Docsity
Docsity

Prepare for your exams
Prepare for your exams

Study with the several resources on Docsity


Earn points to download
Earn points to download

Earn points by helping other students or get them with a premium plan


Guidelines and tips
Guidelines and tips

Two Ways to Belong in America, Study Guides, Projects, Research of Literature

This is a tale of two sisters from Calcutta, Mira and Bharati.

Typology: Study Guides, Projects, Research

2021/2022

Uploaded on 01/21/2022

michaelporter
michaelporter 🇺🇸

4.4

(27)

287 documents

1 / 2

Toggle sidebar

This page cannot be seen from the preview

Don't miss anything!

bg1
-r"
~~!!!;
.
i
i
I
BHARATI
MUKHERJEE
Two Ways
to
Belong
in
America
Born in 1940 and raised in Calcutta, India, Bharati Mukherjee immi-
grated to the United States in 1961 and earned an
M.F.A.
and a
Ph.D.
in
literature. Mukherjee is the author
of
several novels, including Tiger's
Daughter
(1972) and
Jasmine
(1989), and short story col/ections, such
as
The
Middleman
and
Other
Stories (1988). She teaches literature
and fiction writing at the University
of
California, Berkeley.
"Two
Ways to Belong in America" first appeared in the New York
Times. It waS written
to
address a movement in Congress to take away
government benefits from resident aliens. Like her fiction, though, it
is
also about the issues that confront all immigrants in America.
This
is
a tale
of
two
sisters
from
Calcutta,
Mira
and
Bharati,
who
have
lived
in
the
United
States
for
some
35 years,
but
who
find
themselves
on
different
sides
in
the
current
debate
over
the
status
of
immigrants.
I
am
an
American
citizen
and
she
is
not.
I
am
moved
that
thousands
of
long-term
residents
are
finally
taking
the
oath
of
citizenship.
She
is
not.
Mira
arrived
in
Detroit
in
1960
to
study
child
psychology
and
pre-school
education.
I followed
her
a
year
later
to
study
creative
writing
at
the
University
of
Iowa.
When
we
left
India,
we
were
almost
identical
in
appearance
and
attitude.
We
dressed
alike,
in
saris;
we
expressed
identical
views
on
politics,
social
issues,
love,
and
marriage
in
the
same
Calcutta
convent-school
accent.
We
would endure our two years in America, secure our degrees, then
return
to
India
to
marry
the
grooms
of
our
father's
choosing.
Instead,
Mira
married
an
Indian
student
in
1962
who
was
get-
ting
his
business
administration
degree
at
Wayne
State
Univer-
sity.
They
soon
acquired
the
labor
certifications
necessary
for
the
green
card
of
hassle-free
residence
and
employment.
Mira
still lives
in
Detroit,
works
in
the
Southfield, Mich.,
school
272
TWO
WAYS
TO
BELONG
IN
AMERICA
273
system,
and
has
become
nationally
recognized
for
her
contribu-
tions
in
the
fields
of
pre-school
education
and
parent-teacher
relationships.
After 36
years
as
a legal
immigrant
in
this
country,
she
clings
passionately
to
her
Indian
citizenship
and
hopes
to
go
home
to
India
when
she
retires.
In
Iowa
City
in
1963, I
married
a fellow
student,
an
American
5
of
Canadian
parentage.
Because
of
the
accident
of
his
North
Dakota
birth,
I
bypassed
labor-certification
requirements
and
the
race-related
"quota"
system
that
favored
the
applicant's
country
of
origin
over
his
or
her
merit.
I
was
prepared
for
(and
even
wel-
comed)
the
emotional
strain
that
came
with
marrying
outside
my
ethnic
community.
In
33
years
of
marriage,
we
have
lived
in
every
part
of
North
America.
By
choosing
a
husband
who
was
not
my
father's
selection,
I
was
opting
for
fluidity,
self-invention,
blue
jeans,
and
T-shirts,
and
renouncing
3,000
years
(at
least)
of
caste-
observant,
"pure
culture"
marriage
in
the
Mukherjee
family.
My
books
have
often
been
read
as
unapologetic
(and
in
some
quar-
ters
overenthusiastic)
texts
for
cultural
and
psychological
"mon-
grelization." It's a
word
I celebrate.
Mira
and
I
have
stayed
sisterly
close
by
phone.
In
our
regular
Sunday
morning
conversations,
we
are
unguardedly
affectionate.
I
am
her
only
blood
relative
on
this
continent.
We
expect
to
see
each
other
through
the
looming
crises
of
aging
and
ill
health
without
being
asked.
Long
before
Vice
President
Gore's "Citizen-
ship
U.S.A." drive,
we'd
had
our
polite
arguments
over
the
ethics
of
retaining
an
overseas
citizenship
while
expecting
the
perma-
nent
protection
and
economic
benefits
that
come
with
living
and
working
in
America.
Like well-raised sisters,
we
never
said
what
was
really
on
our
minds,
but
we
probably
pitied
one
another.
She,
for
the
lack
of
shucture
in
my
life,
the
erasure
of
Indianness,
the
absence
of
an
unvarying
daily
core. I,
for
the
narrowness
of
her
perspective,
her
uninvolvement
with
the
mythic
depths
or
the
superficial
pop
cul-
ture
of
this
society.
But,
now,
with
the
scapegoatings
of
"aliens"
(documented
or
illegal)
on
the
increase,
and
the
targeting
of
long-
term
legal
immigrants
like
Mira
for
new
scrutiny
and
new
self-
consciousness,
she
and
I find
ourselves
unable
to
maintain
the
same
polite
discretion.
We
were
always
unacknowledged
adver-
saries, and
we
are now,
more
than
ever, sisters.
"I feel
used,"
Mira
raged
on
the
phone
the
other
night.
"I feel
pf2

