Thursday, June 19, 2008

A person of interest

For the purpose of this blog, I chose a name for my daughter that is taken from the most Western part of her given name. The name that she goes by is Western too, but it is also Indian. That's what we love about it: the name is both European and Indian, crossing cultures, just like our family.

Today Will and I went to our favourite park. There is an enclosed area where she can run up and down, without me having to worry about her falling through a space for a slide or a pole. Soon after we arrived, an Indian woman and her daughter pulled up, and we started asking the mandatory mom questions as we pushed our girls on the swings. How old is she? What is her name?

When I told her Will's name, her demeanor shifted. "That's an Indian name." We had become much more intriguing to her now.

"Yes. Her dad's Indian."

"Have you taken her to India?" An interesting follow-up question.

"No. Her dad hasn't even been there yet."

She nodded, processing the information. "We've gone back twice. Once when she was a year and a half, and again last year for a wedding. She's four now."

Within ten minutes, we had run through all the *important* information: the professions of our husbands, other Indian people she knew in my husband's career, her own level of education at the graduate level, my career and current choice to stay at home. I could sense her evaluating me, trying to decide if there was a place for us in the *community.*

Sorry, but we're not looking to be embraced by a particular group. We try not to limit ourselves with labels.

I wondered if I would have to avoid the park to avoid a possible invitation to socialize . . . then realized I was being ridiculous.

She was probably just curious.

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