by Divyaansh Raj
I am a senior from Livingston, New Jersey. I am pre-med pursuing a double major in Neuroscience and Behavioral Biology and Economics. On-campus, I serve as the president of the Student Alliance for Health Involvement (SAHI) and of Suri, a Bollywood fusion a Cappella group. Additionally, I serve as a mentor and treasurer for the Emory Pipeline Collaborative, work as a TA for Organic Chemistry and Biology, as an editor for the Emory Undergraduate Medical Review, and serve as an RA in Raoul Hall.
No time was scarier than lunchtime. I carefully unzipped my lunch box, but the intoxicating aroma of Indian masala and spices still spread through the room. My mouth watered, and my hunger grew. I couldn’t wait to dive into the lunch my mom had lovingly prepared.
I knew that my excitement wouldn’t be shared, however. As I slowly raised my eyes to look at my fellow first-graders, my stomach turned. I met their scrutinizing glares and scrunched noses and immediately knew that my food wasn’t welcome. It didn’t take long for someone to exclaim, “Who’s eating that stinky food?!” I quickly hid my lunch box, ashamed to let my friends find out that I was, in fact, the one eating “that stinky food.”
Growing up, hiding my culture did not feel like a choice, but social survival. I begged my parents to stop giving me indian food at lunch. To get rid of my accented English, I even refused to speak Hindi with my family at home. To what avail? When I went back to India to visit my extended family, I was ridiculed for my broken, accented Hindi instead.
Dumbstruck, I wanted to belong in two different worlds but felt accepted in neither. In a world filled with vibrant geographical, intellectual, and cultural diversity I was struggling to find how my own identity and perspective fitted into the mix.
My desire to figure out how I fit in with my peers manifested itself through music. Music has always been a huge part of my family’s culture and upbringing. I vividly remember my family reunions where all my cousins, uncles and aunts would sing and dance till our throats scratched and our feet hurt. As a classical violinist, I joined the New Jersey Youth Symphony and played with the group for over eight years. I realized the satisfaction I gained from music came from more than the notes on the page but from the interplay I had with fellow musicians.
Music eliminated cultural and ideological barriers and allowed me to build strong connections and relationships with my peers. In an ethnically and culturally diverse orchestra, I was able to use music as a medium to learn about different people’s backgrounds and to begin feeling comfortable sharing my own. Through the violin, I gained confidence in my identity and began to respect its complex, multi-dimensional nature.
Ultimately, my experiences as a musician helped me grow past my fears of being judged, and I have gained confidence in my identity as a first-generation Indian American. Vestigial reminders of my insecurity have helped me understand how many of my peers may still be wary of sharing their background or, even worse, ashamed of their own perspectives. As a TA and RA, I am passionate about creating educational spaces that allow students of diverse backgrounds to feel comfortable sharing their points of view–even if their beliefs are in the minority. By interacting and listening to residents and students one-on-one, I have worked to foster self-confidence in sharing and believing in their own perspectives.
If it were not for music, I would never have known that I too had the power to fit in. I believe in music as the unifier of all people and the greatest teacher I have ever known.
