The Bigger Picture/Shalini Sinha: Last week had a special place in my heart. It marked the 10th anniversary of my immigration to Ireland.
I would like to have had a party, but it occurs to me I haven't managed to organise one since my 15th birthday. Thus, I wish to share with you some of my personal thoughts.
In Ireland, there is a great sense that "we know the immigration story": Irish people, painfully and in great numbers, left this island, their loved ones, culture and familiar surroundings in search of safety, land and jobs. We know it as a heartbreaking story of need, cultural isolation and social struggle.
Many who emigrated never returned home. As such, a fact remains that while we think we know this story, most of the people living in Ireland never emigrated.
Growing up in Canada, I thought I understood immigration. My parents left India for Canada before I was born. I grew up with their stories: my father starved for three days upon arriving in the new country because he couldn't decipher whether any of the food on offer was vegetarian.
His first encounter with "chips" was decidedly traumatic. He also couldn't tell any of the new, unfamiliar and white faces apart, leaving him in frequent bouts of panic. However, most of these stories were comical to a child.
More tragic was the story of how my father's father in India fell sick and died, and my father heard nothing of it until a telegram dated three months earlier finally arrived.
Added to this were the structural inequalities of the new land. My mum, for example, was an MA graduate and had lectured in sociology in India. In Canada, she was "unskilled" labour.
Both my parents faced suspicions and prejudices when vying for jobs or promotions - "the devil you know is better than the devil you don't". But this isn't just immigration, it's part of being a visible minority. I may never be able to explain to you what that's like, and you may never truly believe it.
Thus, I thought I knew their story and was proud of them. I saw them as stronger than they ever saw themselves. Still, you don't understand immigration until you've been through it yourself.
Truly, emigration is not something I recommend. It has become necessary and common, but you can't explain the impact of losing the culture you were raised in. Culture is a network of philosophies, habits and interactions. The one you learn as a child is not better or worse than any other, but contributes to your identity, sense of security and belonging.
When you emigrate, you lose access to a basic validation of yourself. As much as anyone else might reject you or forever mark you an "outsider", you feel it somewhere in your heart. Your new world is not inherently familiar. Deep down there remains another memory of something that is safe and true, which you no longer find in your new home.
I have now spent almost a third of my life in Ireland - formative years that have shaped me during early adulthood. Because of this, Ireland has grown inside me in a way I never imagined. As much as Irish people see "Irish-Americans" as more American than Irish, my friends back home are strangely finding me more Irish than Canadian. (Indian-Irish, Canadian-Irish, Indian-Canadian-Irish?)
I remember the day my "tom-ay-toes" turned into "tom-ah-toes" for the first time. I now prefer plasters to band-aids for my son's wounds. I no longer vacuum, but hoover, and I never use a pen anymore, reaching for a biro every time.
Still, I think my sense of humour remains distinctly Canadian. As Canadians use humour to navigate through every social situation, I am forever misunderstood and, sadly, often in trouble. As much as I am now from here, these insidious moments remind me that I'm not.
Yes, some people still tell me to "go back to where I came from" and think I'm here only to take their resources or get one over on them in some way. When I wander from my familiar patch, or when someone new moves in, there are still questions as to whether I speak English, can function intelligently, or how I ought to be served: in turn, last or not at all.
Still, there are people here (across cultural and colour divides) who love me deeply, and whom I love deeply. We rely on each other and enjoy each other's company. After 10 years, there is a newer sense of safety and familiarity developing.
Finally, there are many ethnic minorities who came to Ireland before I did, and many who were born here. Still, I feel as though I am part of a "first generation" of multicultural Irish. This is the first generation in Ireland where diversity is recognised as possibly also Irish. And, I think I have played some part in getting us here.
After 10 years, I am Irish. You may not recognise or even like the form I am, but it is distinctly there within me. In this time, I have also had the privilege of having an impact on Ireland. And so, I leave forever a piece of me in you.
ssinha@irish-times.ie
Shalini Sinha practises life coaching and the Bowen Technique in her clinic, Forward Movement.