I Am…
Indo-Caribbean. I am South Asian. I am a Native New Yorker. I am Indian. I am Guyanese. I am American. I am a girl from Queens.
I’ve struggled with my identity for as long as I can remember. I’m Indo-Caribbean because my parents are immigrants from Guyana. I’m South Asian since my great-great-grandparents came from there. I’m American because I was born in Queens, New York. Again and again, I have to answer questions about where I’m from or which box to check on forms. My identity feels complicated, especially when people start asking questions. Coming to terms with it has never been easy.
The hardest part is feeling pressured to choose just one identity. I have felt lost, unsettled, or invisible while navigating these different communities, yet never fully accepted by any. The hardest part is often the pressure to choose just one. I wish people would realize how difficult and hurtful it is to be asked to pick a single piece of myself. My own inner conflict with my identity has shaped how thoughtful and understanding I am as I strive to accept each aspect of me. To see the beauty in accepting my own differences and belonging to more than one story. It doesn’t make sense that I have to be one or the other.
I know many Indo-Caribbean people, including myself, who have been judged or treated as outsiders by other South Asians. I’ve experienced this from friends, partners, adults, and even shopkeepers in my favorite neighborhoods. Both Indo-Caribbean people and South Asians sometimes remind me that I don’t fully belong to either group. I can’t speak Hindi or Urdu, but I love listening to Bollywood music. People often ask if I understand the lyrics. I don’t, but I still enjoy the music, and sometimes I learn the meaning after watching the movie with subtitles.
A strange sense washes over me – does speaking Hindi make me truly South Asian? Can’t I enjoy the music, sing along, and dance without being questioned, “Are you Indian, are you South Asian?” In those moments, I panic that I’m not fully Indian. I’m mixed, but that doesn’t sit completely well either. But why do I have to define myself so strictly? Sometimes people even lecture me, saying Indo-Caribbean families don’t have strong values, or that our music and food aren’t “real” Indian, that we copied, or that we’re too different. I spiral, feeling this gaping hole around my identity, my culture, my worth, my heritage, my status, my values, and sometimes even my religious beliefs.
“Where are you from?” is a question that should be so simple, but it fills me with dread. Often, when I am solo traveling, I am asked this only so my answer can vary. Do I play it safe and say New York/ American? Or do I go into the depths and explain that I’m Guyanese? But it would be so much easier just to say I’m Indian or South Asian. That’s easily understandable. When I say I’m Indo-Caribbean and my parents are from Guyana, people often ask, “What’s that? Where is Guyana?” Then I end up giving a quick history lesson about the British Empire and how they forced thousands of Indians to the Caribbean to work on sugar cane plantations. People usually respond, “Oh, so you’re Indian, I knew it.” That answer doesn’t feel right either. It makes me angry and frustrated that someone can ignore the complicated history I just explained.
I understand the taste and bitterness of shame—being rejected by someone who looks like you but isn’t you. Indo-Caribbean people are descendants of South Asians, mainly from Indian indentured laborers brought to the Caribbean by the British during the 19th and early 20th centuries. Most came from places like Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Tamil Nadu, and Bengal. The British brought these laborers to their colonies under what was supposed to be a voluntary system, but in reality it often meant coercion, deception, and exploitation. They signed contracts to work for a set time but were often taken advantage of. Many couldn’t return home because travel was expensive; they were pressured into new contracts or faced unfair laws that limited their rights and opportunities. As a result, many stayed in the colonies, either by choice or because going back wasn’t possible.
From the 1830s to the early 1900s, during the indenture period, laborers struggled to stay in touch with their homeland. Many Indo-Caribbean people struggled to keep their traditions alive, often having to give them up to survive. Colonial rule made it even harder, as British authorities and plantation owners forced European laws, education, and economic systems onto them. Over time, many traditions, languages, religions, and other cultural practices faded as Western education and English became the main language. It’s always been hard to keep knowledge and culture alive under colonial rule and oppression. Many South Asians also lost their culture, traditions, and opportunities under British rule.
Over time, Indo-Caribbean people developed a unique culture. The first indentured laborers brought Indian customs, but later generations shaped their identity through migration, hard work, and adapting to life in the Caribbean. Many worked alongside Africans, Europeans, Chinese, and Indigenous people, which influenced Caribbean music, food, and daily life. People adapted recipes to the new climate and available ingredients, using things like coconut milk, scotch bonnet peppers, chickpeas, tamarind, and tropical fruits. The mix of Chinese and Caribbean cuisine gives us Guyanese-Chinese food that tastes so bomb; the cassareep flavor introduced into the dishes creates a powerful, addictive taste. Mixing Indian rhythms and instruments with African and Caribbean styles led to music like Chutney and Soca. Honestly, these are some of the reasons I’m proud to be Indo-Caribbean or Guyanese. I come from a beautiful mix of cultures that shaped who I am. Being born in Queens, New York, also showed me the immigrant side of America, and that makes me proud to be American too.
The legacy of migration, hardship, and adaptation is part of my family’s story. This history influences how I see my own identity today. It’s a part of my identity – without it, I wouldn’t have grown up with the unique cultural blend. It shows a pattern of survival and struggle where my ancestors created this blend of culture: Indo-Caribbean. It is the culture I grew up with, and because of this complex history, it makes sense why I sometimes feel caught between worlds. My forebears made sacrifices, and it fills me with pride, even when others question my belonging.
Intersectionality helps explain how different social identities come together to shape someone’s experience. The theory covers much more, including how it relates to discrimination and privilege. When I first learned about it, I realized how important it was for me. With all my identities, I stand at a crossroads. I don’t have to choose just one—I can be all of them. After therapy, I finally understood that it’s okay to be all these things at once. I am South Asian. I am Guyanese. I am American. I am Indo-Caribbean. I am a native New Yorker. I am a Queens girl. I am myself, and I don’t have to pick just one. I don’t need to fit into a single box. I don’t have to have grown up in Guyana or South Asia to claim my identity. I don’t need to explain. I am one, and I am all.
