Nikki Haley - Cant Is Not an Option: My American Story

My American Story

Nikki Haley

Sentinel

SENTINEL

Published by the Penguin Group

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First published in 2012 by Sentinel,

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Copyright Nikki Haley, 2012

All rights reserved

ISBN: 978-1-101-56886-6

Printed in the United States of America

Set in Bulmer MT

Designed by Spring Hoteling

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ALWAYS LEARNING

PEARSON

This book is dedicated to my amazing parents, Dr. Ajit Singh and Mrs. Raj Randhawa, who continue to teach me what it means to live my life with strength and grace. To my incredible husband, Michael, who is my hero and the reason I love my life every day. To my children, Rena and Nalin, who love me unconditionally and inspire me every day to want to be a better mom. And to my brothers, Mitti and Gogi, and my sister, Simmi, who will never know how blessed I feel to have grown up as part of the Original Six.

Chapter One

Bamberg

I am the proud daughter of Indian parents who reminded us every day how blessed we are to live in this country.

Thats how I began every speech in my campaign for governor of South Carolina. I said it because I was proudI am proudto be my parents daughter. But Ill confess: I also said it as a warning, a shot across the bow of those who thought they could make being differentmy being different or anyones being differenta disqualifying factor for leadership. I had been down this road before, and I was done with it. My parents were more American than anyone I knew. The fact that I was their daughter had made me stronger, not weaker. My opponents, I thought, might as well know that up front.

We are all, to one degree or another, reflections of our parents. This is true of me more than most. But I use the word reflection deliberately. I am only an echoan imperfect imitationof my remarkable parents. If Im tough and determined, its because of them. If I am impatient and headstrong, well, thats all on me.

My mom and dad, Raj and Ajit Randhawa, were born in the Punjab region of India. Although she lost her father very young, my mother came from a wealthy family. She lived in a six-story house in the shadow of the Golden Temple, the holiest site of the Sikh religion, to which she belongs. Because she didnt trust it anywhere else, her mother kept all of her cash in the mattress on which she slept. Mom had hired help to attend to her every need. Her clothes were custom made for her. She never had to carry her own books to school. At that time and in that place, girls typically werent educated beyond high school, but Mom went all the way through law school. She was offered the first female judgeship in India but couldnt accept it because her family didnt think it was appropriate. Women just didnt do those sorts of things.

Mom met Dad at a mountain vacation area near Dharamsala in northern India, where Indian families of means would go every summer to escape the heat. The fact that they met at all made their arranged marriage somewhat unusual. Most Indian brides and grooms never get the chance to meet before they marry. But Mom says she saw Dad and thought he was a good-looking man. My fathers father was a commanding officer in a horse-mounted regiment in the British colonial army. He was stationed all over the country, so my father lived most of the year with his uncle. I remember listening with incomprehension as a child when my dad told me he only saw his parents for two months each year, during his summer vacation.

As was customary, my moms and dads families decided their children would marry. They were, it turned out, a good match. Like her, he was Sikh, they were both from prominent families, and they were both educated, my mother with her law degree and my father with a masters degree in biology. Nineteen months after they were married, Mom had my oldest brother, Mitti, in the same house she was born in. To this day, Mitti isnt sure if his birthday is September 26 or 27, due to a delay in issuing his birth certificate, so we celebrate both days for him.

Dad wanted to complete his education with a PhD, but at the time, foreign degrees were preferred, so he chose to study at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, Canada. He left India for the new world with eight dollars in his pocket. A year later, after he had convinced his adviser they wouldnt distract him from his studies, he sent for my mom and Mitti. Coming to Vancouver was a shock for Mom. She left behind a life of privilege in which hired help performed all the household tasks. Now, not only did she have to cook and clean, but she also had to support my father while he was in school. Mom worked three jobs to support her familyat the post office, selling Avon products, and taking care of a special-needs childall while tending to Mitti and giving birth to a second child, my older sister, Simmi.

My parents left behind a lot when they left India, not just wealth and comfort but also family and friends. They knew America was a place of unlimited opportunity, and they wanted those opportunities for their children, even if it meant starting over. I know they were homesick at times for their native country. But they never ceased to remind us that it had been worth it to leave. America was a place where opportunities couldnt be bought. They knew that here, if you worked hard, you could be as successful as you wanted to be. So after finishing school in Canada, my father looked for a job in the United States. But it was 1969, a bad year to be looking for work in higher education. One day, Dad was on the phone telling a friend from back home that he was thinking about going back to India because he couldnt find work in the States. You cant go, his friend said. America is the best country in the world. The next day, my dads friend called back. The college Dads friend taught chemistry at, Voorhees College in Denmark, South Carolina, was looking for an associate professor of biology. Dad didnt know a thing about the college or where it was located, but he accepted anyway. When he told his colleagues in Vancouver that he was heading to South Carolina to teach, one of them commentedseriouslythat he might get shot before he got his first paycheck.