Lost in Translation
Intergenerational Estrangement
Fitting in is a luxury rarely given to immigrants, or children of immigrants. We are stuck in emotional purgatory. Home, somehow, is always the last place you left, and never the place you’re in. ― Scaachi Koul, One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter.
The above quote, wise as it is, leaves out the reality that not fitting in also happens within immigrant families (and in families with adopted children). And, not fitting in is a dynamic phenomenon that presents new challenges at each life stage. When immigrants and their adult children become estranged from each other, or as happens more often, experience emotional distance, both generations pay the price by feeling unrooted, isolated, disrespected, and misunderstood.
A composite of a mother-daughter relationship illustrates the challenges.
Generation Zero: Preeti
Preeti is a retired accountant who lives in the American Midwest. She immigrated to the US in the 1970s. Her daughter Meena, son-in-law, and granddaughter live about twenty miles away.
When Preeti got an opportunity to learn a new craft, she immediately thought of her granddaughter Maya. How nice it would be, she thought, to make a little stuffed bunny rabbit for the five-year-old. Since the little girl loved animals, this would be a meaningful gift for her. The little fist-sized bunny rabbit was sure to strengthen her bond with Maya, especially since Preeti didn’t get to spend much time with Maya since she started kindergarten and Meena started a new high-profile job in a tech firm.
Preeti allowed herself to dream that, in a couple of years, Maya might want to learn from her grandma how to make some stuffed animals of her own. The little handmade gift would bring gifts of love and purpose into Preeti’s lonely life. There was no discernible downside.
Even so, before starting the project, Preeti thought it best to check with Meena. Experience had taught her that it would not be a good idea to just go ahead and give a spontaneous gift to Maya. Meena had firm ideas about the right way of raising her daughter. She was certain, single-minded, and disciplined.
Unfortunately, Meena immediately shot the idea down. “Maya has too much stuff as it is,” Meena asserted. “We don’t want her to be materialistic and environmentally unaware.” And that was that.
A slew of words flooded Preeti’s mind. “But this would be a gift made by me, her beloved grandma. It is small, far from an expensive, plasticky, flashy, electronic toy.” But she swallowed the words.
Her mind flew to her own childhood in a small town in post-independence India. Her father had been a schoolteacher and her mother a homemaker. Between their three children and his elderly parents, it was a full little house. Although they were not poor, there was no money for frivolities and fancies. She had only ever owned one doll, and that was a hand-me-down from her just-married older sister. How she had loved it! To make it feel new, her grandmother had fashioned frocks (as dresses were then called in India) for the doll from scraps of her own well-worn saris.
And then she thought of Meena’s childhood in America. Having no family nearby, she and her husband had sacrificed and pinched pennies to provide for Meena — not just her needs, but her wants as well. They had wrapped multiple gifts to put under the Christmas tree — yes, they had observed the fun parts of Christmas despite not being Christians — so the kids would not miss the numerous gifts that their peers received from grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Yes, it had probably been somewhat extravagant. Yes, maybe they had spoiled their children. But it had been for a noble purpose.
Hearing Meena’s objections, Preeti decided to drop the idea of the handmade gift. She did not want to upset Meena, and she did not want to risk Meena’s silence and distance. Since her husband Govind’s death a couple of years back, she had become very dependent on Meena. Not financially of course, but emotionally and even spiritually. The big house echoed with the sound of her soft footsteps and the only interruptions were the occasional phone calls from some of her friends and from Meena.
She would like Meena to share more of her life with her, to tell her about her work, her colleagues, in-laws, and neighbors; to get together once a month or so for dinner or to celebrate holidays like Diwali together. She would like Meena to show regard for her age and wisdom, seek advice, reminisce about old times, and express gratitude. How different her life would be if her daughter were to express sympathy and create space for the mother to reflect on her life journey. But none of these were on offer. As things stood, Preeti felt like a useless appendage from Meena’s evolutionary past.
Preeti realized with a shock that these were all conversations that she wished she could have had with her own parents. Maybe, she mused, Meena doesn’t do these things because she never got to experience such emotionally rich and engaged relationships. She wondered if her current arid life was yet another price of the decision to immigrate — paid by her and, to an extent, by Meena as well.
