On one side of the border, in Afghanistan, the Taliban have taken over on the other side, India continues to be plagued by casteism and violence against women.Īs I watch the world around me change at a frightening pace, I worry about how my complicated culture will be imprinted on to my young daughter. The country of my elders has also faced horrific cases of femicide in recent times. It’s tricky because there are some aspects of it I find problematic as a woman, such as honour-based ideals that place the onus of modesty on us, societal pressures that prioritise domesticity over personal career goals, and almost-comical cliches that make me feel insufficient for being unable to make a perfectly round roti. To me, Dubai is home.Īnd then along came motherhood, leading me to question how I would pass down elements of my culture – or rather, my grandparents’ culture – to my child. Rather, I’m your typical "third-culture kid" who pauses when asked: “Where are you from?” I don’t fully identify with my American nationality, my Canadian education or my time living in London. I’m surrounded by friends who speak Urdu to their children, feed them kheer and tailor-make shalwar kameezes for them to wear on Eid – yet for me, these expressions of cultural pride don’t come innately. I certainly didn’t expect any help from the farfetched plots and floral fields of Bollywood I worry about how my complicated culture will be imprinted on to my young daughter.
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