up celebrating. In practicing it, I am not “white-washed.”
I still don’t know how to prove that I’m “Indian enough.” However, I’ve now realized I don’t need to validate my identity for anyone.
The insecurity I felt for so many years about my identity is replaced by a desire to share and welcome those willing to know my background and experiences. I realized that the feeling of belonging I craved was underscored by a longing to be heard. I can’t always relate to everyone, but that shouldn’t deter me from learning about others and inviting them to learn about me.
It’s time to finally put aside our stereotypes and preconceived expectations for how certain people should act. It is crucial to keep in mind the intersectionality of each individual, especially in a space like Syracuse University, where we are exposed to many different ways of life.
Be open to learning about the minority communities within your larger community. By letting go of stereotypes that group us all into separate boxes, we can foster a greater understanding of each other, seek relationships surpassing proximity and expand our thinking.
Christy Joshy is a freshman International Relations and Accounting major. She can be reached at cjoshy@syr.edu.
