After
its 1986 conception, the play The Colored Museum was lauded for its
groundbreaking satire on black identity in America; however, its recent revival
at the Huntington Theatre in Boston this past week indicates that stereotypes,
appropriation, and erasure remain relevant in modern society. Though the play
itself focused on African-American culture, it interacted with a predominantly
white audience. The Colored Museum sparked a brilliant post-show
discussion that revealed the parallels between black cultural identity and my
own Indian-American upbringing.
The post-show discussion was almost
entirely comprised of black audience members, an interesting switch from the
Caucasian majority audience in the theater. They brought up parts of the play that
resonated with them, often the same scenes that made them deeply uncomfortable.
We discussed repression and erasure in depth. Such topics pulsed through
society 20 years ago as they do now.
I was particularly struck by the themes of
appropriation and assimilation. The characters in The Colored Museum continually
tried to fit into binaries and boxes. They attempted to repress or altogether
hide their cultural identities but could not separate themselves from their
history and background. These identity struggles interfere with their successes
and daily lives; although portrayed comically in the satire, such a struggle is
widespread and often permeates deeply in immigrant and “outsider”
consciousness.
I carry a similar story. As a first-generation Indian
immigrant, I yearned to fit in with my American peers. I was teased for my
superficial differences—my accent, my clothing, my lunchbox. I tried to
compensate, acting “more American” in order to prove my legitimacy—but I didn’t
allow me to be me.
Instead, we found a middle ground. My parents and I realized that
we had to shed pieces of our customs as we assimilated into the country. Even
so, we maintained a culturally Indian household. We celebrate a traditional
Holi and Diwali. We cook full, flavorful Indian meals and eat dinner together. We cherish Indian fabric and jewelry and wear them with pride.
I’ve learned that
we all carry contradictions. I am Hindu, Indian, American, a woman, a
Georgetown student. I eat beef. I watch trashy television. I don’t say my
prayers enough—or maybe I say them too much. Every day, these contradictions
challenge me. And because of daily experiences and satirical works such as The
Colored Museum, I have learned to meditate on these contradictions.
Although repression is often the initial reaction, healthy reconciliation with
these identity contradictions is essential for balance. Satire helps. If we can
make fun of ourselves, we recognize the universality of these struggles.
I grew into my American-Indian identity. I was lucky to find a
blend between the two; however, it’s not without external confusion.
Microaggressions are ever present in this duality: “Wow, your earrings
are beautiful. Are they from India?” “And where are you REALLY from?” “You’re
so exotic.”
Yet these thoughtless words and lack of understanding carry little
weight. As Topsy Washington, a character in The Colored Museum’s
empowering finale, asserted, “I used to jump into a rage anytime anyone used to
deny who I was, now all I got to do is give attitude quicker than light, and
get on about the business of being me. Cuz’ I’m dancing to the music of the
madness in me.”
