Towards the end of my first marriage, my soon-to-be ex told me that she should have married another Pakistani because he would understand her better. We never had disagreements directly about race, so I assume this is a judgement about the overall trend of my behavior. Because I was consciously adopting a Pakistani identity I no doubt engaged in too much essenctializing, reducing the complex phenomena of Pakistani culture to easily adopted symbols. The increased intensity of my commitment to Islam which followed upon my trip to Lahore and Islamabad also contributed to the deterioration of our relationship, for related reasons. I fastened on to the Islamic identity of Pakistan while that aspect of Pakistan was what she disliked the most. She favored the elements of continuity with the shared culture of India, even learning Bharatnatyam.
I've had to struggle with this issue since I first converted to Islam. I always felt bad when my brothers (or my then wife) would call me "the white guy?" Didn't they get the message that I wasn't white anymore? Didn't they see my long scraggly beard, my kufi, my shalwar-kameez? Didn't they see the kafiyyah I wore in solidarity with my Occupied brothers and sisters in Palestine? I got called the same names they did, "rag-head," "sand-nigger," and what not. Why couldn't they get with the program? Now, of course, I see how pretentious and narcissistic this was. I think the comments that I received that I was more Pakistani than Pakistani people may have been a good-natured attempt to get me see the reality of my position. In the end, I could shave my beard and switch back to jeans and a t-shirt. They were stuck with their skin-colour, facial features, and names. It's not good to humour someone with an obsessive "Dances with Wolves" complex.
While not a major problem in my current marriage, there have been some flare ups. There has never been an argument over specific things that I have said, but my comments here and there left her with a nagging feeling that I look at her in a paternalistic way. The problem for me is two fold: I have to look at myself, my actions, my words and determine what truth there is in her statement and I have to express my reply in a way that will not strengthen the very suspicions that it is meant to alleviate.
Zizek mentioned the need to get beyond the paternalistic multicultural bullshit that keeps us from connecting as individuals (the my culture is great, your culture is great syndrome). But it is sometimes that connection that leads to a more intense racial feeling; when we feel connected, we express ourselves more freely. When we express ourselves more freely, we are more likely to say something that will be misconstrued or that becomes demeaning due to the social position of the person making the statement. Should I then retreat into the multicultural bubble, expressing my admiration for her culture or, to be more precise, for the strength of Indian women? Is that not patronizing as well? Zizek's answer to this conundrum was to form a new solidarity based on struggle. It may not be a panacea, but I think it will be an effective response not just to the problem of inter-cultural or inter-racial marriages, but to solidarity within the Muslim and American communities. We can unite together in the struggle to build a strong family, to deal with the serious issues facing the Muslim community,to confront the flagrant injustice that constitutes the social fabric in America.
I've had to struggle with this issue since I first converted to Islam. I always felt bad when my brothers (or my then wife) would call me "the white guy?" Didn't they get the message that I wasn't white anymore? Didn't they see my long scraggly beard, my kufi, my shalwar-kameez? Didn't they see the kafiyyah I wore in solidarity with my Occupied brothers and sisters in Palestine? I got called the same names they did, "rag-head," "sand-nigger," and what not. Why couldn't they get with the program? Now, of course, I see how pretentious and narcissistic this was. I think the comments that I received that I was more Pakistani than Pakistani people may have been a good-natured attempt to get me see the reality of my position. In the end, I could shave my beard and switch back to jeans and a t-shirt. They were stuck with their skin-colour, facial features, and names. It's not good to humour someone with an obsessive "Dances with Wolves" complex.
While not a major problem in my current marriage, there have been some flare ups. There has never been an argument over specific things that I have said, but my comments here and there left her with a nagging feeling that I look at her in a paternalistic way. The problem for me is two fold: I have to look at myself, my actions, my words and determine what truth there is in her statement and I have to express my reply in a way that will not strengthen the very suspicions that it is meant to alleviate.
Zizek mentioned the need to get beyond the paternalistic multicultural bullshit that keeps us from connecting as individuals (the my culture is great, your culture is great syndrome). But it is sometimes that connection that leads to a more intense racial feeling; when we feel connected, we express ourselves more freely. When we express ourselves more freely, we are more likely to say something that will be misconstrued or that becomes demeaning due to the social position of the person making the statement. Should I then retreat into the multicultural bubble, expressing my admiration for her culture or, to be more precise, for the strength of Indian women? Is that not patronizing as well? Zizek's answer to this conundrum was to form a new solidarity based on struggle. It may not be a panacea, but I think it will be an effective response not just to the problem of inter-cultural or inter-racial marriages, but to solidarity within the Muslim and American communities. We can unite together in the struggle to build a strong family, to deal with the serious issues facing the Muslim community,to confront the flagrant injustice that constitutes the social fabric in America.
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