Visiting beautiful ancient temples at Mamallapuram, Tamil Nadu

 There are no hard and fast rules for what I look like to people in terms of ethnicity. Often it seems to depend on context and who I am with. Although Indians in the US frequently recognize me, I remember an Indian-American girl I met once years ago who expressed shock to find out that I am half Indian. “You don’t look Indian at all to me,” she said, but I don’t really know what was up with her. 

Black Americans often see me as Black, granted there is an enormously wide spectrum of physical diversity in the community (and in my own family). However, I’ve had quite a few Black Americans not realize I’m half Black until I tell them. One of my close friends said, “I just thought you were only South Asian for the first few months I knew you .”

Based on who I am with and what I am doing, I have been taken for everything from Filipina to Ethiopian to Cuban. When I look in the mirror I guess I see an Indianized version of my African-American mother. Or I see a Trini. My face may make the most sense coming from Trinidad. 

People in Southern India seem pretty clear. Evidently, I look Indian as hell to them. Indians are quick to point out that, yup, I look like them. It doesn’t matter that I am flanked by white foreigners. They call me out every time. “You look Indian,” they say, rationalizing my inability to communicate in the local language as probably meaning that I come from another part of India. 

When one of the local guides saw me with the tourists, he joked that he thought maybe the company replaced the usual tour leader from Kerala with me. In India, I am most often seen as an Indian, no question, just a weird and pretentious one who hangs out with foreigners and acts like I can’t speak any of the languages. 

The white people I am traveling with are feeling like celebrities because Indians are constantly asking to take selfies with them. At Mysore Palace there was more than a dozen Indian people circling around them with cameras like paparazzi. One such Indian shooed me off, so as to not have me show up in the background of his cool pic with the foreigners. A different person offered to include me in their photo, apparently out of politeness but I wandered off to spare them the awkward courtesy. 

So far only one beach vendor in Goa got it right and read me spot on, “Ah. You are an American but with origins in India and Africa.” Impressive accuracy, sir.

I am frustrated by the un-Indianness of my mouth – not for how and what I like to eat, that part appears to be plenty Indian, but for how I speak. Apart from a few words and phrases I taught myself on an app I found, I have no Tamil. I hate this. I hate not knowing the language anywhere I travel but nowhere else has my desire to speak ever been stronger. 

First, I am aching to connect with people here right down to my bones. Second, my paternal tongue, Tamil, is linguistic gold. I love languages. I’ve learned a decent amount of French, passable Spanish, bits of Shona from my time in Zimbabwe and even endeavored to learn some Danish because I like going to Copenhagen. 

Tamil is a beautiful and special language. It’s one of the longest-surviving classical languages in the world with a recorded history of over 2,000 years and nearly 80 million speakers in India and Sri Lanka and the diaspora of Tamils scattered around the world. It’s a language with an understandable amount of pride and I want to learn it, damnit!

It’s not easy. Lord no. There are regional variations, colloqualisms you don’t learn on your own, and it’s not connected to any of the other language groups I have studied. I have some books and software that I have enlisted in my quest to learn Tamil. Not that I have been a terribly dedicated student, but none of it has got me very far to date. I’ve gotten some assistance from our guides on a few basic phrases. If you ever want to feel goofy and elicit laughter, try bumbling around words that your face says should be second nature. Whatever, I know I have to start somewhere. 

I’m making a promise to myself to put in more effort and discipline. It would be so satisfying to fill my mouth with melodious and rich words in Tamil. The next time I come to India, I would like to do an language immersion experience. And when I get back to NY, I’ll be on the lookout for a tutor. Please feel free to pass on any leads.