We must do something when we have the power to do so

“If you know something is morally reprehensible, then it is your moral obligation to stop it as soon as possible. “

Jane Velez-Mitchell

I have the opposite of a photogenic memory.  I have trouble memorizing, or even remembering details, names, and people.  But despite that, there are random things throughout my life that I have memorized.  Those things that I’m not even “recalling,” they’re just always there at the tip of my brain.

I love to sing. It’s therapeutic; it’s a creative expression; it somehow allows me to be completely present while getting lost in memories tied to songs.

The first “non-kid” song I remember memorizing, learning every lyric, and became permanently lodged into my brain was I’m proud to be an American by Lee Greenwood.  I learned it for an audition in third grade to get into an enriched music program, which at the time was a big deal to me.  I didn’t pick the song, my mom did. I loved every one of the countless hours I practiced that song with my mom, and my audition was a success as I got into the program. And since then, that song has been a part of me. Not just because it brings me back to those memories, but because I also love America.  I love the opportunity it gave both of my parents, who weren’t born here. I love that it has allowed me to be fortunate, grow, and live in a way that I don’t know I would be able to in another country.

A friend of mine recently publicly shared how proud she is of who she is, her heritage, her bi-racial ethnicity, her family.  She shared the confidence she has for herself was, at a young age, instilled in her by her parents.  It struck me, because I feel so privileged that the same kind of self-worth I have for myself was ingrained in me by my parents.  The same type of self-esteem and pride that I hope to instill within you, for you.

But this morning in the shower, as I was getting lost in the songs I was singing, I had a physical reaction as I, through routine, started singing I’m proud to be an American.  I stopped five words into the chorus. I couldn’t finish singing the sixth word.

At that moment, I tried to reconcile my feelings. There were two competing feelings: disappointment in the America that I love, and fear.

Why the fear? Despite being born here, despite being nothing short of 100% American, I know that as a person of South Asian descent, if I criticize America, a natural response for too many people my country is to tell me to “go back to” one that is foreign to me.

And as I reconciled that realization, those emotions faded, and defiance was all that was left. Even needing to think about holding back my feelings. To be scared of fellows Americans questioning my eligibility, my belonging, my right to be here is everything wrong with my country.

I am an American, but at this moment, and in so many others over the years, I am not proud to be one.

But it doesn’t have to be that way, because I, we, are part of this country, despite what anyone says. We have the power to do something.  We, as Americans, are obligated to defend the rights, humanity, and the people of this country.

Most of the time, I’m writing about how I can support you, but even though you will experience racism, you are fortunate for the mild racism you will experience.  It doesn’t dismiss the pain that you will feel or the pain that I have felt at the hand of racism, but we must contextualize our pain compared to others.  Right now, others need us. In the future, others will need us. I need to do more to help our black friends and even our non-friends, because we are all humans and deserve to be treated fairly.

I have a crushing feeling that when you are old enough to read this, more will be needed. Learn what you can do, and when you can, do something to help too. Anything. Everything you can.

In the meantime, until I die, I will do what I can too.

To be seen

"There is nothing more daring than showing up, putting ourselves out there and letting ourselves be seen"

Brene Brown

Another very special post from your mom:

I'm writing this to you on my last Valentine's Day before becoming a parent and it seems especially appropriate because to me this holiday should never have been about just hearts, chocolates and flowers. If anything it should be a time to express gratitude for all the people in your life that you love whether that's romantic relationships, family or friends and to focus on what that love means, not just one day of the year but every day after.

One of the greatest acts of love and trust is to allow someone to see you, really see you at your worst and accept you anyway. For me, that person is your dad and he has brought so much joy into my life by not just accepting my flaws but loving me more for them.

This is a gift we hope you will give us, allowing us to see the full picture of who you are and understanding that showing us your imperfections won't make us love you any less, in fact it will make us love you more.

We hope you will learn a lesson that hasn't come so easily for me which is that you can trust others with your heart and you can trust that even if you do get hurt or make a mistake, you will have been a better and braver person for it. By allowing yourself to push past the discomfort and fear and truly be seen, you will open up a world of possibilities. And if you do get hurt, know that we will be there to catch you when you fall.

