Gori Girl

Guess Who’s Coming to Diwali?

Slate’s Dear Prudence column has dipped its toe into the intercultural relationship waters with a advice on how to deal with Indian parents refusing to meet their boy’s girlfriend. The situation is one that a number of readers here have seen – or are currently in – so I thought I’d link to this timely advice. Personally, I think that Prudie’s advice on what to do is pretty spot on: insist on having the parents meet the girl at the next chance. However, I don’t think Prudie understands all of the intricacies involved in an intercultural relationship – especially one where the parent-child relationship of one partner’s culture is so different from the other’s.

Septia Mutiny has a brief post on the same article – and while the post itself isn’t much to write home about, the comments section has a lot of interesting stories and discussions on it. Check it out when you have the time.

He’s soooo Indian!

In this guest post, NeoKalypso of Doings & Undoings writes about her understanding of “Indian-ness.”

“You are too prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are? That some people see things that others cannot? … There are always mysteries in life.” – Abraham Van Helsing, metaphysician and scientist from Bram Stoker’s Dracula

I knew my Indian boyfriend was pretty down with his culture, but after meeting his brother-in-law I just looked at R amusedly and said, “Wow. He’s sooo Indian.” R knew exactly what I meant, smiled and said, “Oh, he totally is. You should see him in India. He’s absolutely in his element.”

Later I will unpack this exchange for Gori Girl readers. But first, some background. I’m a white American woman and my R is from a very traditional, South Indian (Telugu) family. Of the Indian families I have had the pleasure of knowing, I feel at liberty to say R’s is the “most hardcore” (i.e. traditional) I’ve known. For example, out of his 200 family members, only one ventured outside of Telugu culture to marry…a Gujarati. R’s little niece and nephew speak Telugu. His mom, pop, sister, brother-in-law, and their kids have often lived in the same house, sharing family responsibilities (which is very common for more traditional families). It has worked well for them.

Why the Gori of Gori Girl?

There’s been some talk in the comments about the word gori, which, given the blog name, is probably a term you’ll hear thrown around here from time to time. So I thought I’d explain what it means, some of the connotations it can carry, and why I chose it for the name of this blog – as well as my pen name.

What does gori mean?

The following was derived from Aditya’s lengthy comments on the etymology of the word gori – be thankful that I’m sparing you all of the tangential diatribes that developed during our conversation.

Gori is a Hindi adjective that literally means “fair” or “light-complexioned”. The i at the end of the word is a feminine conjugation, so gori is often used as a noun, with the subject being understood without explicit reference. In this slightly looser interpretation of the word, gori can mean “pale female”, “fair woman”, or even “white girl”. The masculine version of gori is gora, which can be translated as white man. Since I’m awfully pale-skinned, at least in the winter, gori can be rightly used as an adjective to describe me, or as a noun in reference me.

Who is Affected by your Intercultural Relationship?

Many people subscribe to the idea that your personal life is nobody’s business but your own – as long as you aren’t maiming others, anyways. While I generally agree with the sentiment this idea expresses, I also think it’s important to realize that, like it or not, your actions affect a wide swath of people. In fact, at the margin, your actions affect the entire world.

Let’s all pause for a moment to ponder that grandiose thought while breaking out into The Circle of Life.

Everyone back? Good. I brought up this topic because being in an intercultural relationships has a tendency to disrupt the “social equilibrium,” if you will, of the people around you. In almost every country and region an intercultural relationship is the exception, not the norm. So while being in any relationship might affect those close to you – my dad still hasn’t gotten over the fact that I’m no longer his little girl – intercultural relationships are both a regular ol’ relationship and something of a challenge to the status quo. As if romantic relationships weren’t tough enough on their own!

In this post I’m focusing on how intercultural relationships, in particular, affect those around us. I’ll start out by laying out a (non-comprehensive) list of the type of people who can be affected by your intercultural marriage or relationship, continue with how these effects ripple out through the social web of life, and then finish up with how much you should really care about it all. This post developed as I thought about how parents can react to their children’s intercultural relationships – I’ll be applying the principles and theory I develop here to that post, which will be the next “serious” one.

Meeting the Desi Parents

Few things fill me with as much dread as meeting my partner’s parents.

First off, I’m socially awkward by nature – at least when meeting new people. I never know how to make small talk, or when good eye contact crosses the line into weird staring, or if my posture and facial expressions are saying “possibly mentally deranged” rather than “cool and confident “.

Then there’s the fact that I’m meeting the parents. While I’m not exactly a “people pleaser”, I do think it’s important to have a good rapport with the parents of your significant other, at least if he or she is close to them (and Aditya is). If the relationship continues then they’re going to be a part of your life forever, and well, family matters, you know? And first impressions matter too.

