Cutting Ties Sunday, Dec 21 2008

My parents try their best to be family oriented. We were the first ones from both of their sides to come to Canada, and the first to immigrate to North America. We pretty much set the stage for several family members and their families who have moved here. Two of my parent’s siblings who moved here were assisted by us during their first months in Canada. Both of those families treated us badly and have bad-mouthed us to relatives “back home”. These families have settled in the same city as us, which makes it awkward at times, especially since family members abroad don’t know how much we don’t associate with each other. Despite all that these family members have done (and there is a lot) my parents continue to leave the door slightly ajar to them. I do not understand this. I understand the value of family, or affinity and loyalty. But I also believe in the privilege of family, the privilege of support and the privilege of having someone always there to help you. I certainly believe that a family member can lose this privilege and in my opinion, these members should.

I think that my parents believe that by leaving the door slightly open that they are teaching my sister and I the value of family loyalty. But really all it teaches me is to guard myself. What is the point of putting myself out there if I can get hurt so badly? There are those I trust, but why should I give the time of day to assholes who have shown their stripes? In many ways I feel that my parents are foolish and deserve to be kicked again for allowing any contact with these family members. This happens time and time again even though my mother keeps saying that she won’t put up with any crap this time. Right…and then she gets hurt again. It makes me angry. I don’t care if they are blood. I want to cut them off.

Christmas is coming up and of course comes the dilemma about who should be invited over. One of the downsides of living with my parents is that if they choose to invite these family members that I despise so much, I have to be there when they come over. I secretly want to throw eggs and them and tell them to never come back, but I have to hide my anger behind a smile and polite “hello uncle and aunty” talk. I know many people use Christmas as a time to forgive, but forgiveness doesn’t have to include a memory relapse. They are horrible people! Why do my parents keep inviting them back into our lives? Forgive and cut them loose.

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Adapting To Mom Wednesday, Sep 17 2008

I’m starting to get used to living at home, although that doesn’t make it easy. I try to give my parents their space and keep a certain amount of physical distance in order to keep my sanity. For the past five years of post-secondary education I have lived away from home and have learned to live a somewhat independent life. I discovered how I liked to run my life and the way I liked to organize things. Moving back home definitely wasn’t easy since I was expected to do things the same way my parents did them.

Last night I went to talk to my mom since earlier she was a little pissed that I hadn’t done the dishes. I told her that we need to make a house schedule so I know what exactly is expected of me within a time frame – that’s how I function efficiently. My mother countered my suggestion by telling me that everyone should do things when they see that things need to be done – clearly, that’s what works for her. She then shot down my suggestion that we should come to a happy medium. I don’t know why she still thinks that everyone should function they way she does, especially after 25 years of it never working. My dad is not like her at all for organization. I think he’s more like me since he works better with a time frame. And yet, rather than recognizing that other people have different needs, she nags people in hopes they will conform to her ideal living situation. WTF? After 25 years, why can’t she learn?

So I’ve decided to do my own things and make my own schedule. I’m hoping that physical distance will limit my exposure to nagging.

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Quarreling With Parents Monday, Sep 1 2008

I had a pretty intense argument with my parents a couple of nights ago. It all started with my dad telling us about an incident of discrimination that he faced in the airport by an immigration officer – not surprising since brown men are still seen as questionable terrorists but still very inappropriate and uncalled for. Anyway, I paralleled that story to our outing earlier that day at our bank. We were all going for our separate banking affairs but we arrived together. I went first – told the clerk (I don’t know what his job title is) that I needed to open up a savings account and he put my name on a list and told me to sit in the waiting area until a representative could meet with me. That was fine, but after I went to sit down he took my parents’ names and then asked if we were all together. They said yes and he said that he will get one representative for all of us. Then when we were waiting he came by twice to let us know that we would be helped shortly. The problem was that he only looked and talking to my father the entire time and disregarded my mother’s, my sister’s and my presence.

I brought up this story to illustrate a parallel of discrimination. My father was presumed to be a problem because of his skin colour and the perception of him as an immigrant, unwanted, and Other person. I was discriminated because of my perceived age (I look much younger than I really am) and my gender. Because my father was there he was of course regarded by this man (the service clerk) to be in charge and the only person worthy of being attended to. It did not matter than I had approached the clerk individually, placed my name on a waiting list, and was told to wait for my turn. No, my father was asked if I was part of his party. What right did the clerk have to do that? I am a separate customer and deserve to be attended to as an individual regardless of my perceived age, my gender, or my relation to any other person.