Generation One: Meena
As for Meena, her life is hectic filled as it is with her job and family. Weekdays pass by in a blur of work, schedules, and activities. Weekends are the time to unwind, recharge, and reconnect with her husband and daughter. She knows her mother would like nothing more than to spend time with them, but she just cannot muster the energy and enthusiasm. It feels like another obligatory item on her to-do list.
The fact is that she still resents her parents, especially her mother, for their authoritative ways. They had demanded that she study hard, of course. Even a single B- was cause for anger. They did not let her be like her peers when it came to choice of clothes, dating, watching popular television shows, or sleeping over at her friends’ houses. Instead, there were the weekly visits to the temple and hours of worship. Not only was she never able to fit in, but she had also not made a single close friend all through high school.
College was better, but that was because she figured out how to beat her parents at their own game. She worked so hard that she earned high scores in all subjects. Her shining resume paid off. When she received a full scholarship from a college on the East coast, she was thrilled as were her parents. She saw it as escape, while they saw it as a just reward for perseverance, a validation of their strict ways.
In college, she managed to ace all her courses, while also doing the things that she had been denied — she ate non-vegetarian food, drank and partied, went on lots of dates, pierced her nose… you name it. She felt like the ugly duckling who realizes that she is actually a beautiful swan.
She knew that her parents would want her to marry a “nice Indian boy.” But she was determined to never get sucked back into the quagmire. When her Korean study partner finally proposed to her, she knew she had found her home. Adopted by Caucasian parents as a baby, he had his own version of trauma and disconnect. He feels she had it easier and she feels that he did. They are a matched pair with each one perfectly fitting the other’s broken places.
Of course, her parents were not happy that she was not marrying an Indian. But by then they had moderated their expectations and had begun to understand that they no longer had much say. Indeed, albeit too late, they had accepted that if they wanted any relationship with her at all, they would need to give her space.
While she understands how hard her parents worked, how unsupported and vulnerable they were, and how hard they tried to understand the pressures she felt — both within their home and in the community — she continues to feel bitter about their rigidity and lack of understanding or sympathy. She knows that her career and life success are a direct result of her parents’ high expectations of her educational achievements. But she is unable to go the distance and actually express gratitude.
Since becoming a mother, Meena has felt fierce love for her daughter and the intense desire to protect and nurture her. She has already had some battles with little Maya on clothes and food preferences and so has gotten a taste of the challenge of dealing with a willful child. But all that is just not enough to overcome the years of hurt and shame that her parents made her feel.
Wounds experienced when we are the most vulnerable have the power to keep wounding us, long after we have overcome the vulnerability.
So, Meena stumbles along as best as she can when it comes to her mother. She communicates by text message and avoids phone calls. She checks in on her mother’s health and makes sure her car, electronic devices, and appliances are in working order. She avoids thinking about how she will handle her mother’s gradual aging and related infirmity.
It is nice that her mother is always available as a backup babysitter for Maya. She even appreciates the fact that Maya always has a great time with her mother and is reluctant to return.
Meena is the most dutiful daughter — at a distance.
Breaking the cycle
For adult children, a mark of being a true grown-up is that we are able to see our parents, not merely as the all-powerful authority figures from our childhood memories, but as individuals in their own right — flawed, yes, but also vulnerable and courageous. When we are able to see them as subject to social and cultural forces and to the vagaries of fate — all beyond their control — it becomes possible to feel compassion for them. This can, in turn create a willingness to act with consideration and generosity of spirit.
Another point of growth is for adult children to allow that their parents did the best they could within the constraints of their abilities and resources. After all, all good intentions notwithstanding, no parent is ever deemed perfect by their children. A corollary is that in a couple of decades their own children might judge them just as they are now judging their own parents. This can be an additional reason to be intentional (strategic) about modeling behaviors and attitudes towards their parents that they would want their own children to learn.
As for the immigrant parents, even though many feel that they have no options, it is possible to find meaning and purpose, fill the emptiness, and craft a new identity on one’s own.
Creativity. Write, draw, paint, dance, play music, travel. Dabble. Reclaim passions of the “girl (or boy), interrupted” that were put aside in favor of more urgent priorities. Find others who share the same or similar creative passions — they can become the neglected parent’s new tribe.
