Blame it on Radha
February 10, 2013
My grandmother explained that the English on my tongue, blue jeans, and refusal to oil my hair was an unhealthy distraction for the neighborhood gents.
My grandmother explained that the English on my tongue, blue jeans, and refusal to oil my hair was an unhealthy distraction for the neighborhood gents.
My father’s lack of English skills was embarrassing. My mother’s kitchen made my nerves twitch. And up until recently I didn’t give much of a hoot about their struggles.
Men become unfortunate light bulbs around which angry flies incessantly buzz, making life a cricket match with mom as the bat and wife as the wicket.
The beauty and brains persona we’re famous for is an inherited position. Desi girls are not a race whose lineage is of oppression and mediocrity.
It’s no secret one of the first things to do when you have a new love interest is go home and Google or Facebook him.
If you haven’t been watching, prepare to be shocked. But think of it as a party. If you don’t go you’re missing out on a world of fun.
If no doesn’t mean no, we can get into a lot of trouble. We show that the word has zero power.
I have found myself saying “How would you feel if some girl whistled at you on the street or grabbed your…” The resulting cheeky smiles are where most of those conversations end.
If we’re all living in our individual sex cocoons, where do we get our information from? Are we all just literally and figuratively, reaching in the dark?
Would the choices I made, in terms of how I wanted to live my life, distance me from my Big Fat Indian family?
So if you like a guy, and you want him to know it, you ignore him. Something about that seems counter-intuitive, doesn’t it?
Dating is hard. Dating in South Asian culture is even harder. As a single Indian girl in her mid 20’s, I’ve reached the inevitable stage where most of my friends are getting engaged, married, or are already in serious relationships.