Partial preview of the text

Download Two Ways to Belong in America and more Study Guides, Projects, Research Literature in PDF only on Docsity!

-r"~~!!!;.

i

i

I

BHARATI MUKHERJEE

Two Ways to Belong

in America

Born in 1940 and raised in Calcutta, India, Bharati Mukherjee immi- grated to the United States in 1961 and earned an M.F.A. and a Ph.D. in literature. Mukherjee is the author of several novels, including Tiger's Daughter (1972) and Jasmine (1989), and short story col/ections, such as The Middleman and Other Stories (1988). She teaches literature and fiction writing at the University of California, Berkeley. "Two Ways to Belong in America" first appeared in the New York Times. It waS written to address a movement in Congress to take away government benefits from resident aliens. Like her fiction, though, it is also about the issues that confront all immigrants in America.

This is a tale of two sisters from Calcutta, Mira and Bharati, who have lived in the United States for some 35 years, but who find themselves on different sides in the current debate over the status of immigrants. I am an American citizen and she is not. I am moved that thousands of long-term residents are finally taking the oath of citizenship. She is not. Mira arrived in Detroit in 1960 to study child psychology and pre-school education. I followed her a year later to study creative writing at the University of Iowa. When we left India, we were almost identical in appearance and attitude. We dressed alike, in saris; we expressed identical views on politics, social issues, love, and marriage in the same Calcutta convent-school accent. We would endure our two years in America, secure our degrees, then return to India to marry the grooms of our father's choosing. Instead, Mira married an Indian student in 1962 who was get- ting his business administration degree at Wayne State Univer- sity. They soon acquired the labor certifications necessary for the green card of hassle-free residence and employment. Mira still lives in Detroit, works in the Southfield, Mich., school 272

TWO WAYS TO BELONG IN AMERICA 273

system, and has become nationally recognized for her contribu- tions in the fields of pre-school education and parent-teacher relationships. After 36 years as a legal immigrant in this country, she clings passionately to her Indian citizenship and hopes to go home to India when she retires. In Iowa City in 1963, I married a fellow student, an American 5 of Canadian parentage. Because of the accident of his North Dakota birth, I bypassed labor-certification requirements and the race-related "quota" system that favored the applicant's country of origin over his or her merit. I was prepared for (and even wel- comed) the emotional strain that came with marrying outside my ethnic community. In 33 years of marriage, we have lived in every part of North America. By choosing a husband who was not my father's selection, I was opting for fluidity, self-invention, blue jeans, and T-shirts, and renouncing 3,000 years (at least) of caste- observant, "pure culture" marriage in the Mukherjee family. My books have often been read as unapologetic (and in some quar- ters overenthusiastic) texts for cultural and psychological "mon- grelization." It's a word I celebrate. Mira and I have stayed sisterly close by phone. In our regular Sunday morning conversations, we are unguardedly affectionate. I am her only blood relative on this continent. We expect to see

each other through the looming crises of aging and ill health

without being asked. Long before Vice President Gore's "Citizen- ship U.S.A." drive, we'd had our polite arguments over the ethics of retaining an overseas citizenship while expecting the perma- nent protection and economic benefits that come with living and working in America. Like well-raised sisters, we never said what was really on our minds, but we probably pitied one another. She, for the lack of shucture in my life, the erasure of Indianness, the absence of an unvarying daily core. I, for the narrowness of her perspective, her uninvolvement with the mythic depths or the superficial pop cul- ture of this society. But, now, with the scapegoatings of "aliens" (documented or illegal) on the increase, and the targeting of long- term legal immigrants like Mira for new scrutiny and new self- consciousness, she and I find ourselves unable to maintain the same polite discretion. We were always unacknowledged adver- saries, and we are now, more than ever, sisters. "I feel used," Mira raged on the phone the other night. "I feel

r'

ii'

I'

'I
I,

Ii,

j -.

