being colored and shit

i first realized that i wasn't white in chicago. most of my life, i expected that i would look like Belle or the Pink Power Ranger when I grew up. Princess Jasmine was darker than I would ever be and the Yellow Ranger was just so... yellow. I read the Samantha series of American Girl because she had brown hair, like me. What I didn't realize was that only one of my grandparents would have been able to eat with Samantha at a restaurant.

Growing up in racially ambiguous Hawaii made me think that because I wasn't pure Chinese or pure Indian, I was automatically white. It wasn't until July 4th 2007 at Chicago's Sadle Country Club that I realized that I was the only non-white celebrating instead of working. I realized that I wasn't white. When I saw a Chinese woman I felt freakishly connected to her, like we were part of this secret society that everybody else, with their blond highlights and j crew sweaters, didn't even know about.

It's funny, then, that I arrived in Delhi last night after spending an unexpected layover in downtown Chi going to the Contemporary Museaum with my Aunt and Uncle and sipping hot chocolate with Gracie at Giradelli's.

So I left the heart of America for the heart of my unknown ancestors. Corny, yes, but true. While I've matured in western society on an island chain where 5 generations of my mother's family have lived and died, India, the place where my father was born and partially raised, has always remained shrouded in mystery (or was that pollution?).

I've read that it's foolish for anyone to expect to know India. The land is far too expansive and diverse to be understood by any one mind. But maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll come to know something else over the next 5 months, the missing piece of my family puzzle.