This from "World Post", in partnership with "Huffington Post" It shows how immigrants and first generation Americans struggle with their transition into this "brave new world they have been thrust into. It's about courage, a willingness to break free, and the willingness to embrace change. By the way, I hope the old "Wisdom Of The East" crap has finally dies out.
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http://www.huffingtonpost.com/gursimran-sandhu/indian-divorce-mom-saved-life_b_6574426.html?ncid=txtlnkusaolp00000592
Eight years ago, my mom divorced my dad. But we're Indian, and that
never happens. It just isn't something we do -- not in India, not in
America and especially not initiated by a woman.
My parents had
an arranged marriage. She was young when they wed, and he was ten years
her senior. She earned a law degree from UCLA at 21 and took (and
passed) the bar exam a week after having me. For years, my mom was a
dutiful Indian wife -- providing all domestic services, raising me and
my two brothers and taking care of my dad's parents and brother, who all
lived with us. On top of it all, she held down a full-time job as an
attorney.
My mom was very unhappy in the marriage, for personal reasons that
will remain unnamed. And yet still, for years, she did everything in her
power to save the marriage.
Finally, my senior year of high
school, she moved out. And while I know divorce has become quite common,
it really isn't in the Indian community. It's like signing up to be a
leper. Everyone shunned her (and us) because only a "dishonorable"
family couldn't keep its house in order. At temple, parties and family
functions, people would gawk and whisper. Any chances of me having an
arranged marriage were shot. (Thank goodness, I prefer a love marriage,
thank you very much.)
As my mom struggled through the divorce, her career took a hit. Her
new "single mom" status, coupled with her "focus on children," made her a
"poor candidate" for partner at her law firm. She was finally on her
own but every single aspect of her life fell apart.
My parents
both belonged to the farmer caste -- Jat Sikh's from Punjab -- but he
came from a military family, while her parents were from the "pind"
(village). Her family immigrated to America when she was seven, so when
she was ready to be married off, her family's social rank within the
caste had risen due to its green card status. Someone like my dad, who
was "higher" within the same caste, would traditionally only be willing
to marry a village girl in exchange for something extremely valuable,
like American residency. I was told that their marriage never would have
happened in the old country
According to Indian culture, she should have been eternally thankful
to be wed to someone with his education and solid family name. A good
wife should show her appreciation by keeping her mouth shut and
silencing any disagreeable thoughts. A good wife should honor her
husband by pretending she is happy and ignoring any infidelities. A good
wife should be completely and utterly subordinate to her husband and
like it.
My culture teaches us that "boys will be boys" and that
our role is to deal with it. A good wife can manage her husband and
police herself so as not to displease him or upset the balance. Any
physical or emotional violence is simply a byproduct of a woman not
doing her part and knowing her place. Divorce is not an option. Chastity
is prized in our community, and a woman that has lain with a man can
never be seen as a suitable bride again. A man would never think about
divorce because he can carry on extramarital affairs, physically abuse
his wife and children, have a free cook/maid and basically do whatever
the hell he wants, to no consequence.
The
only real reason a man might initiate a divorce would be if his wife
cheated but in the rare case of that happening, I honestly think he'd
kill the other man (and/or his wife) before it ever actually got to
legal proceedings. Vengeance is a strong theme in my culture, and
"maintaining honor" is of the utmost importance. It may sound archaic
but first generation Indians have brought this way of thinking to the
U.S., and our communities are just big enough to support and reinforce
this mindset.
When my mom left my dad, she risked everything. She
had been bred for domesticity. For two decades, her role was to be seen
not heard. She had no identity, no voice and no confidence within the
community or in her personal life. Every single day hurt more than the
last. She had brought shame to herself and her family, and it seemed
like we were doomed to be outcasts forever.
Life went on like this
for a while. Then, one weekend, I came home from grad school and found
my mom trying on some new clothes. She had found some amazing sale on
designer jeans and scooped up several pairs. (Indians always love a good
deal.) She bought some jeans for me too and insisted I try them on.
There we were, in our designer denim, and for the first time I saw my
mom for who she really was.
For so many years, she had slumped
around with no self-esteem to speak of. She had had terrible posture and
wore ill-fitting clothes because she was overweight and depressed. But
that day, she was beaming. She stood tall and looked fantastic in a pair
of Rock & Republic jeans that hugged every curve of her beautiful
figure. For once, she wasn't afraid to admit that to herself or to show
it off to the world. A kernel of confidence had grown within her heart,
and from that point on, there was no stopping her
Today -- many years after her arranged wedding, 12 years after she
moved out and 8 years after the divorce became final, my mom has risen
from the ashes and is now a partner at one of the biggest labor law
firms in California. We thought this day would never come. As hard as it
was, the struggle was completely worth it.
My mom was a broken
shell of a woman when she was married. Had she "done the right thing"
and stayed married, she surely would have lost her mind by now. By
standing up for her right to happiness, she opened up a world of
possibility that I never knew existed. She showed me that my thoughts
and feelings mattered. She showed me that we can't live for other
people. She showed me that we are in control of our lives, and we have
the power to make changes.
