Posted on

In one of the shows I watch, a British series set in the ‘50s, there was a throwaway mention of one of the women moving with her diplomat husband to Bombay, India. At the time I just shrugged it off and only after thinking on it for a while felt some unease and resentment at associating a favored character with the Brits in India, even if it was a few years after Partition.

But what’s more, I’m beginning to realize how much American and European history from that period I’ve absorbed, how much I’m able to empathize and relate to the average everyday people and romanticize the spy and intrigue of WWII and then the Cold War while at the same time, I’m so ignorant of my own history and people.

Like, at the time this character moves to Bombay (even the name! Mumbai), a few hundred miles away, my Dad is born, his family having moved a thousand miles from India to be in what was then West Pakistan. In three years, my mother will be born in East Pakistan, where her family moved to from a completely different part of India. Before she is a teenager, her family will again relocate, to escape the increasing violence erupting across the nation. This is my parents’ history, and yet I’m so emotionally removed from it while being completely invested in fictional movies and books.

There’s no reason to think of the European heroes as sophisticated and inspiring while putting down desis as crude and savage, but I’m still trying to unlearn that.

Posted on

In one of the shows I watch, a British series set in the ‘50s, there was a throwaway mention of one of the women moving with her diplomat husband to Bombay, India. At the time I just shrugged it off and only after thinking on it for a while felt some unease and resentment at associating a favored character with the Brits in India, even if it was a few years after Partition.

But what’s more, I’m beginning to realize how much American and European history from that period I’ve absorbed, how much I’m able to empathize and relate to the average everyday people and romanticize the spy and intrigue of WWII and then the Cold War while at the same time, I’m so ignorant of my own history and people.

Like, at the time this character moves to Bombay (even the name! Mumbai), a few hundred miles away, my Dad is born, his family having moved a thousand miles from India to be in what was then West Pakistan. In three years, my mother will be born in East Pakistan, where her family moved to from a completely different part of India. Before she is a teenager, her family will again relocate, to escape the increasing violence erupting across the nation. This is my parents’ history, and yet I’m so emotionally removed from it while being completely invested in fictional movies and books.

There’s no reason to think of the European heroes as sophisticated and inspiring while putting down desis as crude and savage, but I’m still trying to unlearn that.

Posted on

Ugh, I feel so guilty about making this about me. I feel so bad for the victims, their families and friends, for the runners, for everyone near by, for the citizen of Boston who have now joined the ranks of a city under terrorist attack, with all the perpetual fear and uncertainty that it entails. The marathon, and the city and people of Boston, will never be the same. But I feel this big ball of combined grief and anxiety now. Can I walk outside? Can I cross streets? Should I wear my black scarf? Feh.

Posted on

Ugh, I feel so guilty about making this about me. I feel so bad for the victims, their families and friends, for the runners, for everyone near by, for the citizen of Boston who have now joined the ranks of a city under terrorist attack, with all the perpetual fear and uncertainty that it entails. The marathon, and the city and people of Boston, will never be the same. But I feel this big ball of combined grief and anxiety now. Can I walk outside? Can I cross streets? Should I wear my black scarf? Feh.

Posted on

Ugh, I feel so guilty about making this about me. I feel so bad for the victims, their families and friends, for the runners, for everyone near by, for the citizen of Boston who have now joined the ranks of a city under terrorist attack, with all the perpetual fear and uncertainty that it entails. The marathon, and the city and people of Boston, will never be the same. But I feel this big ball of combined grief and anxiety now. Can I walk outside? Can I cross streets? Should I wear my black scarf? Feh.

Posted on

Argh. On a two-week trip without much internet or computer time so I won’t get to participate in Sleeping Warrior Week. Or much of Femslash February.

Posted on

Argh. On a two-week trip without much internet or computer time so I won’t get to participate in Sleeping Warrior Week. Or much of Femslash February.

Posted on

I was just hit with so much bitter resentment that RIB get so much money and acclaim for this while Bryan Fuller keeps on making very great things that get nothing.

Posted on

I was just hit with so much bitter resentment that RIB get so much money and acclaim for this while Bryan Fuller keeps on making very great things that get nothing.