There is nothing more awkward than finding brown in the rainbow.
You see, before I came to Chapel Hill, my experiences dealing not only with American social stigmas of homosexuality, but also with those of the Indian culture made my life into a string of awkward moments.
The notion of homosexuality was not constructed within any Indian community I had ever encountered, and thus being gay to me was incongruent with my culture. The color of my skin intersecting with my sexuality made me feel awkward all the time.
The defining question I asked my young self became, “Could I be Indian and gay and loved all at the same time?”
At first, the answer was no. I would cry out daily to Vishnu in hopes that He would lend me one of his infinite reincarnations and rebirth me into the hetero of heteros (I would do the same begging to the Christian God, thinking that if it worked for most white people, it was worth a try).
When my prayers did not have the effect I had hoped for, I turned to denial, anger and guilt to use as weapons against myself. Toward others, I used my intelligence and extroverted personality to convey a false sense of confidence in all things that were Jagir.
Years passed, and I entered UNC still in the closet. I thrived sociably during my first year at UNC. I was comfortable making friends and speaking truthfully to anyone (except Indians) about anything (except my sexuality).
When the conversations I had with my friends turned to my sexuality, an awkward tension would develop. I would become higher-pitched in my tone, more expressive in my body language and warmer in my cheeks as I convinced people that I loved women. I was, very much so, flaming. My friends were, very much so, uncomfortably unconvinced.
The same characteristics arose when I spoke to Indian people at UNC. I would only talk to Indians at UNC about South Asian culture in hopes that by emphasizing my love for all things curry I could overshadow my inner gay.