Volunteering. Be of service to others. Thanks to the internet, it is possible to teach a child or worker in the next town over or in a town on the other side of the globe from the comfort of one’s home.
Be a grandparent or companion to a grandparent-less child. Many children are geographically separated from their grands. Be their local grand.
Building bridges across generations
Building bridges across the beliefs and memories that wound or alienate is a worthwhile exercise. The words of J.W. Freiberg, author of “Surrounded by Others and Yet So Alone” can become a new touchstone — while parents and children make a family, it takes grandparents to create a lineage.
Ultimately, it is a matter of deciding that present-day relationships between the three generations are considerably more important than past discord. Indeed, it is a sign of emotional maturity and emotional intelligence to not let past hurts have the last word. The grandchildren can be the catalysts in this process because their very existence, together with their cuteness and their utter helplessness, has the power to promote healing by activating the better angels of everyone’s natures. They expand the circle of love and trust, with them at the center. Together the three generations develop strong bonds and the magic power to multiply joys and divide worries through sharing and shared caring.
The past is past, but the present is a present and, if used thoughtfully and with intention, it is a present that can birth a future that is as good as our dreams. There is no time like the present to start a new chapter in the book that is the family story.
Further Reading/Viewing
Screen
Meet the Patels (2014) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2378401/
ABCD (2019) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10348516/
Never Have I Ever (2020) https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10062292/
Honoring Your Parents Is the Hardest Commandment by Rabbi Angela Buchdahl:
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Bend It Like Beckham
Articles
https://www.drjoshuacoleman.com/post/a-shift-in-american-family-values-is-fueling-estrangement
https://browngirlmagazine.com/caring-for-aging-parents-and-being-south-asian/
https://hbr.org/2022/04/what-i-wish-i-had-known-about-my-mother
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/14/opinion/sunday/disobey-your-tiger-parents.html
Carolyn Hax: Mom thinks their stepdad’s death will mend rift with kids — The Washington Post
Ask Sahaj: My mom won’t vent frustrations to my dad, dumps them on me — The Washington Post
Books
“Rules of Estrangement: Why Adult Children Cut Ties and How to Heal the Conflict” by Dr. Joshua Coleman
“Mother’s Work, A Personal Reckoning with Labor, Motherhood, and Privilege,” by Megan Stack
“The Collapse of Parenting: How We Hurt Our Kids When We Treat Them Like Grown-Ups” by Leonard Sax
“Surrounded by Others and Yet So Alone” by J.W. Freiberg
“Everyday Legacy” by Cody Shewan
“Missed Translations: Meeting the Immigrant Parents Who Raised Me” by Sopan Deb
When I reflect on these issues, it seems that such inter generational quibbles started with my generation. There was always an old-versus-new tension between generations. But outright contempt seems relatively new and very western. So many cultural practices emerged from the idea that we should live to make the most of our life (as opposed to living for our next generation) that we lost the connectivity to our heritage. It pains me when I hear fellow boomers lament that their children seek so much help - financial and otherwise - to raise their own children. When in the history of humanity wasn’t that the case?
So much to digest from your references. Thanks!
"Unfortunately, Meena immediately shot the idea down. “Maya has too much stuff as it is,” Meena asserted. “We don’t want her to be materialistic and environmentally unaware.” And that was that."
Meena has learned to internalize PMC values and patterns of consumption, presumably as part of fitting in in her university and later, her job.
The irony being that PMC yuppies are themselves as materialistic and consumption obsessed as any Renaissance potentate or Mughal sultan, just that they like to dress up their materialism and consumption in virtue-signaling terms. "We have all this stuff because we're just better people, and we use this stuff in better ways because we're just better people!"
The other irony being that, although they talk incessantly about going one's own way, humans in general and the PMC in particular are herd animals to rival any lemming or sheep. This is because, unlike the rich, who live off capital which is famously indifferent to its owners and their quirks, and the working class, who live off skilled or unskilled labor and get paid as long as they show up to work on time, the PMC primarily live off of *who* they are, off of their qualifications and values. They have to be counted on not to rock the boat.
See, Paul Fussell, "Class: A Guide Through The American Status System".