Trisha Mukartihal

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As a white-bred Indian American girl, I triangulated what it meant to be Indian by Papa’s expectations and these limited cultural signposts. When I began to sense how anemic my understanding of my own history was, I became threatened by the way white people appropriated South Asian cultural traditions in part because my relationship with Indian identity felt almost as appropriative. My insecurity over my identity had turned culture into a performance rather than something I inhabited authentically.
They Called Us Exceptional: And Other Lies That Raised Us
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