Growing up in between two worlds can ensure that we fit in neither of them. With one world pulling you one way and a second world pulling you another, it can be hard to decide what path to follow. Having been influenced by both, it can be nearly impossible to belong to either of them; rather we create our own culture filled with combinations of the two that are so important to us. However, sometimes we forced to deal with a particular culture that we left to create our own. When my aunt and her family came over unexpectedly to celebrate a holiday, Eid, I was faced with a world I left behind.

My parents were a lot less traditional then any of their relatives were, and as a result, we did not often see the latter. This had always been fine with me since I found being near my extended family to be uncomfortable and nerve-wracking. The difference between how my cousins and I were raised was always apparent to me. Their parents were “strict Bengali,” the type of people who followed their religion closely and expected their children to do the same. Growing up with my laid back parents, I was not exposed to this expectation, and therefore had more room to intertwine the Bengali culture my parents taught me about and the American culture I grew up in. This set up for a lot of confusion when I dealt with my relatives.
The second I woke up the day they came to visit it was obvious to me that I woke up in a different world. As soon as I opened my eyes I heard my mother’s voice telling me put more conservative clothes on, something she never asks me to do. I could hear the frenzy in her tone; this unexpected visit had my mom running to tidy up the house and ensure that we looked presentable to our relatives to whom appearances meant everything. After I dragged myself out of bed and covered myself head to toe, I approached the living room where my family waited to see me. As my aunt ushered me to a seat and hugged me repeatedly, I looked around at the faces that I barely remembered. The differences were obvious and made me feel like I was miles away, though I was sitting right next to them. All the women present were covered in burkas from head to toe, while I sat there in a long sleeved t-shirt and leggings. My male cousin stiffly stood near his wife, obviously not pleased with his recent arranged marriage, while I sat there confident that my parents would never pressure me into something like that. Even when my relatives talked, they did it in fluent Bengali which I could only understand, not speak. As I struggled to reply in their language, they laughingly found it endearing. But I knew that in a few years my aunt would criticize my mother for not teaching me the language thoroughly.
While I noticed the stark differences between us, I felt my head build up with questions. What would they say about my family when they left? Did I look too “American” for them? Should I try talking in Bengali? Was the house clean enough for their high standards? Did they care that my clothing was a little tight? Should I try to hide my half-dyed hair? When my older sister came into the room, I breathed a sigh of relief. That’s how it always was for us seeing our relatives, we would stick together almost as if we were allies in a war, and in a way we were. My sister and I grew up in one world, our cousins in another; we had more differences than commonalities with them and we never forgot it.

Bridging the gap between two worlds can be extremely difficult, especially if you live in and favor one above the other. The values I learned from both cultures combined into an original set of values for the world I created out of the two I experienced. For example, I do not eat pork, a belief I picked up from my Bengali culture, but I do eat meat like chicken and beef that has not been “blessed,” in American restaurants. Also, I do not wear a hijab, the headdress traditional to Bengali culture, but I do wear more conservative clothing than some of my American friends. I have always favored my American beliefs regarding most things which made it all the more harder to connect to my Bengali culture, mainly my Bengali family. Of course my Bengali world was usually filled with more judgment and intolerance, making the choice of my preferred culture easy. In Bangladesh, despite the Prime Minister being a woman, women have very little say concerning any matter besides housework; however, in America women are treated as equals to men. Also, in Bengali culture there is an enormous emphasis on appearance; our families must always care what other people think and say about us, making it difficult to have a life separate from home. Nevertheless both cultures, with the good and the bad, have influenced me in their own way, so I don’t belong to a specific one at a time. When caught in between two worlds there is only one option; make your own.