Like many of you reading this, I, too, am a child of South Asian immigrant parents. Many of our stories begin with our parents choosing to move across the world for a better life for their children. For me, my parents each came here separately before meeting one another.
Although it could be argued that my parents didn’t put everything on the line to improve their children’s lives, in the process of moving to a new country, they allowed their kids to be born with an abundance of privilege and opportunity. At the same time, their moving here also meant they left behind a life of family, friends, and careers.
Moving to Canada meant not being able to carry over their job titles, qualifications, or salaries. It meant they had to either invest more time and money to requalify themselves or accept themselves the way their new country saw them. This is where the guilt stems from.
I was raised with love and the freedom to express myself. I can openly complain about some guy at school who tried to get me to join his pyramid scheme without being shamed for speaking to boys. I can lightheartedly retaliate to my mom’s complaints about having to pick me up from the train station with “Well, you chose to have kids!” without worry that I will be yelled at for being disrespectful.
When it came time to choose what I wanted to study in university, I pursued a sociology degree. I will admit my degree choice is not very conventional, especially for a South Asian kid. However, I chose it and was supported in my decision.
Both of my parents had the opportunity to go to university. I am the child of an electrical engineer and an economist. I am also the child of parents who didn’t attempt to narrow my vision into choosing between two or three career paths. I was taught the value of education but was never told to do something simply because it would give my parents something to brag to their friends about. Despite this, I still feel guilty.
It’s possible that if I had followed the expected desi kid university pipeline, I would feel like I deserve to have access to the education and resources that I do. Maybe the thousands of dollars in student loans and grants, as well as access to libraries, connections, and job portals, would feel well-deserved. Perhaps if I were on the path to becoming an engineer or a doctor, I would feel more connected to my parents and the experiences of other first-generation South Asian Canadians. Instead, I am a sociology major with an open-ended career plan, worries about the future, and a desire to know what comes next.
I know my parents have had to face the struggle of coming to a country that does not acknowledge their qualifications. I wonder if I’m doing enough to make the most of the privileges I have that they have been stripped of.
I also often think about all the other people in the world who would do anything to be in the position I was in when applying to university. Not needing to think too much about money and living situations when deciding on my major and the university I wanted to attend was an immense privilege I had.
I could afford to go to university without a specific plan in mind about my future, nor the need to work as much as possible to cover my tuition fees. I didn’t need to think about eventually reaching an income level that could bring my family out of poverty or debt. Instead, I only needed to worry about what I wanted.
I recall a conversation I had with my mom about my cousin in Pakistan. I met her a few years prior and heard her talk about wanting to become a nutritionist, food scientist, or engineer. My mom explained to me that she ended up going on to study English, not because she changed her mind but rather because her family couldn’t afford to finance her ambitions. She took the more affordable route and settled on pursuing English and working towards becoming a teacher.
Many aspects of our lives are not in our control, including the family we belong to, the money we come from, and the privileges the country we live in offers us. Perhaps, had my cousin been in the same situation I was in a few years ago, she would have been pursuing her dreams. How great would it be for her to live that life?
There are so many spaces that are men-dominated or men-centered that women, including first-generation South Asian women, are entering. They are making groundbreaking discoveries and changing narratives. They are bringing attention to medical research that lacks knowledge about women’s bodies and minds and reminding young girls that they can be scientists, astronauts, and engineers, too. They are finding ways to prove their capabilities and find success in a world that doesn’t see them as capable.
I often think about all the kids I went to high school with. Many of them were South Asian and went on to pursue education and careers in STEM. I don’t know if they all followed their dreams or that of their parents. However, I wonder if they are satisfied in knowing that they are living out the dreams of others.
They are taking advantage of their opportunities and privileges, which many others are deprived of. They are making a change in the world. They are giving their parents reasons to boast to their friends. They are making their immigrant parents’ sacrifices and hardships worth it, but maybe I am as well.
Although I may not be sure what I am doing, I get out of bed every day and try my best. I make efforts to be kind and try new things. I use my education to grow my knowledge and that of my friends. Although I may not see it yet, I know that I can also make a difference. I, too, can be the South Asian child of immigrants representation others hope to see. I can make my parents proud and make their sacrifices worth it.
I’m not on the path to becoming a doctor or an engineer, but I don’t think that means I don’t deserve the opportunities and resources that come my way. Realistically, we can’t all be doctors and engineers. The world needs sociologists, journalists, writers, and artists. Being a liberal arts student tends to be associated with a lack of direction or ambition. However, I don’t see anything wrong with choosing to study something simply because it intrigues you. Not having a specific career plan or having one that others may not see as impressive or groundbreaking is not a sign of weakness. Rather, it is a sign of choice.
First-generation children of immigrants are given the privilege of choice. Having the courage to choose is enough to make the sacrifices of our parents worth it. Choosing what direction we’d like to head in pays justice to those who don’t have the ability to choose. Whatever we decide to be, I hope we continue to inspire others to choose. Whether doctors, engineers, teachers, entrepreneurs, writers, or sociologists, I hope we can all find reasons to get out of bed every morning and make a difference. I hope we can raise, teach, and support the coming generations of children like us to do great things, even if some people don’t think those things are so great.