Finally, with Aditya’s parents I had the whole “different culture” thing to worry about too. All of the social rules and interpersonal cues – which I only have a passing knowledge of, anyways – go swishing out the window when you’re faced with a new culture. Not only could I completely mess up, I could completely mess up and not even know what I did wrong.

Despite this, my initial meetings with Aditya’s parents – first Maa, then Baba – ended up going quite well. While this may be more due to their innate awesomeness than any actions of mine, I hope my story can help out some of you who are struggling with the same sort of worries I had had. Next post I’ll be focusing on some of the more “theoretical” aspects of meeting the parents, which will greatly extend some of the points I bring up here, so be sure to tune in for that too.

Do the Needful and Learn the Language, Gori!

I can handle Hinglish – the Indian version of Spanglish – without a problem. I’ve got all that slang down. I’m comfortable with about any accent you can throw at me – a neeful thing indeed when your main social interactions are with a bunch of international grad students and professors who are more comfortable with equations than English. And you’d be surprised at how well I can parse together body language, tone, and the occasional English word in order to understand the conversation as a whole. Unfortunately, these skills, impressive though they might be, don’t cut it when what you really need to do is buckle down and learn a foreign language. This is something I suck at.

Yesterday I discussed all the great reasons you ought to be studying the native language of your partner. Today I’m focusing on why I haven’t yet achieved fluency in Aditya’s native language, Bengali, despite all those great reasons – and what I’m doing about it.

10 Reasons You Should Learn Your Partner’s Native Language

A reader in the comments asked for me to discuss how I’ve dealt with language issues in my intercultural marriage. From my side of things there haven’t been many issues, since Aditya speaks English very well. This has allowed me to be really lax (read: lazy) about learning his native language, Bengali, which I absolutely think I ought to do. While developing the post on our language issues, such as they are, I started to think about all the great reasons I should get off my butt and start studying Bengali. The personal post will be up tomorrow, but for now here are ten reasons in no particular order, along with a bit of explanation.

Homecooked Indian Doesn’t Happen Much Here

A reader, Veronica, sent in the following question a couple of days ago:

My boyfriend is from Gondia and I wanted to learn to cook some food from that area of India. What kind of Indian food do you cook for your husband?

Heh, well, I guess it’s confession time here on Gori Girl: I can’t remember the last time I cooked real Indian food. Maggi? Sure. Ginger tea? It’s been known to happen. TastyBite or other yummy precooked packaged Indian meals? We’ve got a pantry full of ‘em. And we’ve got a kabob takeout place on speed dial.

But I don’t ever cook a full meal of real Indian food. I mean, I have in the past, but it’s not a regular thing at all. There’s a simple enough explanation for this – I’ve just never learned how to cook Indian food. When I grew up in California I had a lot of Chinese and Taiwanese friends and neighbors, so I can make a fair number of Chinese dishes. I’ve managed to pick up a few things from my Mexican, Japanese, and Korean relatives (yup, it’s a rainbow of colors at family reunions). But until I met Aditya I wasn’t close friends with anyone who could cook Indian food. Of course, given his limited repertoire in the kitchen, I still didn’t know anyone who could cook (much) Indian food after I met him either.

Nowadays, I mostly limit myself to adding Indian spices to change the taste of some of the dishes I already cook. Turmeric powder gets tossed into the stirfry, or garam masala is added to the sausage stew after it’s done. Actually, it’s a bit of a hazard for our friends who dine at our house without knowing this habit of mine – they’ll bite into the chicken pot pie, only to discover there’s a bunch of chicken curry masala in the sauce.

While this response might be a superficial answer to Veronica’s question (no Indian food is cooked for poor Aditya), it isn’t a particularly helpful answer for people looking to make some familiar food for their partners. This question actually comes at a particularly good time, as I’ve been thinking about trying my hand at real Indian cooking. So – how can you learn to cook Indian (or other, new-to-you) food? Let’s go through the difference resources available:

What Counts as an Intercultural Relationship?

Boy, I love me some good, high fiber intercultural friendship! Aditya informs me it’s particularly tasty with warmed whole milk. His insistence that cold cereal is best eaten with whole milk that is not in its natural state of refrigerated coldness (oh, the horrors***) is one of many indicators that we might just be in an intercultural relationship. (I suppose his Indian passport, brown skin, and Hindu faith also belong on the list of indicators, although, frankly, I notice the milk-warming thing just as often.)

Seriously, though – where is the line between just doing things a little differently, and being from two different cultures?

Here on Gori Girl, we’re pretty open about the definition of an intercultural relationship (henceforth ICR). Since culture is a broad, nebulous thing, finding someone of a different culture to be in a relationship with isn’t that hard to do. “Relationship”, by the way, is also a broad, nebulous concept, but we’re not going to get into that. If you think you’re in a relationship, be it hetro, homo, platonic, “it’s complicated” on facebook, or whatever else, then you are, as far as I’m concerned. One concept at a time, and today’s focus is on the intercultural part of ICR.