Stranger in a strange land

I don´t know that I´ve ever actually been anywhere where I´ve felt at home. This world is a strange place, but leaving it doesn´t seem like such a good idea either. Maybe it was growing up as a minority of a minority (sure there are other Indian Muslims in the US, but nothing compared to the Hindus). Maybe it´s just second-child syndrome. Or like most other things I can probably find some way to blame my parents. But that all doesn´t really matter now does it.

I actually spent the majority of my childhood rebeling against those facts. I remember being in grade school and wishing I was white. Heck even being black would have been better than being the only Indian kid in school.

Eventually envy turned to bitterness. Not too long ago I was sitting around with friends and going off on one of my frequent rants on the evil white man, and my friend Jason called me out, ¨Dude, you´re as white as I am on the inside.¨ Ouch! That brought back all those memories in a hurry.

But maybe that´s why I feel so comfortable here. Here I obviously don´t fit in. Being ambigiously ethnic I might be able to pass for not a gringo, but as soon as I open my mouth the jig is up. But I don´t expect myself to belong here and neither does anyone else. No one has to understand me, I don´t have to try to fit in. I can just be myself, whoever that is.