Model Minority, Second Class Citizen

It is interesting being one of a community that is seen as a model minority group, when I myself see that I don’t exemplify that role, and neither do my friends, family, cousins, or really most South Asians I know. What’s even more interesting than that is the fact that this “model minority” role is only present for South Asian Americans. As I will explain later, crossing the border into our northern neighbor Canada will showcase a stereotype much different than the “model minority.” The same goes for many of the other Commonwealth countries and areas with large South Asian population.

Why does “model minority of America” only exist in…well…America? Why must we as the children of immigrants fit the stereotype that we “are?” Why must the only facet and avenue we can succeed in be in medical, legal, or technological ways? Doctor, lawyer, engineer? For all my life I’ve been told by the outside world of America what I need to be and not what I want. I don’t think that people in America realize that back home in the South Asian motherland of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri Lanka, the Maldives, Afghanistan, or wherever you’re from back home, you could be literally anyone you wanted to be. Not everyones a geeky nerd like that clown on Big Bang Theory. None of us speak with a constant bobble head and our hand moving like a snake being charmed. We don’t all do well in the spelling bee and our chains are long, gold, and intimidating, not made up of nucleotides and hydrogen bonds. We’ve got gangsters in Kolkata, models in Kathmandu, politicians in Colombo, and world class chefs in Karachi. My Malayali best friend is going to be a painter, I have Punjabi friends in jail, and my Bangladeshi friend AZ’s making lots of money from his streetwear company (although how can you have streetwear in LA. They drive there. What???). I want to be in politics. My sister wants to be a government official working with public policy. I’m a musician. I produce all the instrumentals for my Marathi homies’ hip hop group Nubian Dynasty and my Assamese friend Yuvraj a.k.a. Kushmir. Yeah, I find math easy but I’ve also been in trouble with the police. Science is natural for me to understand but biology just doesn’t click. I’ve messed up in ways that the stereotype doesn’t fit and I’m proud of that to the fullest extent because I’m not what “the Great Satan” wants me to be (shoutout to Iran for the ill nickname, you’re South Asia’s Armani-and-Islam-addicted brother to the left).

However, why do people I’ve known all my life seem surprised when I talk about my endless love for hip hop? I should be listening to Coldplay and peepin’ the fresh TI-84 game, right? Why must I suck at basketball and drive real cautious and speak with the eloquence of Audrey Hepburn at the end of My Fair Lady (you know I know my black and whites, son). But nah, I prefer Brampton, Ontario’s hip hop scene over Williamsburg, Brooklyn’s cookie cutter alternative concerts. I don’t speak “stick-up-the-a**” straight Hindi with my friends. I speak in a mix of English, Hindi, Punjabi, Marathi, and Telugu when I’m messing around with the homies. Very few people I know speak in straight Hindi or straight Gujarati or straight Malayalam when around their friends.

It is interesting as South Asians tend to be seen as a liability in other countries. In places like Canada, the UK, Australia, and New Zealand, we’re viewed as short tempered, drug-abusing, angry, violent gang members. Africa sees us as job and property-stealing inferiors. South and Latin America sees us as laborers, and the same stereotype is present in the Middle East. We’re viewed as terrorists in France and intellectually subordinate in Germany. But why is it that those who came to America ended up with the long end of the stick? Some say we came at the right time economically and politically, some say its attributed to what specific Indian states make up the majority population here (Maharashtra, Bihar, Punjab, or Bihar, we’re all different), but overall, it’s unknown why.

Maybe I would have liked to be Indian in another country. Sometimes I look at the lives of regular citizens in other countries and the benefits of those countries. But then I realize how fortunate I am to be a different citizen in a country where my people are looked at with pride. Maybe I need to get with the stereotype and realize that labels can be good, even if wrong. Whatever it is, I’m glad to be who I am in the United States that I love, and I would rather be docile and nerdy in America than violent and lazy in wherever my people go.