Story and illustration by Mallika Sunder

I never realized how much representation in the media mattered until I finally saw someone of my own South Asian race on TV. Growing up, I wanted so desperately to be Indian and American at the same time. I refused to feel ashamed of my race; but, I also wanted to feel accepted as American. When I was younger, I never fully grasped that my identity struggle was a more universal experience faced by many other first generation kids in America. I felt so alone.

I longed for other Indian-American people with whom to identify. I just wanted to feel seen. Even with my Indian-American friends, I never really discussed our race and the emotions that came with it when I was young. None of us did. We had no way to describe the way we felt because we all thought that we were alone in wanting a dual identity. But, how would we know any better? The only Indian characters I knew then were Ravi from the Disney show, "Jessie" and Baljeet from "Phineas and Ferb". But these characters were unlike me or any other Indian-Americans I knew. I felt hopeless and frustrated that these were supposed to be my representation in the media.

Off the screen, I was tired of my classmates branding me as serious, foreign, and weak—sure, it was nice to be praised for my intelligence, but I wanted them to know that I was so much more than just an A plus. And honestly, they couldn’t care less if I was actually smart, as long as I stayed in my pigeonhole. If I ever got a bad grade, they would make fun of me for not being ‘Indian enough’. My fifth grade classmates were harsher critics of my academic shortcomings than my own parents. Still, I couldn’t articulate the frustration I felt about the burden of my race. I felt compelled to suppress my actual self because it was easier to play the role I was expected to play.

Now, I’m fifteen. Those classmates know not to be so public about what they think about my race. Of course, the comments have not stopped completely; but, at least I’ve learned to ignore most of them. However, over time I realized that with the stereotypes surrounding Indian-Americans, I would always be seen as a one-dimensional person: a future doctor or engineer.

That is, until I did my Indian accent. With this exaggerated, fake voice, I had a sense of humor because I played into the Indian caricature and made others feel less uncomfortable about that stereotype. But, I was conflicted. I was uncomfortable making fun of Indian people, but told myself that it was fine if I did it. I mean, I am Indian after all. Indian people are constantly ridiculed in the media, but honestly, I was just happy that we were being mentioned at all. I wasn’t happy playing into stereotypes, but at least I had some place in American culture.

It wasn’t until I watched The Patriot Act by Hassan Minaj that I was able to really relate to an Indian person on screen. Not only did the show make me feel understood and represented, but it featured an Indian person making jokes about his own race that were not designed just for a white audience. Soon, my eyes were opened to a wide array of Indian-American celebrities and people who were more than just a stereotype. These people were crafting an authentic Indian-American identity in front of my eyes. For the first time in my life, my desire to belong in both Indian and American culture was validated.

These days, many people are sharing their stories of growing up with a dual identity in America and it makes me feel incredibly proud. I know that we still have a long way to go with representing all of the different cultures in America, but at least we are moving in the right direction. So, I have decided to be whoever I want to be, whether that fits into a stereotype or not. And right now—to any conflicted first generation kid reading this—I just want to say,

I see you.