Growing Up as a First-Generation American

By: Sneha Subramani

My name is Sneha Subramani. I am a 17-year-old female from Madison, Alabama, and the daughter of two immigrants who immigrated to America, from Bangalore, India in 1997. I was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, moved to Madison, AL when I was four years old and have lived here ever since. Today, I am proud to be a part of both beautiful countries, India, and America. My culture from both countries is something I hold dear to my heart and proudly cherish. However, this was not always the case. Growing up in a country and state that constantly looks down on people of color and non-Christians is not an easy feat. I am here to share my story.

When my family first moved to Madison, Alabama, I was enrolled in “Madison Academy,” a Private Christian school. As mentioned before, I am not a Christian. However, this was one of the top-ranked preschools in Madison at the time, so my parents still enrolled me. Being 4 years old, I could not separate the educational aspect of the school from the Christian aspect. I would often learn Christian values and bring those same Christian values home. My parents would then try to correct those values, instead instilling the values of Hinduism. Looking back, I realize this where the difficulty of living as a first-generation American was first introduced to me. I was taught to live one way at school and taught to live one way at home. It created a tension that made me, at 4 years old, want to keep my ‘Indian life” separate from “school life,” and this is how I intended to live for the rest of my school career.

In Hinduism, it is a regular custom for children to shave their head three times after they are born. It is a religious ceremony where family and friends come together at a temple to be a part of. The summer before I entered Kindergarten, I visited India and had my head shaved for the third time as per custom. You can only imagine the ridicule I endured at only the age of 6. I was stared at differently. It was very hard to feel “pretty” after constantly being told I looked like a boy and turning on the tv and seeing every single girl with long, blonde hair. When asked why I shaved my head, I would at all costs tried to avoid answering. I was ashamed to tell people that it was part of my religion, scared they might think it was “weird” and in turn, thinking the same of me. This started a very long and hard, love-hate relationship with my culture. I tried to distance myself from at all costs. I wanted nothing more than to be “normal” like the other kids at school. I did not understand how I could be proud of something that made me endure so much ridicule and made me so different.

It is of no surprise of the part religion plays into this country, especially in the southern states, like Alabama. Again, from a very young age, I was always taught to be silent when it comes to religion. In the 1st grade, when discussing Christmas, I told my teacher that I did not celebrate Christmas because I did not believe in Jesus. She looked shocked and uncomfortable. I went home that day and told my parents what had happened and they immediately laughed and told me that I could not “go around saying stuff like that,” as it could change the way people would see and treat me. Ever since then, I was ashamed to not practice the religion that a majority of my peers and mentors practiced. I was embarrassed to talk about my religion because people labeled Hindus as “cow worshippers” or “the people that have the elephant god.”

All these experiences, as mentioned before, led me to have a love-hate relationship culture. I wanted to keep my culture away from my friends because I did not want them to think I was any different than them. All throughout middle and elementary school, I felt as if I had to prove to my peers that I was more “white” than Indian. I would never post pictures of me in traditional Indian clothing. I would always act as if I did not know anything about Indian culture. I would always feel embarrassed when my mom would speak in our native language in front of my friends. I would tell my parents not to act so “Indian” when coming to my school. I would never bring Indian food for lunch because people would say that it was “gross.” I would often try to break common Indian stereotypes by trying out for our middle school’s dance team, a local dance studio’s competition team, and running for class president. But it was hard not to feel like an outsider in my own country in which I was born and raised, when I would get dirty looks as organizations, like these, would pray after each event and I would respectfully not participate, or when I was asked to dance in a church Christmas play, but then was later was told I could not dance due to my religion and culture. Not to mention, some of my peers would tell me that the only reason I was able to get into these organizations was that I would add “diversity.”

I spent a lot of years hating my culture and it took a lot to overcome that. After seeing YouTubers like Lilly Singh, openly talk about her culture online, Indian women like Kamala Harris run for president, and gaining more Indian/accepting friends was I only able to learn to love my culture. In fact, for every person that made me ashamed of my culture and made me feel like an outsider, there was one that made me feel at home. These individuals made me realize that my culture is what makes me beautiful. It is what makes me unique. It is what makes me, me. These experiences or this article does not even begin to explain the years of turmoil I went through by trying to distance myself from my culture, but it allows others to get a glimpse of what it is like living in this country as a first-generation American. Although many people may make us feel and think we are foreigners to this country due to our religion, culture, and our skin color, we are not. We grew up in this country, it is our home.

Although these experiences were far from ideal, I would not change a single about my past. It made me into who I am today and that is a person I happen to be very proud of. I believe that many first-generation Americans take their culture for granted, but it is something that they should hold of very high esteem. I hope people who are reading this and feel like they have to hide their culture, realize that their culture is what makes them beautiful. I also hope that people who read this and have made people feel ashamed of their culture in their past realize the toll it takes on a person.

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