Though the Olympics ceremony may be overkill and a waste of resources, I think it’s worthwhile to appreciate the worldwide culture of the games. On screen, every competing country gets its share of the limelight. The United States and France and Australia arrive in their massive boats, crowded with athletes, but they get the same few seconds as smaller countries that are less recognized. I am not from Belize, Liechtenstein, Nauru, or Somalia (the countries sending the fewest number of athletes, just one each), but I still felt an overwhelming sense of pride watching them excitedly wave their flags. I would love to be on those boats, because at that level, and in their position, they have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I felt a more personal sense of pride watching the Indian boat float by. Noting my reaction, my father asked me wryly, “Are you Indian, or American?”

“I don’t know,” I responded.

Smiling, my dad shook his head and gently corrected me. “You’re American.”

I officially am American. It used to irritate me whenever my parents pronounced words incorrectly when it seemed so simple, or whenever they couldn’t find the words to empathize with my stresses with school or other aspects of my life. I turned away from the plates of Indian desserts my mother made for me, choosing to eat an ice cream sandwich instead. I dragged my feet into my Telugu school classroom every Sunday for four years. But when I entered high school, I realized that I had missed out. I met a friend who introduces herself with the Indian pronunciation of her name, proudly proclaiming, “this is my real name, why should I change it to make it easier for other people?” I met friends who are well-read on Indian news and Indian geography, friends who effortlessly switch to the language they speak at home. I strive to be as Indian as I can by practicing my language, cooking with my mother, and learning Telugu songs and movie dialogues by heart.

I replied to my father, “You are American too,” reminding him of how he and my mother had switched from having an Indian to an American citizenship not long ago. Sometimes their small slip-ups still irk me, but then I remember how they have begun to release their hold on their Indian origins for my sister and me. I will never become Indian enough for them to stop Americanizing themselves in ways more than changing citizenships, but I want to try.

Last modified on 2024-07-27