My Indian Identity Took Time...  •  Chinese Student in UK Senten...  •  Trump's Ego, Economic Illite...  •  Honda's Helm.ai Challenges T...  •  Asian American Cuisines Win...  •  Budapest Shines with Grand C...  •  Filipino American JJ Spaun W...
My Indian Identity T...  •  Trump's Ego, Economi...  •  Honda's Helm.ai Chal...  •  Chinese Student in U...  •  Asian American Cuisi...
                                                             

Subscribe

Subscribe Now to receive Goldsea updates!

  • Subscribe for updates on Goldsea: Asian American Supersite
Subscribe Now

My Indian Identity Took Time But Was Worth The Wait
By Romen Basu Borsellino | 20 Jun, 2025

Growing up in one of the whitest states in the country had an undeniable impact on my relationship with Indian culture.

I. Iowa

“Sometimes I forget that you aren’t even White, Romen.”

The craziest part about what my buddy Mark said to me while we were walking home from middle school one day is that he meant it as a compliment.

But that’s just growing up in the state of Iowa as a brown-skinned Indian American. As I've gotten older and surrounded myself with close friends who aren’t just named Mark, Steven, Kyle, Jimmy, and Robert, I’ve learned that my experience in Iowa — of being more immersed in the White culture immediately surrounding me than my own family’s — is a pretty universal one for mixed-race kids. Of course, everyone’s story is unique. Living in a state that’s 90% White is certainly a major factor in mine. 

I was probably the first Indian that many of my classmates interacted with. I think back to the time my mom came to my elementary school to give a presentation about India for the entire student body. “Does anybody know any famous Indians?” she began by asking, and was pleasantly surprised to see one hand immediately shoot up. “Squanto?” asked a kid who, in all likelihood, served as a proxy for all students in attendance.

The single biggest moments of racism that stand out to me from my childhood were a reult of the perpetrators thinking I was Mexican. And the celebrity I was most commonly compared to growing up was Wilmer Valderrama, who played Fez on “That 70’s Show,” and happens to be Venezuelan and Colombian (also way hotter than me).

I’d be lying if I said that my feelings weren’t a little hurt by the lack of thoughtfulness by my bullies. Was I not important enough for them to do just a little research and tailor their jabs accordingly? If, for example, they knew about India’s rich tradition of spices, I’d hope their insults would be a little less bland. 

To clear up any confusion about my last name, I’m also half-Italian. I have been asked on more than one occasion whether I identify more strongly with my Indian or my Italian side. It’s got to be the former. While not a conscious choice, my South Asian identity is unavoidable due to my complexion. People see it and treat me accordingly (again, for better or worse).

But standing out — my skin color, my name, my height, which was about a foot shorter than my classmates — also did wonders for my personality. The feeling of constantly needing to play defense, or even deliver a preemptive strike, made me quick on my feet. I’m not talking about physically. I was and still remain a prime target for ass-kicking. Rather, I became quick with a wisecrack. Being funny helped me control the narrative. How could someone rag on me if I beat them to the punch?

II. College

I didn’t really understand the extent to which Iowa had shaped me, both for better and worse, until I went off to college. The student body at my small liberal arts school on the east coast was about half non-White. Being Brown no longer made me stand out. Ironically, it was being from Iowa that made my friends from, say Boston, New York, and San Francisco turn their heads. It was being a fan of the Dave Matthews Band and knowing what “tater tot casserole” was that earned me ridicule. 

Those fortunate enough to experience going away for college almost universally benefit from greater exposure to cultures outside their own. It’s the first time many people have friends who are, say, gay, black, hispanic (one of my best friends was all three), and, of course, Indian. I made my first-ever close Indian friend during orientation week my freshman year of college. That was 17 years ago. He’s currently my roommate. 

What college really helped me achieve — aside from, you know, knowledge and a degree and some, frankly, impressive beer chugging abilities  — was a feeling of acceptance. 

But acceptance alone wasn’t good enough. While I felt like I was never judged for my ethnicity, I still didn’t feel particularly in touch with it. Regardless of my college’s racial breakdown, it was still an elite private school in New England. That was the culture that would ultimately take precedence over any other. Preppy American was, by and large, still the culture I fit into.

That all changed when I moved to LA.

III. Hollywood

I moved to Hollywood for the same cliche reasons that most others do: I wanted to pursue comedy writing. I knew it would be tough, which it has been, but I didn’t expect the type of community I would find here.

Groups like the Coalition for Asian Pacifics in Entertainment (CAPE) more or less greeted me with open arms when I got here. They’re an organization which both makes sure that film and TV are accurately representing the AAPI community and making sure that those of us who work in the profession feel well-supported.

Some other organizations that I’ve gotten involved in, like the South Asian Writers Committee, are even more precise in their cultural focus. These groups are responsible for most of the friends I’ve made in the eight years that I’ve been here. 

There is, of course, no substitution for doing the actual work. Sitting at a computer and writing needs to be the first and second priority for any writer. But for as laborious as networking can feel, spending time with other members of my community, even in a networking setting, doesn’t feel like work. 

I’m being completely honest, my status as only a half-Indian made me a little insecure. I feared that the South Asian creatives I had become friends with in LA, my main source of community, might think I wasn’t truly one of them. On the occasions that I’ve confided it to others, that admission garnered way more judgement (and playful ridicule) than anything identity-related has ever gotten me. 

Today, it’s rare if I don’t do at least one activity a week that makes me feel in touch with my identity like viewing a South Asian film, attending a panel with South Asian creatives, or dancing to bhangra, a genre of Indian pop music. I tend to run into the same people at these events, which is awesome, though I suppose it would be even better if there were too many of us for that to happen.

While I credit the LA community with all of this, there could also be an age factor. Maybe this was bound to happen at this stage of my life, to some degree, regardless. As we get older, and so do our elders, we develop a desire to embrace our families’ traditions and keep them alive. 

Having this community has made my life better by almost every measure: It’s increased my confidence and pride and really just expanded my worldview. My roommate will constantly express shock over how I seemingly became more Indian than him overnight. 

Above all else, I am grateful that an environment that could so easily turn everyone into adversaries has done the opposite. When we hear about job opportunities, we share them with one another knowing full well that it could hurt our own chances. 

And, most importantly, if I’m ever told that I'm acting White, it isn’t necessarily meant as a compliment. 

Having this community has made my life better by almost every measure: It’s increased my confidence and pride and really just expanded my worldview. My roommate will constantly express shock over how I seemingly became more Indian than him overnight.

Articles

Asian American Success Stories