Growing up in a largely patriarchal society, I knew just when to shut up. I knew when to ingratiate, who to impress, how to accept “well-meaning” advice, how to smile through thinly veiled insults, laugh at inappropriate jokes, grin and bear the sanctimony of others, and how never ever to show my true self to anyone except my close family and friends. Why? Because shrinking to fit expectations was the norm. Good girls behaved a certain way, and I so desperately wanted to be a good girl and fit in.
Now and again, a certain rebelliousness would possess me, and quite without meaning to, I would react in an unwholesome manner, a manner that did not befit a young lady from a certain class of society who was ordinarily so good at toeing the line. These aberrations were hastily covered up or apologised for, and all was well again. Strangely, while my conscious self knew that to survive and thrive in my environs, I needed to conform, there was another, deeply hidden part inside of me, a subliminal side, that was starting to chafe against these strictures.
Still, while in my early twenties, I had neither the exposure nor the confidence to speak up and challenge the status quo.
When I moved from India to the United Kingdom, a fresh challenge confronted me. Here, I was an immigrant. A minority who needed once again to shrink and adapt and never raise my head above the parapet. Why? Because it was someone else’s land and someone else’s rules. While all the previous strictures had fallen away, the ones I faced now were more difficult to define or pin down. I was brown, therefore I had to find my place amongst other brown/black people. I’d grown up in India, therefore my accent “othered” me straight away. I did a job that was out of the ordinary for most Asians, and therefore had to reinforce my “good girl” credentials by being even more wholesome, approachable, and down-to-earth.
I really had no idea who I was anymore.
Marriage, babies, moving home, establishing myself in my career took the better part of the next two decades. Slowly, I started to discover myself, to find out what I liked and didn’t like, how much I’d put up with and just where my tolerance would end. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t a linear process. Messy and uncomfortable at times, painful at others, layers of self-applied masks were being peeled away year after year, leaving me raw and exposed. But it felt good. It felt like the real me was finally emerging after years of hibernating, of lying in wait for the perfect moment to show the world that I no longer cared for its boundaries or its pigeon-holes.
But now I wonder if I’ve gone too far?
Suddenly, I’m not sure I like this new me. This me who is combative and a tad too feisty. This me who bristles and snaps back at the slightest provocation; takes umbrage over perceived slights, expects (even demands) respect in every aspect of life. Who is this person who lives in a perpetual state of annoyance at the inequities and inequalities of the world? Who is this person who takes every contrary statement as a personal affront?
Do I even like this woman?
I recognise that years of suppression, of pent-up frustration, have finally erupted in this lava-like anger against anyone who thinks they can patronise, belittle, disrespect, overlook, or discriminate against me. Years of letting things go have morphed into not letting anything pass without objecting or protesting. I stand my ground now, everywhere and every time. And yes, it satisfies and fulfils me on multiple levels. But does it make me happy? Not always.
So, a balance needs to be achieved. I shrunk for years, and I have expanded in the last decade or so. Neither was without its benefits or pitfalls. Yet, here I am, examining who I am once again.
I want to be someone my daughters can look up to. I want to be a peer that my contemporaries respect and like, and don’t walk on eggshells around. I want to be the sort of person I’d like to be friends with.
There will be occasions I’ll need to shrink to allow for peace, when a skirmish will be just that and not worth the effort. There will be times I will need to expand to fight my corner because it’s not just about me, but also who and what I represent. Those moments will be worth going to battle for.
I am a work in progress. We are all works in progress. And if we’re willing to learn, then life is the greatest teacher of all. That much I do know. What I also know is that above all else, I want to grow into a person who I can live with. I want to go to bed with a clear conscience and wake up feeling positive about the day ahead.
Now, that is a goal worth striving for.
