Let Me Straighten You Out a Bit

Here’s the thing that you may or may not have realized while reading my blogs, I’m brown. There I said it. I’m brown. Never mind that I’ve mentioned it many, many times before but it needs to be said over and over again (apparently) not because I’m trying to box myself in or even categorize me, but rather in a way to explain that due to the color of my skin (which was not something I controlled anyhow) my life experiences are vastly different, yet I’m not all that dissimilar from anyone else. But damn near every day, as I strive to prove I’m ‘the same’, others want to ram it home that I am not. Read that as “do not belong”.

Nowhere is this more evident or pointed out the most than online. Due to a simple picture of myself on a profile, I am instantly and swiftly judged as a few things in quick succession.

They are as follows:

-Submissive or subservient
-Un-hip or Uncool
-Backwards
-Oppressed (aka Muslim female)
-Stupid
-Boring
-Prude
-Mysterious

Let me gleefully burst some bubbles here, kiddies.

I’m none of these things. Not a damn one. Let’s start from the top and work our way down because, why not!

Submissive or subservient? Take your pick of either or both words for folks seem to think they are one and the same even though these two words can mean vastly different things. Ask just about anyone in my world who has faced me for any length of time and they will confirm, or cringe, or laugh, at the use of these words in connection to me. Granted their opinion will also be determinate upon what roles they play in my world. After all, I can be submissive, but under the right circumstances *wink wink*. As an alpha-female, neither of these terms apply to me, and for the most part, no to most of my friends either. I guess like attracts like.

Unhip or uncool? Frankly, I don’t particularly care about these. To some I’m about as standard (maybe ‘basic’) as they come while to others they see the flare, the interesting in my person and dress that denotes someone far from unhip, whatever the fuck that means anyhow. As for uncool? Shoot, you’ve never met a cooler person than me unless you’ve met Prince in which case, Prince.

Backwards? I step with the time. While I may resist doing something that the nation is over-the-moon about (e.g. Game of Thrones), in things other than TV or popular consumer goods, my ideologies are far from backwards. Equal right for all is not just a bumper sticker or passing ideology to me, it’s something that I will march for and believe in to the bottom of my core. Every moment that slips past, we need to learn to adjust to it for every moment also reveals new realities. If we cannot embrace these changes, we are doomed to be stuck forever. No thanks.

Oppressed? Ok, I’ve written about this before, I’ll write it now, and I’ll probably have a go of it in the future but there are things worth repeating. Just because I’m Muslim hardly means that all Muslim women are oppressed, least of all me. I don’t wear the Hijab, but my mother does and trust me, if you meet her, you’d look at me in total confusion because she is one badass matriarch. My dad, god bless him, has tried (joking but not) to tell her what to do, which has never gone over well, never ever. She won’t bend to someone else’s arbitrary dictates or limitations. Bravo to her too. Incidentally and if you were wondering, my dad isn’t a fan of the Hijab, my mother still wears one. So, put two and two together. Oh, let me just add as well, this is not rare to my family. This is across the board common among the other Muslim families I’ve known all my life and have met throughout that same life. You white women really need to stop telling us brown women that we’re oppressed. Move it along and maybe look into your own homes to see the ways you yourself is being oppressed, IJS.

Stupid? Usually connected with theism. Being a theist hardly means I’m stupid. Do I subscribe to what people have often snarled as “a mythical winged creature in the sky”? Yes, yes, I have. Do I believe there has been evidentiary or scientific proof? No, no, there isn’t…yet. So then how do I still believe when I tend to be a logical, evidence-driven person? This answer too is rather simple: it’s my own fucking business. I’m not putting my ideologies on you, don’t put yours on me. The moment I start to lecture or even come close to converting you to Islam, please tell me to go pound some sand. I’ll deserve it. Until then though, leave me the hell alone. I’ll believe as I wish, despite what you think or your opinion of me. My intelligence, just so you know, isn’t limited to what I see but also sense and while one could be a fantasy, and the other factual, neither is random in my universe. There is logic behind it all, a process that I personally go through to validate findings. That far from makes me anything close to brainless. If you still believe so, then maybe you need to plaster yourself with that particular label, eh?

Boring? I have my moments. They are vast, often encompassing the sofa and a remote control. #Noregrets. However, to say that I am boring as a person is giggle-inducing. Okay, granted I’d much rather sit at a coffee house working on writing something or having philosophical discussions regarding a plethora of topics with like-minded folks over going to a club/bar to get drunk or maybe even bungee jumping, but it hardly means I’m boring. Rather I have interests that differ from others and they are not all Indian-centric, thank you very much. My brownness doesn’t dictate to me a total lack of an adventurous spirit or exclusivity to my own community. Heck no! In all honesty, I don’t spend all that much time with the fambam anymore although at one time I had; I prefer to learn more about other cultures and traditions than only focus on the one I already am well-versed in, specifically, mine. I’m always down to try something new, once. Anyone wanna try some Rumba classes? Anyone?

Prude? This one actually makes little to no sense because I am half Indian, after all. India, the very land of the Kama Sutra. Let’s pause and think about that for a sec, now shall we? Sure, we Indian’s seem like we don’t have a sexual bone in our bodies when we’re out and about with all our buttoned up-ness and covered-selves but do you have any idea the populace that resides within the boundaries of these countries that are inhabited by people of the same shades as me? Yea look that number up and then get back to me. Those kids aren’t being born by immaculate conception, I’ll tell you that much. There’s some fuckin’ going on, foh sho. Because I prefer to keep my private life, private and not wear sexuality on my sleeve is because, yet again, I have chosen to do so, not because it’s been told to me (in a way it has but I ignore them anyhow) or that I shy away from it. When I decide to flip that switch, no doubt it’s flipped and no excuses are made.

Mysterious? Sigh. According to some, I clearly have Bollywood danced off some mystical mountain top surrounded by a cloud of incense with Henna adoring every peepable spot of my bod while at the same time wearing layers of gauzy material with my coal-lined cat-eyes and long flowing black hair that blows in the wind.  What the actual fuck? This one probably annoys me the most. I get that I’m not the norm, that I look different, that I’m a bit unusual in the light vs dark department since I hover somewhere in-between but that’s where it ends. And if you haven’t been paying attention, the point to blogging has been to bridge some gaps in assumptions. While I grew up in different environments, had vastly different experiences, ate different foods, spoke different languages (yes, and I mean multiples) as well as dressed differently once in a while, that didn’t (and doesn’t) mean I didn’t (and don’t) have the same feelings and emotions as everyone else. In fact, I’d say that no matter where you come from or who you are, we tend to react to things in similar manners, such as loss, love, etc. We are humans, when everything is said and done. I am as standard as anyone else in this respect. I don’t want to be fringed because I’m looked upon as dissimilar, I want to be accepted, I am not an island.

Now that I’ve clarified things, I feel better.