Far From Home and Loving It

Hello All,

This morning I woke up with a wry smile on my face after yesterday's emotional fallout. I realized that, yes this was a foreign country and yes, I was more than likely the first black woman these men and women had ever seen. I realized that while yes, I had been in this uncomfortable position many before, I was thousands of miles from any place I had even tentatively called home. Yes, I was frightened, angry and tired. However I realized something else: This dissonance was giving me an opportunity to harmonize the dissonance in my relation to my environment both internally cognative and externally social. I had never learned to accept the terms of my immersion in a new culture and the significance it would have on each fragment of my identity. In one encounter I had to reconcile that past with the collision of my identity as not only "the only black woman here" but as just being here. To say it simply, I had to stop defining myself in terms of what I was not--but to accept that my identity is and has always been whole. Looking back at this experience I am grateful for it.

It made me recognize that there is a difference between who I am wholly and what is highlighted in any particular context. So while in Delhi I am aware of myself as a woman, a minority, and a student. Rolling over in bed, my smile grew wider as I realized that I was also a tourist. We New Yorkers have a complicated relationship with tourists; though we regard them with disdain we each secretly wish we too could amble down the street on a weekday afternoon slack jawed and spending money eagerly.

If I am a foreigner as a result of being a woman, a minority, and a student then I am a tourist as well!

Today we were lucky enough to have enough time to discover that a wistful smile and headshake do have a universal translation. At the end of the day, one stall the vendor motioned me back over to hand me a free gift-she took my hand in hers and stacked a series of small pink bracelets over my wrist smiling the whole time. They are beautiful--they clink when I shake my wrists and have tiny mirrors that twinkle in the light. I had meant to ask Noopur why she gave the to me, but shrugged it off. After all it didn't really matter why -- I have had a peaceful day and it was a pleasant surprise. Towards the end of the evening, however , my curiosity got the better of me and I asked Noopur what she thought. She looked up and said "She wanted you to know that Indians could be nice."

I think I can