baggage's Diaryland Diary

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And the conversation wasn't even forced

Almost home. The beautiful girl in front of me wears a Hindu Om around her neck. It's beautifully shaped-exotic in its color of gold and sensual in its curves and angles.
She looks of indian descent-but her clothing and makeup easily betray a western influence upon her life.
My niece once called me "whitewashed." I wasn't offended. But, the comment did remind me of how little I've retained from my own culture.
I've been in the US since I was six and I'm drenched through and through with the ways of California-the politics, the pop culture, the people, the language, the styles, the cliches. I'm sure it helps in certain respects. But, doesn't it seem tragic to lose a connection to your homeland? Your culture? I've no knowledge of our history. The language has all but vanished from my internal dictionary and I've practically no friends of shared ethnicity. And, aside from the slightly stinging pang of truth that hit with my niece's comment, I really don't feel a huge need to go and reclaim the loss. That doesn't seem right.

7:15 p.m. - 2005-11-12

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