When night falls
Dec. 22nd, 2002 06:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I have had a horrible, horrible, hellish day, and it was all of my own making. Perhaps. Maybe.
Maybe I haven't made it entirely clear, but I don't fit in here. I don't fit in at all. And I used to think it was just the language barrier, but it isn't. I don't like it here. Which is not true, because sometimes I do. But I don't belong. I don't like huggung relations I have never met and will never meet again, most likely, and I hate myself for being so ungrateful. I do. I hate them, and I hate me.
Everyone looks at me like I'm a freak. And for fuck's sake who blames them, because that is exactly what I am. The way I talk, the things I say, the clothes I wear, my lack of submissiveness...
Oh, yes. I'm a girl. Well, fuck you, I am not a subservient kiss-your-feet-and-worship-your-fucking-Y-chromosome little girl. I open my mouth and offer my opinion, and they laugh, because they've never seen it happen before (and they never will again). And someone asked me some time ago how I ever expected to get married, arguing so much.
I'm a girl. I am the only girl of my generation in this family. The boys have gone to see some slice of Hindi film crappiness, Khaante - I didn't go. I ran for it. Pedar caught me and asked if I was okay, and I lied. He brought me here.
This is better because for once I'm on my own, and the day has been filled with people who all seem to think I am a toy to make gentle fun of, and she won't mind, because it isn't her life they're tossing around like a football, and it doesn't matter at all, because she isn't a good little Indian girl, only a fucking foreigner!
I don't want to change myself. I am who I am who I am... and in the middle of all their trying to persuade me to speak Hindi, no-one ever suggests they all learn English.
That was an uncharitable thought, I'm sorry.
And in the end, it doesn't matter because I'm leaving. Yes, I am. I'm leaving and I'm not coming back. Some random distant relation asked me today, "Why don't you live here? Tell your parents you want to come and live here! England... not home. This is home!"
I wanted to get up and scream, "No! Fuck you!"
But I didn't. I said, "I will, Auntie."
I am a misfit. I am the wrong person, in the wrong time, in the wrong place, and I don't belong and I begin to feel I don't belong anywhere.
I want to come back here. I like it here, it is the home of my ancestors. But an Indian family structure is like this - for so long as I am alive, my male relations will feel like they have the right to tell me what to do. Because they are male. Because they have penises.
I can keep myself safe by hiding. I've lived in Britain for my entire life, and I'm kind of... happy there. And no-one can ever take control of me, never never never, because I argue too much, and when night falls it doesn't matter, because I'm not important anyway.
Maybe I haven't made it entirely clear, but I don't fit in here. I don't fit in at all. And I used to think it was just the language barrier, but it isn't. I don't like it here. Which is not true, because sometimes I do. But I don't belong. I don't like huggung relations I have never met and will never meet again, most likely, and I hate myself for being so ungrateful. I do. I hate them, and I hate me.
Everyone looks at me like I'm a freak. And for fuck's sake who blames them, because that is exactly what I am. The way I talk, the things I say, the clothes I wear, my lack of submissiveness...
Oh, yes. I'm a girl. Well, fuck you, I am not a subservient kiss-your-feet-and-worship-your-fucking-Y-chromosome little girl. I open my mouth and offer my opinion, and they laugh, because they've never seen it happen before (and they never will again). And someone asked me some time ago how I ever expected to get married, arguing so much.
I'm a girl. I am the only girl of my generation in this family. The boys have gone to see some slice of Hindi film crappiness, Khaante - I didn't go. I ran for it. Pedar caught me and asked if I was okay, and I lied. He brought me here.
This is better because for once I'm on my own, and the day has been filled with people who all seem to think I am a toy to make gentle fun of, and she won't mind, because it isn't her life they're tossing around like a football, and it doesn't matter at all, because she isn't a good little Indian girl, only a fucking foreigner!
I don't want to change myself. I am who I am who I am... and in the middle of all their trying to persuade me to speak Hindi, no-one ever suggests they all learn English.