At the end of the day, the greatest message we hope to impart is that the first step towards being vulnerable and brave is to truly love yourself. This is something that you and I will be learning together as it is a daily challenge to remind myself that perfection is not the goal, but authenticity is.

Don't just highlight your strengths, embrace your weaknesses and understand that everyone has them. It is first and foremost your job to love yourself, not just in spite of them but because of them and because they make you who you are. And once you are able to truly see yourself from every possible angle, and love yourself more because of it, that will be the greatest gift of all.

The power of perspective

“One moment the world is as it is. The next, it is something entirely different. Something it has never been before.”

Anne Rice

On February 19th, 2016, when you were still seven weeks from being born, I thought was going to die.  It was a sensation I had never felt before, and even thinking about it now haunts me.  

The sensation was debilitating. Completely overwhelming my body and mind.  I could feel my heart beat through every part of my body.   Simultaneously crushing my chest inward, while seemingly being ripped out of it. It caused me to be delirious. My mind was in full tailspin, circling uncontrollably.  

For someone who has never been afraid of dying, I was beyond terrified.  In bed, I lied completely and utterly still to try to calm myself.

Let's rewind to weeks prior, where I had first started feeling "heart palpitations."  I didn't really know what they were, but I had been having light chest pains.  Mind you, I am not a "healthy person."  I am significantly overweight and previously diagnosed with both high blood pressure and high cholesterol.  And while the chest pains were concerning, they were often short lived, non-severe, and given everything that was happening in life at the time, they were inconveniently timed.  I told myself that there wasn't enough time to worry about this with everything happening at work, trying to prepare for what became a maddening move, and also managing the deceptively ambiguous "parenthood preparation."

Spoiler alert if/when you ever become a parent: preparing for parenthood is like trying to do a "color-by-numbers" piece of art but being told the picture will be completely ruined if you pick the wrong hue of blue. But the instructions just say "blue" and then you are handed the below:

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"Blue"

Oh yeah. And you don't even know what you are coloring... and there are a thousand people making a case for each damn crayon. And then you have to do the same thing for every other color. It's so much fun.

Fast-forward back to Friday, February 19th. I walk out of one of the most infuriating meetings of my career, and then the above sensation starts.  Yes, this started at work.  I knew I was upset, I knew that my heart was racing, I knew I couldn't focus.  And while I had never felt heart palpitations of this intensity in the past, it was always short-lived, so I did what any stupid person would do: nothing.  It only got worse as the the afternoon turned to evening and only partially subsided about eight hours after that meeting.

The next day, your mom and I started out early, looking for a place to live due to the unexpected move I previously mentioned.  And after hours of visiting places and having absolutely no luck, my heart began to race again.

That afternoon we had planned to go to a baby class (all about how to take care of you!).  We had a lengthy discussion that it might be best for me to go home and rest given what had happened the day before, but this class was important.  We ended up going to the class and when we walked in, the nurse/teacher smiled cheek-to-cheek and said "I'm so glad you guys are here, I know you guys have a lot going on with your move."

Her statement made me pause.

Because while she somehow knew that the timing of the class wasn't as convenient as it seemed when we signed up weeks before, she vocalized our prioritization of why we were there that day.

I replied with appreciation and let her know that despite what was going on with the move (and what she didn't know had happened at work), there was nothing more important than our family and being at that class, learning to be good parents, was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

This might not seem powerful to you.  You are probably thinking, "...you didn't already know that?" But the truth is, while I knew it, I had lost sight of it.  And until that moment, I was lost in the meaningless and trivial.

But the second my perspective shifted back to what is most important to me in life, my chest pains stopped.  It was like someone flipped a switch and everything changed.  The stress and anxiety that had plagued me for the previous two days ceased.  And to think, all it took was some perspective.

As much as I wish it wouldn't, at some point life is going to get rough.  And in those moments, I would implore you seek perspective.  Whether it is understanding a new perspective, or in my case, remembering an old one, understanding an experience's relationship to your values and beliefs can completely shift your interpretation of said experience.  Seemingly monumental objects can become minuscule and vice versa. Seemingly insurmountable odds can become attainable. 

And I'll end this by reminding you that while you might perceive this to be easy and unnecessary, it is entirely too easy to lose your perspective.  Because while I was fine by that Saturday night, the following Monday morning I was visiting the emergency room.  But that is a story for another day.