Deb - Missed translations: meeting the immigrant parents who raised me

Given the endless supply of S names in my family, heres a quick reference guide to keep you oriented.

When Sopan asked me to write this foreword, I was honored. The man has an impressive rsum. He has worked as a journalist for the Boston Globe, NBC News, Al Jazeera, and CBS News, where he covered Trumps presidential campaign. He then became a culture writer at the New York Times, and now hes on the NBA beat there. I want that job. Watch basketball all day, analyze it, and get paid for it? Thats the dream gig. But hes also a stand-up comedian. Thats the genius move he pulled offgetting an extremely reputable day job that his family understands and can be proud of, and then sneaking comedy into the bottom of his rsum. Brilliant.

Sopan could write about anything, but for him to choose to write about his experiences growing up brown in America to two immigrant parents is special to me. Ive always felt that the South Asian diaspora needs more of our stories being told. There are certain mythologies of growing up brown in America that we all share. I see so much of my family in Sopans storyhis fathers pride, his mothers stubbornness, his partners need to be endlessly patient and forgiving. Theres so much time spent sitting in living rooms doing nothing. So much time.

His longing to bond with his father over sports, to learn about his parents siblings, and to make his mom happy by bringing her to a Broadway show are not just immigrant sentiments, but American ones. His yearning to connect to his family is relatable on so many levels.

Sopan and I had similar upbringings. Were both kids with melanin who grew up in super white townsHowell, New Jersey, and Davis, California, respectively. We both came of age around the same time. Our parents both had arranged marriages, lived far from home and their families, and learned how to use email waaaaay after it was socially acceptable. I dont know this for sure, but I would guess we both obsessed over the same Air Jordans when we were in high school.

Nevertheless, our individual experiences are unique, nuanced, and worth sharing. But Sopan pushes his story well beyond the typical, Hey my parents wanted me to get straight As model minority narrative. He dives right into the darkest sides of South Asian culture, stuff that we only see in our living rooms, but never talk about. Depression, divorce, abuse, and betrayal are put front and center. And he does this in the gutsiest way possible: he asks his parents about it to their face.

South Asian families dont talk about their problems. Were expected to tough it out, take a nap, sweep it under the rug, and go back to work. The most therapy most of us received came from illegally downloaded episodes of The Sopranos that we watched after everyone else was asleep.

Were not equipped to handle this stuff. But Sopan goes at it head-on, like only a true journalist (and comedian) could. I genuinely hope that this book starts a conversation between family members. We need it. No more lying about our pasts. Who were dating. Why our parents are unhappy. Why we wont talk about mental health or therapy. Hes forced my hand at dealing with these issues. And if all of this is too heavy, at the very least I hope it forces some Indian uncles to tell the truth about how much money they had in their pockets when they first came to America.