My parents did not see my point of view on this situation. They in fact were furious with my analysis and my “ego” that accompanied it. According to them, this man was doing his job and was respectful because he respected the role of the father. They did not see this situation as discriminatory towards me as a young person and a woman. They saw it as justified and acceptable because their status of privilege was acknowledged – both my parents for their age and my father for his gender. They took my opinion on the situation very personally and used it as another opportunity to bash me about how I do not respect my parents, unlike this man who showed respect for my father’s position. They then went on about how they should have never come to Canada because we (my sister and I) were out of hand and did not respect the sacrifices they made in coming here.

This is when I lost it. I hate emotional blackmail, and it was really hurtful that it came from my parents because I’ve seen how they have been the victims of emotional blackmail from other family members. How could they use that same tactic on me when they know what it feels like to be manipulated like that? I told them I wouldn’t fall for their emotional blackmail; that I do respect them and that many of my life decisions reflect my upbringing. It’s hard going against the norm but my sister have done it many times, but we have also adapted to our surroundings. We are not going to be like the way my parents were at my age. This is not India during the 60s/70s. Even people my age in India aren’t like how their parents were, and in many ways they are more Westernized than I am.

My parents have avoided talking to me for the past two days. Sadly this argument happened on my sister’s birthday and we had to have the cake-cutting the next day while my parents were semi sulky. They can be very immature and I’m not sure how to deal with them. I am not apologetic of who I am, the views I have or the experiences I have had that have led me to be this way. I will not feel guilty about myself because others do not agree with my views, my lifestyle choices, or anything else about me. And as much as it hurts me that my parents are not proud of who I am, I refuse to revert back to my self-hate days. Rather I want to continue to embrace myself and hope that someday they will be able to understand who I am and be proud of me.

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Engagement Approval Tuesday, May 27 2008

As I mentioned previously, I’m going to India with my family next week. I’m looking forward to it despite the reservations I have. I’m not sure how my family members will react to my engagement, especially since my fiance is of Taiwanese descent. My immediate family already knows I’m engaged and some have seen pictures on FB of the two of us. I’m pretty sure word has spread that he’s not Indian…or White. It’s usually assumed that if Indians marry out that it will be to a White person. But anyway, I have no idea what to expect their reactions to be. First, I don’t really understand the humour of my family’s culture. I just never grew up with it and I don’t know the context of it. I’m hoping that I will be less judgmental and more forgiving towards things that I would otherwise take offensively. The last thing I want is another one of my debates with my “liberal” ideas.

Second, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to care of their approval or disapproval. As far as I’m concerned it’s none of their business, but should I be thankful if they do give their approval? I’m not sure. Neither myself or my fiance asked for our parents approval or blessing towards our engagement. Was that wrong of us? I’d like to think it was our decision but should we care for our parents and families’ blessings?

It’s tough growing up with a different culture than your parents. For the both of us we are discovering our parents and their cultures through their reactions towards our decisions. Sometimes it is really frustrating because of the lack of communication. It’s not necessarily one side’s fault because culture and values are usually taken for granted and regarded as common sense. But it definitely causes aggravation and hurt feelings – something I would rather avoid. I’m not one to go out of my way to hurt people, although for the most part I can’t help it.

I wonder if Canadians with non-immigrant parents go through the same thing. Do they also learn about their parent’s culture through their actions? Is this also a generational thing and not just an immigrant family experience? If it is then I guess I would feel more normal…although this type of normal isn’t necessarily what I would want to be my normal.

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Speaking Kannada Monday, May 12 2008

I’m going to India next month with my family. It will be ten years since the last time I went for a visit and I’m sure much has changed. This time I will actually have an appreciation for the visit. I was a teenager the last time I was there and I was still going through my denial stage. I saw myself as completely Canadian and didn’t recognize the importance of my ethnic, linguistic and ancestral background. I’m quite excited to visit this time because I truly want to go.

I am disappointed though that I still cannot speak Kannada. I understand simple conversation but I cannot articulate myself. The limited words and phrases that I do know also comes out with an unappealing Western accept that just makes me never want to try. I’m sure I will still get lectured by some of my older relatives for not understanding. At least I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I will have to be the translator for my younger sister. She knows more Japanese, French, and Korean than Kannada, but who can really blame her or myself. Other than my parents, we didn’t know anyone else that spoke Kannada.

That’s why I really envy my fiance. His family is Taiwanese and they speak Mandarin to each other. Although he has told me that as he gets older he keeps forgetting more and more Mandarin, he has the opportunity to prevent that. The Mandarin-speaking population in Southern Ontario is far greater than the Kannada-speaking population, and if we have children, they will be able to attend a Mandarin church or Mandarin school. But as far as Kannada goes all they would have is my parents, and judging from the outcome of myself and my sister, that doesn’t give me much hope. I really wish I could learn more Kannada, but I just don’t see it as being feasible.

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