What I Am Made Of

Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, W.I.

I have been told that I'm neglecting a part of me. I have been neglecting something "that I am made of." I was born to an immigrant mother and father making me first generation American. My biological father wasn't around while I was growing up. I had a father figure who wasn't the best but did just enough to leave an impression. My mother flew from Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, West Indies in 1977 embarking on something different. I was born 10 years later to her and my two older brothers. Her background is my heritage. My grandmother was born in Saint Vincent and her grandmother hailed from Calcutta, India.

I always have been enticed for fighting for the equal treatment of my race, gender and to all inequality. Most of my essays are about fighting the good fight and living as a cohesive unity of people. A good friend of mine, who is of Indian descent via the South American country of Guyana, always seems to point out my non-acknowledgment of my Indian heritage. Maybe I have been a little shortsighted and only focused on my Blackness but I know that in order for me to know my truth I must fight for all of me.

Calcutta (Kolkata), India

Calcutta or Kolkata is the capital of West Bengal in India. It is a world in itself. It is the center of East India and home to 4.5 million people. The first record of the history of Calcutta is from 1690. Calcutta seemed to always have been the business center of East Indian because it is where most trading went on. The richness of the city has rooted it as a metropolis.With the rise of invasions and occupying of land in the 1850's, Calcutta was split in two: Black Town and White Town. Black Town housed Indians and of course Blacks while White Town consisted of the invader British. Already industrious and business-centered, there was a boom in industrial growth and natural resource causing the British to invest in the city's continued growth. Eventually Calcutta became the center of the fight for independence from any type of foreign rule. 

After the city's victory of it's independence it began to flourish and maintain on its own. During World War II the city was bombed by the Japanese causing grave damage to the city's infrastructure. This lead to the downhill factors of living during the time. Millions of people starved to death and thousands killed from the tug-of-war of power between people who craved solitary rule. Calcutta was dubbed, "the dying city," during its time of despair. The people there were resilient though. The city would become a base for Indian communism and build from within its walls. 

I don't know when my great-great grandmother left Calcutta and ventured to the West Indian island of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines. Her family had a reason for the move and so is life. In Saint Vincent a young woman of Indian descent started her life and had children. One of her daughters will eventually give birth to my mother. My mother spent her childhood and part of her adulthood around contact of her lineage. She was able to listen to the stories and the wisdom that comes with age. I have passed down tales and actual moments from vague memories. Even with the little information, I wouldn't trade knowing something for anything in the world. 

One day while working, an Ethiopian woman asked me if was Ethiopian and of course I said no. Coincidence is a crazy thing and that moment stuck on my mind. I told my mother of the incident and she would go on to tell me Indians migrated to Ethiopia. This new information made me wonder just what else is my truth. There will always be so much to learn when it comes to an individual's history, we just have to accept that we didn't get here alone. Our ancestors went through worse conditions than we did because of the lack of technology and advanced knowledge but they knew how to survive and maintain.       

Here I am writing about what I am made of. This is me writing about a part of me that I have neglected over time. It isn't to appease my friend but to come to terms with my truth. In order to know who you are truly you must embrace every part of you. I'm sure there is more to the lineage but this is one that is still with me to this day. Eventually the blood will dilute, the lineage would get further away and each new generation will forget.

Never be afraid to embrace who you are. It is important to know your history. Be the representative of "what you are made of."