Many of my earliest childhood memories consist of singing along to various Bollywood songs with my family at the top of my lungs. I would mispronounce the lyrics and glare at anyone who dared to correct me. 

To this day songs, such as “Sheila Ki Jawani” from Tees Maar Khanand “Radha” from Student of the Year,  remain my most listened to songs. 

Though, this hasn’t always been the case.

As a child I had a bursting sense of pride in my culture. I spoke Gujarati with confidence and attended every festival knowing I could probably outdance everyone there.

As I grew older, I didn’t necessarily lose any of that pride, I simply was subjected to overly normalized racism. 

It was the little things, the comments that everyone else overlooked. It was the comments of how “harsh” Indian food smells, how the languages sounded “funny” and dozens of overly normalized jokes about Indian accents.

Though I don’t think that comments alone were the reason I started identifying with my culture less, it definitely contributed. 

Despite this, I still consider myself lucky. I grew up in Queens, N.Y, an ethnically diverse space where I still got to experience having a few Indian friends growing up who, like me, grew up with complicated feelings involving their cultural identity.

As you can imagine at this point, Bollywood became a fond but distant childhood memory. I was too focused on school and my social life to lend a thought to staying fluent in my native tongue or attending any cultural events.

As a preteen I started to feel as if I was only allowed to either have a bubbling social life or a proper connection to my roots. This came to the boiling point when I moved to Coppell. It was a wakeup call when I realized how much fluency I had lost in Gujarati. 

The only person I spoke Gujarati with was my grandma, my Nani who insisted on this way to help me keep fluency which I could not thank her enough for. The first time I had seen and spoken to her in months, I sat there fumbling for the correct words to express myself.

My newfound high school friends would speak in their native tongues effortlessly. They had a genuine integrated celebration and content with their cultural identities which I had no idea I lacked.

It woke me up to the reality that I don’t truly value my roots. I had been treating them like an inconvenience for the longest time. Something I’d have to explain away or ignore if I had too.

Equipped with this unpleasant realization, I set out to find myself finding my footing again. Surprisingly what truly helped me the most were Bollywood jam sessions.

I have dozens of memories of me and my friends busting silly moves and screaming lyrics to songs. Study sessions quickly turned to karaoke that ended with us curling over in laughter. 

I swear every other song I heard invoked a new, previously forgotten childhood memory. 

It inspired me to stop dwelling in the discomfort of losing my cultural connection and instead to actively seek connection. 

As my Bollywood playlist grew, I felt like I had rediscovered a side of myself I had buried for years. I started attending garbas and heritage nights with my friends and I found out how much I adored having a community to relate to and be inspired by. 

It encouraged me to communicate in Gujarat, which I have now regained fluency, even when I felt unsure of myself.

I was astonished by how easy it was for me to feel as if I found my place again. All it took was turning back to my childhood and making my connection.

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