Suvee+R’s+2016+OpEd+Article

You are American when you forget where you’re from.

I may say that I’m an oreo sometimes, white on the inside and milk chocolate on the outside.

If I was so white washed, TSA would never pull me aside at LAX.

If I was so white washed, being born at CMH wouldn’t surprise people.

If I was so white washed, my house would smell like the meat loaf you had for dinner last night.

Yet, my relatives only speak to me in English, and when I interrupt their Sinhalese conversation with my parents, they are astonished.

I go to temple, and recite most of the prays in Pali, an ancient Buddhist scripture. Most people assume I was born in Sri Lanka and learned the prayers there. Apparently being born in America means I have to forget my culture.

My mom dries spices in our backyard to make her own curry powder, because nothing in the “melting pot” of America is up to par.

While you go get your expensive “high quality” lentils from Whole Foods, my parents and I are going to drive to the Asian Market on Main Street and get some for a third of the price.

We drive to the Sri Lankan embassy to file for dual citizenship, and someone asks me which I w as applying for, the United States or Sri Lanka. A kid asks me if my parents will arrange my marriage.

Another asks me how long it took me to learn English.

A friend denies me of identifying as Asian because I’m not “yellow” and don’t have squinty eyes, as if Sri Lanka is a continent of its own.

Another friend assumed Sri Lanka was in Africa.

Someone comments on my friends Instagram photo.

“ur pretty for an indian girl”

As if people from the country of India are considered unattractive, and my friend Prarthna is the exception.

In fifth grade, the same friend got a henna. Kids at school told her it looked like skin disease. The same kids post pictures on Instagram five years later with henna covering the arms to look trendy.

I’m not white washed. You are just an ignorant white asshole who assumes.