minhdtk
Well-known member
Growing up in Singapore, my life has been a colourful tapestry of diverse cultures and languages.
My journey has been one of self-discovery, introspection, and a profound appreciation for racial harmony.
From enjoying various cuisines at hawker centres to celebrating festive occasions with friends of different ethnic and religious groups, I am thankful for living in a diverse country that celebrates multiculturalism.
But for those with complex ancestry like me, who find ourselves at the intersection of different cultures, it is often the case that we have to grapple with the complex concept of identity.
You see, my forefathers came from diverse backgrounds, including of Eurasian, Indian, and Peranakan origins.
My grandparents and great-grandparents lived in a typical Singaporean kampung and spoke Malay.
On the other hand, my maternal grandfather hailed from Pondicherry and was a Malayalee who spoke English, Malayalam, and Tamil. When he came to Singapore in the 1930s, he married my grandmother and picked up Malay conversationally.
And so, while English became the sole language spoken at home by my entire family, I studied Malay in school, despite it being customary for most Indian students to learn Tamil in Singapore.
Let me just say that I deeply appreciate how harmony between different races has been such an integral part of my family history and my own life.
With my mixed heritage, I take immense pride in my identity as an Indian girl.
Nevertheless, despite Singapore being multicultural, some people have found my background confusing.
Although my South Asian roots primarily trace back to Tamil origins, like I said earlier, I do not speak the language.
When I was younger, this caused an identity crisis for me. Unlike my friends who learned and spoke their mother tongues, and were thus able to connect with their culture through language, I couldn’t do the same.
Language was just one aspect that contributed to my sense of being different. As Catholics, my family celebrates Easter and Christmas, and we do not observe Hindu festivals like Holi or Deepavali.
I have been ridiculed for both my unfamiliarity with popular Bollywood music and films and my limited tolerance for spicy food.
Over time, I became aware of some unfair judgements that people have made about my cultural background.
It troubled me greatly that my inability to speak Tamil or follow certain practices painted me as a “fake Indian”, and true enough, others have called me that before.
I was deeply distressed by the thought of not holding up to the image that many people have about Indians.