HOW LIVING IN WOLVERHAMPTON HAS SHAPED MY CULTURAL IDENTITY

By Nisha-Paris Murria

While my mother came from a very traditional Indian household, my father’s family was more westernised. My mum dressed in Indian outfits most days, spoke the traditional Punjabi language (as this was the only way to communicate to my grandparents), and ate traditional Punjabi dishes. My father, on the other hand, spoke very little Punjabi as his parents and family spoke English and ate traditional South Asian food. 

My parents moved to Wolverhampton and had me, and whilst they took a Westernised parenting stance, they made an active effort to ensure I didn’t lose my Asian roots.  From a young age I was taught by my mum the alphabet, numbers, colours, and common words in Punjabi. She prides herself about it most days. I did not wear the traditional Asian attire in my daily life but rather only on special occasions, and I only ate traditional Asian food when I visited my grandparents. I used to watch Bollywood movies quite a bit… I loved the songs. I was in awe at how whimsical and romantic it made life feel. In pre-school, I  made lots of friends who came from different cultures. However, at a certain point in my childhood my parents decided to move from central Wolverhampton to the outskirts of a rural village for a better quality of life. 

It was at this point where I lost a sense of my cultural identity.  I spoke less Punjabi, I made friends with more Caucasian people, and whilst I still saw my grandparents on the weekends, I felt like there was a disconnect there. I was losing the language, and I didn’t have the will to maintain it. I remember thinking at the time that my culture was silly and it was cringe. I listened to Asian-Network with my mum, and I still do, but I never felt connected to my culture in comparison to when I was young. I used to see so many of my cousins – some of them being more traditional i.e. spoke the language – dressed in Indian attire and ate Asian food, whilst others were more westernised, but I felt this odd sensation surrounding my culture. It felt like there was nobody I could relate to, as one side of me was very Westernised and the other craved for somebody to share my Asian culture with. 

That was until I moved to University. It was very weird at first going to Liverpool, especially when coming from such a small city,  but I loved it. When I first met up with Asian students, I was surprised as I had never interacted with many Asian people before (disregarding my family). I did have some Asian friends previously, but the majority of my friendship group was white, so when coming to Liverpool I had a completely different experience. My confidence grew. I now have many more Asian friends within my circle and I’m so happy that I have people around me that I can connect and interact with, and discuss anything surrounding our culture, like 90s Asian movies and songs!

Growing up has made me realise that I CAN talk to my white friends about Asian movies and songs without it feeling cringey – it was all in my head once upon a time. There are so many things I regret not doing when I was younger; but one of main things I regret the most was not learning the Punjabi language. At my secondary school, a teacher pointed out to me that I should take the time to learn as many languages as possible as you don’t want to regret anything, which could help you communicate with your loved ones. I regret not learning/maintaining the language purely due to not having a connection with my grandmother/grandfather who have since passed away. However, I personally think it’s too late for me now, even though my mother still tries to teach me words in Punjabi. Since the passing of my grandparents, there is no reason to maintain the language. Myself and my cousins communicate in English and I do not see my Punjabi relatives often.

While I did teach my white friends’ numbers in Punjabi, which I thought was very cool at the time, I felt like moving to the outskirts of Wolverhampton really made me question my Indian heritage at times and subconsciously made me believe (at times) that I was ‘white’ as that’s what me and my friends used to say ‘she’s the whitest brown person I know’. While in my head I was white, on the outside, I was visibly brown. If I stayed in the centre of Wolverhampton, maybe I would’ve accepted my Indian heritage more, and not resented myself and my Asian roots.

I’ll be moving to London in a few months, and I believe that it will provide me with a new chapter to explore that side of me and to make more friends who are like me – a Westernised Asian. 

Someone who embraces both their cultures.