I came to the United States a year ago to get my master’s degree with a lot of expectations from the “land of the free and the home of the brave.” I am from India, and I grew up in a typical, highly orthodox (read religious) middle class Indian household. Here’s some perspective for those of you who cannot relate to what that means: think arranged marriages. Think early religious indoctrination. Think sexist household chores assignment. Think reinforcement of the gender binary.
I was one of the lucky ones. My parents, bless their hearts, encouraged me to read as much and as often as possible, irrespective of their own opinions on the many things I began to question.
My desire to move to the United States stemmed largely from my yearning to experience American culture, this mythical land where women can wear what they want and nobody would bat an eyelid. This was furthered by how America is represented in mainstream media back home: your television shows have gay couples, your news channels show debates on the trans movement and homosexuality (words that would be meaningless to most contemporary Indian families in my neighborhood) and you have a long history of legal provisions for child protection and welfare. Set this against the backdrop of the time Senator Obama launched his iconic first presidential campaign with his message of hope. I was sold.
The reality has been fulfilling at times and shocking at others. Naively, when I got off the boat, I believed that race was no longer an issue of contention in this country. I believed that homophobia was spoken of in hushed whispers, taboo and almost dead. I believed that gender expression was free from judgment. I was wide-eyed and wet behind the ears when I started working as the Graduate Student Liaison at the Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity.
My role at the Center was to communicate with LGBTQA+ student groups across the campus from the various graduate schools and enable collaboration. When I was not doing that, I was helping to organize and put together events at our Bryan Center location, talk to the numerous students who would walk through our doors and, on one memorable occasion, decorate heart-shaped cookies with as much frosting as possible in under thirty minutes.
I loved every second of it.
I was also having my pleasant ignorance chiseled away every day. I got to hear students' painful and poignant stories. I witnessed my colleagues answer hostile phone calls. I sat in training sessions and town hall forums where people would bring anecdotes and excerpts that screamed of discrimination. I comforted students after the noose incident who were threatened and vulnerable in a suddenly unsafe environment. Memorably, at the career fair, I was advised by a potential employer that I should take my work with the LGBTQ Center off my resume.
That this should happen at one of the best schools in the country is worrying. But that’s not all of it.
There is this tendency of demanding that people associated with an organization stand up and speak for a community. This happened a lot to me. I am a female graduate student in engineering, and at every turn, instead of homophobia, I was slapped in the face with ignorance. My classmates asked me to explain why trans people don't seek mental health help, why I am supporting sinners and adulterers, who the "woman" is in a gay couple (answer: they are a gay couple, Sherlock), what a smart girl like me is doing associating myself with the "gay agenda” and even what I think of Neil Patrick Harris' husband (I think he is very handsome, go Neil!).
Suddenly and without intending to, I was standing on a pedestal, feeling like I was being tested on LGBTQA+ 101 and if I performed poorly, I lost the movement a supporter. I lost friends and gained comrades. I was shocked and paralyzed by how much hate I found in places where I had taken tolerance for granted.
I have been in the United States for over a year now, and there are several things about it that have shocked me: the pervasiveness of Bible literalists, the climate change deniers, the dearth of women in STEM fields, the extent of scientific illiteracy in the common populace, the large role religion still plays in policy-making, the conspiracy theorists, Westboro Baptist Church and Donald Trump (yes, they deserve a separate mention).
But here is the truly great thing about America: the engagement to make it better. For every funeral picketer, there are dozen others who call out against disrespect to military families. For every climate change denier, there are lobbyists and environment protection agencies fighting for legal provisions toward a greener earth. For every pro-life activist, there are a dozen pro-choice workers fighting the good fight. There is space in America for every viewpoint, for every polarized opinion, and I have seen how this positive outlook leads to positive action, even if the road getting there is filled with hardship.
For someone from India, where youth apathy is the largest national threat, this level of engagement and dialogue between the state, media, universities and the general public is fascinating. I have yet to come across an American who has been simply too apathetic to care. They have always had opinions, often flawed, but loud and deep-rooted opinions about why they believed what they did. I am inspired by this level of engagement with the community.
Every day, I look at all that is bad about America and then at all that is good about America. The good trumps the bad every single time.
Nandhini Narayanan is a student in the Master’s of Engineering Management program. Her column runs on alternate Fridays.
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