I’m A Child of Immigrants in a New Land

I learned to communicate with empathy while forging new roots.

I’m the first plant of my family’s growing orchard.

I learned who I am from my parents, as they raised me with Indian values and traditions. My first language was Gujarati, quickly followed by English, in our apartment building and on Sesame Street.

I learned about myself from interactions with other kids in our building. My friends would ask me what my parents said when they spoke to me in Gujarati. Their questions were a door to important skills and would later inform my outlook on life.

As a preschooler, I loved to explore differences in turns of phrases, comparing Gujarati and English. The gaps in meanings of words and patterns often shed light on how others experienced life in our building. My preschool eyes saw that we all lived in more or less the same way.

We were small kids, and they were just as curious about me. We started school together, and they’d ask me about my beliefs, practices, and food on our walk to and from the elementary school a few blocks away.

I quickly realized that I was a translator and a cultural ambassador. I became an expert at answering questions from teachers and other adults by the time I was in high school. We’d moved to a suburb of Minneapolis by then.

I enjoyed exploring the gap between ‘foreign’ and ‘familiar’ and welcomed others’ questions as a chance to clarify and expand their view of me.

I learned to patch the gaps in others’ understanding and to create an oasis on the edge of familiarity, a space that grew as people got to know me.

I understood that I appeared different to others and learned to identify and gain skills to be a part of the group, if I wanted. I made friends and got what I needed to feel whole and anchored in my parents’ chosen new homeland, where I was born. But, I also struggled with frustrations of feeling uprooted and re-planted between expectations at home and at school.

I grudgingly translated American culture for my parents, even though they were proficient in English. I interpreted lifestyle differences for them and for my friends, hoping that understanding among peers would help me fit in. I realized that I served as a bridge of sorts and became mindful of words and their multiple meanings in different settings.

Childhood lessons gave me skills to convey my thoughts with empathy across divides.

I learned early on to be open and to invite questions so people could feel safe to ask for clarity. I became good at listening and re-stating what I think I hear, so people feel heard. Communicating with integrity and empathy has helped others to know me, understand my story, and care about what we share.

Navigating, translating, and interpreting across differences has given me a view from a place ‘in between.’ I’ll never know what it’s like to come from only one place. I have new roots here to nourish my curiosity. My communication skills help me engage and adapt as I reach for my own goals.

Like everyone, I have hopes, needs for safety, comfort, and enjoy freedom to grow. I embrace the ground where I’m planted and enjoy the view of my forest, here. Learning to communicate with empathy helps me to forge strong roots and to connect.

Empathy begins with knowing there is always a gap between what I know of myself and what others see of me. That gap is an invitation to explore the world of difference ‘in between.’