If you’re even a remotely frequent visitor to my journal, you’d have realised by now that I am perennially pissed about a lot of things. One of these that is always on the back of my mind—something that makes me feel almost sorry for myself—is the fact that I’m going to have to make it in this country (should I choose to) as a first generation immigrant. I’ve probably harped about this before, but this is not a trivial process, and is an unfair burden that no future generation will have to worry about.
A term which I hadn’t heard in over two years—primarily because I don’t usually associate myself with people who use it—‘ABCDE’ cropped up recently in pleasant conversation. For those not in the know, this expands (I presume) to American Born Confused DEsi—desi being the generic term encompassing people of south-Asian origin. It refers in particular to the “unfortunate” second generation immigrant kids who’re supposedly “confused” because they’re born into and live in one culture, but the environment and values emphasised at home are remnants of a different society far, far away.
You know what? shut the fuck up.
They aren’t “confused.” They’re American and you know it. They’re culturally acclimatised since birth, mesh well into society, have no awkward accents (apart from being unable to pronounce their own names)—they’re socially, culturally and emotionally conditioned to “just fit.” Don’t feel sorry for them. They have the easy life, with their now-rich doctor parents and their consequent BMWs and super-hot blonde fiancés. What the fuck is there to be confused about?
Really, can’t the god-damned moniker ‘ABCDE’ just die already?
Instead, feel sorry for the genuinely troubled and confused first generation folk. They’re the ones who are really torn between two worlds. They’re the ones who’ll never really integrate themselves into society (if they tried to, I mean). They’re the ones who have to work extra-hard to ensure a fabulous life for their kids.
One that they can’t even hope to have.