I write from St. Louis, Missouri, a city I love as both a place where I entered USA and a place I have chosen to call home. Most all people are nice to me, people I work with, people I meet during travel, people I meet at an auto repair shop when I am waiting for my car. They are all accepting, glad, and happy that I chose to come to US (Rolla - shout out to MS&T) for graduate education, and chose to work in St. Louis, contributing to the economy here. As my friends have flocked to the east and west coasts, in search of ever bigger salaries, I chose to make St. Louis my home, bought a condo in Florissant, and looked to be accepted. More below the fold..
At work, colleagues often ask me, do you plan to settle here? They say, if so, your kids' kids' will not have any Indian left in them. They will be Americans. I often ponder this question, and nine out of ten times, my answer is, yes, I want to.
But that one time out of ten, it is a resounding 'NO'. It is a wish to go back to be one of the rest. Because you see, despite all I do that Americans do, to some that do not know me, and judge me by my color, I am not one of them.
That one time out of ten is when you go out and ride a bike, as you ride down the footpath, when you hear a choice insult hurled at you by someone driving by. Or when you go out on the interstate driving, sticking to rules, and good driving etiquette, that someone gives you the middle finger for no reason. It is when you choose to walk to the local Walgreens rather than drive, and walk back and you her a 'Jerk!' call shouted out at you from a passing vehicle, for no apparent reason.
See what is common to these incidents? They are driving, away. To be clear, I have never encountered a racist call, or a hoot, or an insult in person ever. I get along with everyone I meet, and am able to make good small talk with everyone I meet, even when I do not know them. To the people in the cars driving away, I am not me. I am a stereotype of something they hate, or more likely, something they fear. More disturbingly, these are not middle aged men who are threatened that do this. They are almost always teens to thurtysomething men.
Every time this happens, I am unexpectedly saddened and consumed by a thought that I am not welcome here, and must go back to where the people will see me as one of their own. But then, I come back to trusting America's endurance, and resolve to do what is right, and hope the clouds will clear.
I was at Six Flags earlier today. A friend and I were on the Superman ride (the one where they drop you) and there was a white couple occupying the remaining two seats. As the ride took us up, slowly, the fear, and excitement filling all four of us were the same. As we were dropped from above, the moment of trepidation in our hearts was the same. As we screamed our lungs out, our voices resonated. At the end, the exhilaration remained was such that, we did not need to communicate it.
I know US has made tremendous progress. But until everyone here learns that the blood that runs in us, the basic instincts that drive us, the emotions that consume us are the same, we will not have succeeded. And until the day a person is never judged on the basis of stereotypes rooted in age, race, caste, religion, gender, sexual preference, or national origin, or other factors, but is purely judged on his character, his behavior, and his actions, one in ten times, my answer will remain a No.