Tuesday, January 04, 2005

Take a chance, you stupid 'ho

While I am aware that this could sound completely hypocritical, I still have to rant that I can't tolerate it when someone is trying to argue with me but can't seem to form complete sentences. I know my grammar is nothing to praise, but absolutely incorrect, incoherent grammar makes my head hurt. And it's hard for me, then, to even take the other person seriously. I automatically write said person off as mentally deficient, which I know is incredibly judgmental.

True comments made in my general direction recently:
  • "You're more Indian than you initially let on"- ummm... I'm not even sure what that remark means. And just how does one respond to such a ridiculous statement? It reminds me of these discussions I used to have with a FOB roommate in grad school. We'd start talking about identity politics, and she'd roll her eyes and say "look, I'm Indian, I don't have to prove that to anyone. It's pretty obvious when you look at me."
  • "Have you ever seen the movie Bend it like Beckham?" This one, taken out of context, seems harmless. But, it came from someone who was interviewing me in a place where at least two brown bloggers can be found. If I had been posed that question in the boonies, it would have been a different matter entirely. But in this particular situation, I couldn't help but ponder what planet she was from while trying to gracefully answer her question.

Well, just to prove how Indian I am (ha!), I was thinking last night about the word hichkichaana. Hindi words really can be exceptionally beautiful, although it should be noted that Gujarati insults are much more colorful and plentiful (big props to Mom for "sharing" them all with me over the years!). Hichkichaana means hesitation. Or- what you waiting, what you waiting, what you waiting for- as Gwen would say. Apparently, she's done with her Indian fetish and is on to exoticizing Japanese girls. Yay. Anyway, I picked up the word hichkichaana over vacation, and it keeps turning over in my head. Why is there so much hesitation? Why can't I just clench my fists and barrel towards things with unswerving resolve? My father says when I was a baby, I was so excited at the discovery that my legs could be used to walk, that I ran... straight into walls. Maybe it's a lifetime of that- excitement followed by a flat smack with reality- that gives me pause nowadays.

Not that I'm not headed straight for the sheetrock again. It's just that, now, given experience, I'm bracing for the impact.

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