I'm Not Who You Think I Am

Over the course of the last year, I have found myself contemplating the implications of how I look and who I am much more frequently. Before I moved to Boston for college, I hadn’t thought too deeply about how the person I am is not necessarily what is expected of me if one were to simply see me walking down the street. I believe my childhood experiences, as with most things in life, largely contributed to my lack of awareness of how I outwardly appear.

Up until age 11, I attended a Catholic primary school that was predominantly white. Although I had friends that looked more like me (South Asian), I wasn’t very aware of these differences as I never really felt that I was treated differently. Perhaps the context of Catholic school and the fact that we all knew each other for around a decade blurred our differences.

Gants Hill Station (where I would frequently go to travel into Central London between the ages of 15 and 18)

When I transitioned to high school at 11, I attended an all girls grammar school which was predominantly South Asian in ethnicity, with prominent representation of countries such as India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka. There was also a healthy representation of students whose ethnic backgrounds originated in countries such as Nigeria, Kenya, China, and beyond. Compared to my primary school, there was a drastic reduction of white students. I still remember being confused the first few days of high school as this was a group of people I didn’t feel I had seen before. Nevertheless, I still didn’t feel ‘different’ or a part of the ‘other’.

Spending 7 years at this school before I left for college really informed my understanding of London as I realized many of my peers were, like me, second generation immigrants. Being a selective grammar school, we worked hard and could find shared ground in the experiences of our parents who had pretty much worked their whole lives to be able to set us up for success. To this day, talking about my parents and their struggles is still something I find difficult to do without tearing up because I do attribute all of my fortune with their sacrifices (but let’s save that for another time).

As I headed off to college, starry-eyed and thrilled to be at the school of my dreams, I didn’t expect to be thrown into a world where it felt like I was already cast a part that didn’t quite fit. I am still unsure as to whether this experience is a product of America’s differing attitudes to race, ethnicity, and stereotypes, or if it is a product of my own growth and understanding of how these delicate subjects inform one’s own outlook. I like to think that it is a careful mix of the two, and that my enrollment in classes where I read some of the most important texts I have ever encountered (Aimé Césaire's ‘Discourse on Colonialism’) aided my understanding of self.

As I realized how friendship groups at Harvard were, at least upon sight, often framed around race, ethnicity, socio-economic status, and other tangible differences, I realized more and more that I didn’t feel like I fit in these groups. Having attended some South Asian Association events early my Freshman Year, I didn’t feel that my own experiences as a British-born Sri Lankan were necessarily the same as my American counterparts. Attending first-gen events was also tricky, as I realized the American first-gen experience has nuanced differences to the British first-gen experience that I simply couldn’t relate to. None of this is to say these groups aren’t amazing! They simply helped me realize how complex identity is and how, although I may look similar to the people who do find shared ground in these groups, I don’t innately relate.

I realized the way I dress, the way I speak, the music I like, and my creative tendencies weren’t necessarily expected of me as a South Asian woman. To this day, I fear being labelled as ‘white-washed’, but … I’m not. I am British. When I walk around London, I feel at home and at ease in who I am. I see other second-generation immigrants who speak like me, look like me, and appreciate the same things I do. I speak to my parents in English, as this was my first language. I am way more confident in my French and Chinese speaking abilities than I am in my Sinhalese ability. These are simply the truths of my existence.

As I enter my senior year of college, my two closest confidants are vastly different: a white-passing, second-generation Mexican from Brooklyn, and a Dutch-Afghan Sikh who’s based in a suburb of West London. Despite our differences, my soul feels like it overflows at the brim when I am with these two friends and we are able to connect emotionally in a way I cannot with people who might look more like I do. These are the members of my soul tribe.

I guess, in my convoluted way, this is my way of rationalising who I am today and where I’m at with my identity. There is so much more to discuss; how I feel as a woman of colour and how that has affected the things I have attempted to do (working in entertainment, leading an activist campaign). How after reading the ‘Discourse on Colonialism’ I have wondered if I am the perfectly colonized being. How I can’t deny that Sri Lanka, although warm and welcoming, is not my home and doesn’t play as significant a role in my life as it does for my parents, and more. I hope to dive into these topics as I continue to discuss race, ethnicity, and heritage on this platform.

Thank you for reading, and let me know what you think below :)