,I

!" ,

i

.I-i;

274 BHARATI MUKHERJEE

manipulated and discarded. This is such an unfair way to treat a person who was invited to stay and work here because of her tal- ent. My employer went to the LN.S. and petitioned for the labor certification. For over 30 years, I've invested my creativity and

professional skills into the improvement of this country's pre-

school system. I've obeyed all the rules, I've paid my taxes, I love my work, I love my students, I love the friends I've made. How

dare America now change its rules in midstream? If America

wants to make new rules curtailing benefits of legal immigrants, they should apply only to immigrants who arrive after those rules are already in place." To my ears, it sounded like the description of a long-enduring, comfortable yet loveless marriage, without risk or recklessness. Have we the right to demand, and to expect, that we be loved? (That, to me, is the subtext of the arguments by immigration advocates.) My sister is an expatriate, professionally generous and creative, socially courteous and gracious, and that's as far as her Americanization can go. She is here to maintain an identity, not to transform it.

I asked her if she would follow the example of others who have 10

decided to become citizens because of the anti-immigration bills

in Congress. And here, she surprised me. "If America wants to

play the manipulative game, I'll play it, too," she snapped. "I'll become a U.S. citizen for now, then change back to India when I'm ready to go home. I feel some kind of irrational attachment to India that I don't to America. Until all this hysteria against legal immigrants, I was totally happy. Having my green card meant I could visit any place in the world I wanted to and then come back to a job that's satisfying and that I do very well." In one family, from two sisters alike as peas in a pod, there could not be a wider divergence of immigrant experience. Amer- ica spoke to me-I married it-I embraced the demotion from expatriate aristocrat to immigrant nobody, surrendering those thousands of years of "pure culture," the saris, the delightfully accented English. She retained them all. Which of us is the freak? Mira's voice, I realize, is the voice not just of the immigrant South Asian community but of an immigrant community of the millions who have stayed rooted in one job, one city, one house, one ancestral culture, one cuisine, for the entirety of their pro- ductive years. She speaks for greater numbers than I possibly can. Only the fluency of her English and the anger, rather than

TWO WAYS TO BELONG TN AMERICA 275

fear, born of confidence from her education, differentiate her from the seamstresses, the domestics, the technicians, the shop owners, the millions of hard-working but effectively silenced documented immigrants as well as their less fortunate "illegal" brothers and sisters. Nearly 20 years ago, when I was living in my husband's ances- tral homeland of Canada, I was always well-employed but never allowed to feel part of the local Quebec or larger Canadian soci- ety. Then, through a Green Paper that invited a national referen- dum on the unwanted side effects of "nontraditional" immigra- tion, the government officially turned against its immigrant communities, particularly those from South Asia. I felt then the same sense of betrayal that Mira feels now. I will never forget the pain of that sudden turning, and the casual racist outbursts the Green Paper elicited. That sense of betrayal had its desired effect and drove me, and thousands like me, from the country. Mira and I differ, however, in the ways in which we hope to IS interact with the country that we have chosen to live in. She is happier to live in America as expatriate Indian than as an immi- grant American. I need to feel like a part of the community I have adopted (as I tried to feel in Canada as well). I need to put roots down, to vote and make the difference that I can. The price that the immigrant willingly pays, and that the exile avoids, is the trauma of self-transformation.

For Discussion and Writing

1. Make a list of specific qualities, behaviors, and beliefs for each of the **two sisters. What similarities and differences are evident?

  1. Mukherjee spends much of this essay comparing herself to her sister. What larger comparison does this analysis support?
  2. Mukherjee's essay contains a lot of background information (about** politics and history), which she skillfully weaves into the story she tells about herself and her sister. Compare the way she incorporates information to the method used by Stephen Jay Gould in "Women's Brains" (p. 130). 4. Think of a sibling or mend with whom you disagree vehemently over some issue or idea. Describe your arguments about it. Are they "polite," as Mukherjee says hers are with her sister?