“It is a part of who we are. You will appreciate it later,” my mother repeatedly told me as a child the many times I refused to respond to her in Hindi. Although I was born in the United States, I always felt slightly foreign. For one thing, my name, Charu Agrawal, sounds foreign. My mother would pack foods like aloo gobi and parathas in my lunch box. I constantly found myself trying to fit in with my classmates, who spoke English at home, had American-sounding names like Brittany, and brought turkey sandwiches for lunch. However, as immigrants to this country, my parents were determined to assimilate into American culture while retaining their Indian identity. Speaking Hindi was central to their identity. In contrast, I was desperately trying to fit in, so speaking English, sometimes with a Texas twang, was mandatory among my schoolmates. Nonetheless, I soon learned that I had better speak Hindi in our household if I expected any consideration from my parents, such as permission to attend birthday parties and sleepovers, and later, to borrow the family car. So, I spoke Hindi purely as a survival tactic, not as a nod to my cultural heritage. While I spent the majority of my childhood thinking that Hindi would not have any practical use outside our home, my perspective changed one day on hospital rounds.

“这是我们身份的一部分。稍后您将不胜感激，”我的母亲在孩提时代多次对我说，我拒绝在印地语中对她做出回应。尽管我出生于美国，但我总是觉得自己有点陌生。一方面，我的名字Charu Agrawal听起来很陌生。我的母亲会在我的午餐盒中装满aloo gobi和parathas之类的食物。我经常发现自己想适应我的同学，这些同学在家讲英语，有像布列塔尼这样的美国名字，并带来了火鸡三明治作为午餐。但是，作为移民到这个国家，我的父母决心融入美国文化，同时保留他们的印度身份。讲北印度语对他们的身份至关重要。相反，我拼命地尝试适应，因此在我的同学中，英语是强制性的，有时是德克萨斯州的t​​wang。但是，我很快了解到，如果我希望父母的任何考虑，例如准许参加生日聚会和过夜，以及以后借用家用汽车，我最好在家里讲北印度语。因此，我讲北印度语纯粹是为了生存，而不是对我的文化遗产致敬。虽然我在童年时代的大部分时间都在考虑印地语在我们家外不会有任何实际用途，但在医院里，有一天我的看法发生了变化。