My In Between: A diversity story

I’ve seldom dared to lay bare this chapter of my life, even in candid conversations with friends, coaches, or in the sanctuary of familial dialogue. Yet, recent tumults have dredged up the old, festering wounds. I am South African, born in a land of stunning landscapes marred by a turbulent history. Still, I see the beauty in our people, in our rich tapestry of cultures, and in our nation. I chose to move to Europe, believing it the wisest course for my two young children, to shield them from the rampant crime plaguing my homeland. As an expatriate, I’ve had to rebuild my life from the ground up. Gone are the sprawling 1,500 square meter properties and other luxuries that the European economy renders elusive. For three years, we have immersed ourselves in the local culture, language, and way of life, a journey both daunting and exhilarating. My teenagers revel in a newfound freedom, experiencing a life richer and more varied than what I could have permitted back home. I have lived in awe.

However, diversity and humanity have revealed themselves to me in novel, disquieting ways. The local tongue remains a formidable barrier despite my earnest efforts. I am Indian, but not from India, and I do not speak Hindi. I am not European, and though I might fumble with cultural nuances, I respect and cherish the values of those I engage with. Yet here, I am often asked, "What are you?" I long to reply, "Human," but instead I say, "South African." This, however, invites confusion—"Aren't South Africans only black?" I’ve faced baffling questions about why my children do not speak Catalan, as if their linguistic skills were of paramount concern to others.

Recently, I was told, with a sneer, that I am not European. The sting of this remark ignited a smoldering rage within me. As a South African, I grasp the essence of diversity and the insidious nature of bias. My husband, who passes for European but is Afrikaans, in his loving yet perplexed way, admitted he could never fully comprehend my pain. I wept in his arms, recounting a memory from when I was ten.

I was an swimmer and had trained tirelessly for six months, rising at dawn and diving into the ocean at dusk, to prepare for a swimming gala. On the day of the event, a man loomed over my coaches and declared we were barred from the pool, My coach later explained it was not our fault; non-whites simply weren't allowed to swim in the same pool lest we contaminate the water.

This was not my first brush with apartheid’s cruelty. When the bans were lifted, my family ventured to a new commercial center. My father parked our car in an empty lot and stepped out to find a store, leaving us waiting inside. Suddenly, a man wielding a bat shouted at my father, calling him a "coolie," a vile slur for South African Indians. My father shouted back, and I, in the back seat, wept in terror for him. He was as helpless as we were, forced to protect us without escalating the danger.

Such experiences forge an understanding of diversity that transcends mere perspective. True understanding is borne of lived experiences, not social media declarations.

On the 21st June 2024, I prepared to return home to South Africa, I knew I would be met with awe for our global adventures, a beautiful life for which I am profoundly grateful. Yet, in the in-between, I am not wholly seen as South African. Yes, I am loved and not questioned about my identity, but now referred to as the "Spanish". I grappled with belonging.

I have taken to write this piece allowing myself time for introspection. It is here, in this sacred inner space, that I grasp a spiritual truth: I am a child of the universe. This realization brings a profound sense of peace. I see that the struggle for identity and belonging is but a reflection of our deeper, universal quest for meaning and connection. Every slight, question of "What are you?" becomes an opportunity to reaffirm my connection to something larger, something eternal. It is a reminder that I am part of a vast, intricate tapestry woven by the universe, where each thread, each life, holds value and purpose.

In understanding this, I find that my experiences, no matter how painful or isolating, are part of a greater narrative of growth and awakening. The hurtful memories of apartheid, the confusion and stereotyping in Europe—all these are threads in the fabric of my existence, teaching resilience, compassion, and an unwavering commitment to my own truth.

My own truth! Its liberating to say those words again. I no longer seek to fit neatly into predefined categories; instead, I embrace the fluidity of my identity. I am South African, I am Indian, I am a global citizen, and above all, I am a being of light, purpose and love.

As I journeyed back to Spain, I carried with me this lesson: It is in recognizing and honoring our unique place in the universe that we find true peace and fulfillment. It is in this realization, I find the strength to navigate the in-between spaces of my life, knowing that I am always, unequivocally, at home in the vast ,boundless embrace of life. True belonging is found not in the acceptance of others, but in the acceptance of oneself.

"True belonging doesn't require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are." ~ Brené Brown.