Who are we all, really?

Thru’ the Looking Glass

When I first came to India, I couldn't tell the difference between a Hindu and a Muslim. It didn't matter to me, either. I'm one of the growing 30% of Australians that don't have a religion. This is shocking and unfathomable to people whose religion forms the main part of their identity. How do I find meaning and answers in life without religion? Don't I need something to believe in and belong to?

It's not that I don't have beliefs. I do. It's just that they aren't from any one faith. My parents aren't religious, and they gave me the option to choose. I never understood how only one religion could be right, to the exclusion of all others, though. Surely, they're all paths to the same thing. So, I decided to independently find my own way. In general, Australians aren't anti-religion. Rather, they're indifferent to it, in the way they're indifferent to social status. To me, people are people. I care much more about how someone behaves than what they believe in, who they are, or what they have.

Not surprisingly, I've found it confronting to live in a distinctly hierarchical society in India, where the identity and self-worth of individuals are tied to things I don't value. It started innocuously enough, when an Indian guy introduced himself to me as an "MBA". After this proved not to be an isolated incident, rather than be awed by such credentials, I was dismayed by such pomposity. It became more troubling after I married an Indian (who, incidentally, was not an MBA). This conflicted with the elevated position I'd unduly been assigned in the social structure, according to my "aspirational" skin colour. He must be your guide. No? Well, you can't possibly be compatible because he doesn't have a prestigious job and comes from an undeveloped state. And, why aren't you in Bollywood?

The reality is that my racial identity has little relevance to my personal identity. I come from rural Australia, my grandparents were farmers, and my dad was an electrician before he retired. I'm a "simple country girl" at heart and have no interest in the spotlight. It's not that I haven't had opportunities. However, my maid has more integrity than many people with fame, name and status here.

As for my maid, she's amazed to see someone of my "status" competently helping with the housework. Well, why wouldn't I? We do it ourselves in the West, including washing dishes and cleaning toilets. It's integral to being capable and self-sufficient, which is actually part of how I derive self-worth (I'm also proud of my ability to milk a cow!). Yet, because I'm white, those tasks are considered to be below me here. It feels very odd to be judged by my race in a way that's so incongruous with how I am personally, and how I ordinarily live my life.

While I expect certain assumptions based solely on my white skin, it troubles me just how wrong they are and why the preconceptions exist in the first place. It has made me quite paranoid and self-conscious, but more importantly has made me aware of the importance of diversity and integration. The more I interact with different people, the greater my understanding and acceptance of other cultures. The more open-minded and knowledgeable I become, the more blurred and fluid is my identity though. I often wear Indian clothes, speak in Hindi, celebrate Hindu festivals, and eat spicy food with my hand. It feels like I'm too much of a mishmash to really fit in anywhere in the world now. Such disconnect used to concern me, as I oscillated between countries and cultures. However, witnessing the ways that religion and other dividers have horrifically turned humans against each other, I'm happy to remain an enigma. Sometimes, it's better not to belong, and to view everyone as equal without labels.