Half

A piece by Maya Raval

“What are you? Where are you from?” We all know what that question is referring to: race. We’ve all been asked it before, and we are all used to giving the same response. For me, that response follows this path: “I’m half Indian, half white. I’m from the West LA area.” I usually get a semi-surprised look followed by an “Oh, that explains a lot. I thought you were Latina, or maybe Middle Eastern.”

Using words like “half” or “quarter” to describe one’s race is completely off. I never feel ‘half Indian’ or ‘half White,’ but I rather feel as if I’m ‘more’ of either one of my races at certain times. Thanksgiving with my mom’s half of the family is one of those moments. I sit at the dining table looking across the table into blue eyes, and I feel out of place. I feel too brown. I gaze down at my twiddling thumbs as I contemplate my attendance at such a ‘white’ event. I feel alone, for I am unsure if my brother feels too brown too. While exploring my thoughts I realize that while my eyes may not be the bright hue of the ocean, they are still just as important, just as beautiful.

At my Bharatha Natyam (traditional Indian dance) classes, the soil-like color of my eyes is the norm and my dark hair blends in with everyone else’s. But in this case, I look down at my arms. I am so much lighter than the other dancers and I feel self-conscious. Do I even deserve to be dancing in this style even though I am not fully Indian? I ask myself these interrogational questions and immediately proceed to answer them. I am part Indian, so I fit in here. I dance because it is my passion and my culture.

I don’t believe in saying that I’m “half” of anything. I am not made up of exact measurements of certain ingredients. I am a mixture of oddly proportioned cultures, traditions, and ethnicities that when combined, create my culture, traditions, and ethnicity of being mixed.