That was an uncharitable thought, I'm sorry.
And in the end, it doesn't matter because I'm leaving. Yes, I am. I'm leaving and I'm not coming back. Some random distant relation asked me today, "Why don't you live here? Tell your parents you want to come and live here! England... not home. This is home!"
I wanted to get up and scream, "No! Fuck you!"
But I didn't. I said, "I will, Auntie."
I am a misfit. I am the wrong person, in the wrong time, in the wrong place, and I don't belong and I begin to feel I don't belong anywhere.
I want to come back here. I like it here, it is the home of my ancestors. But an Indian family structure is like this - for so long as I am alive, my male relations will feel like they have the right to tell me what to do. Because they are male. Because they have penises.
I can keep myself safe by hiding. I've lived in Britain for my entire life, and I'm kind of... happy there. And no-one can ever take control of me, never never never, because I argue too much, and when night falls it doesn't matter, because I'm not important anyway.
Excuse me for writing this, but
on 2002-12-22 06:20 am (UTC)I have a lot of great-aunts etc. in Delhi and yes, this has happened to me.
Oh, yes. I'm a girl. Well, fuck you, I am not a subservient kiss-your-feet-and-worship-your-fucking-Y-chromosome little girl. I open my mouth and offer my opinion, and they laugh, because they've never seen it happen before
If they're anything like my people, they laugh because they don't know what else to do, or because they're scared. After a while they stop laughing and start being really scared.
Good luck, and what with the million coincidences, hope you don't mind that I added you.
no subject
on 2002-12-22 08:43 am (UTC)i mean.. you feel at home in Britain.. and that's where you belong, if that's where you feel at home. it's funny how although relatives are the ones who are supposed to love you unconditionally, they're oftentimes the most critical of the choices that we make. i've come to expect that kind of shit from the outside world, but not from my family. alas, i get it anyhow. i think you just have to take it with a grain of salt and remember that they want what THEY think is best for you.. they do it out of love and good intention, even if both are misguided.
.. but didn't someone once say that the road to Hell is paved with good intentions? ;D
nah. have a happy holiday, sweetness. brush your family off. with other people i think it's ok to argue but life is too short to spend openly hating your family. most of my relatives are huge assholes to me just because of the music i listen to and how i dress (because most of them are strict Mormons, just as i used to be).. i have to grin and bear it. i've found that it works.
much <3,
Rebecca.
no subject
on 2002-12-22 09:32 am (UTC)Or maybe not huggles, as that's probably not what you need right now, so I'll pat you on your shoulder, or poke you to remind myself (and you) that you are real.
You can be who you want to be. Ignore them.
As Oscar Wilde says (I'm having an Oscar Wilde phase, ignore me)
"To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance."
I love you mucho.
no subject
on 2002-12-22 10:17 am (UTC)It's just a cultural thing, sweetie. And I don't think that you'll ever understand them, or they you.
But you belong here, sad to say.
Come back soon, sweetie!
no subject
on 2002-12-22 01:57 pm (UTC)Nolite te bastardes carborundorum ;)
no subject
on 2002-12-22 05:17 pm (UTC)Your Iona teh yoda and merry fucking christmas to ya!
I found a great quote today from the movie seven. It has brad pitt in it...looks incredibly yum.
Anywho, its about the seven deadly sins and they are detectives yadda yadda yadda and brad pitt says
'just because you have a library card doesnt make you yoda'
And I got kinda depressed because your yoda and your in un-local places. nevermind, eh? I think Im staying on for sixth form if that helps. hah no. But yeah, my paternal unit is all of the no go to art college, so I think we should stake out the cosy back common room until september.
EEEEEEH I may hate society of teh west but I am not a great fan of society else where either. Respect should be something universal... as mrs enstone/finch would preach to us.
ummmmmmmm look out for yourself
xoxx
no subject
on 2002-12-23 06:09 am (UTC)And besides, it can't be that bad. Bollywood movies are 99% slash. You should introduce the concept ;-)
Happy crimbo.