My childhood was more star-spangled than most.
I grew up on an Army base, a tight-knit community encircled by barbed wire and ensconced in the patriotic mores of the U.S. military. Even though it was the late 1990s and early aughts, we watched reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show” on government-run television and listened to Paul Harvey on government-run radio.
My teachers were Vietnam War veterans and my friends’ parents were active duty soldiers and sailors. Nearly everyone in my community — including my dad, a civilian engineer who spent his career with the Army — dedicated their lives in some way to the service of the nation.
This explains some of my deep love of country — but it’s only part of the story.
I am also the child of immigrants. My mother is from the Philippines and my father is from India. Growing up, I had a hard time fitting in. I didn’t feel Filipino enough to hang with the Filipinos, and I didn’t know any other Indians.
It was an odd ethnic combination — a mashup of cultures and contradictions. My mother was Catholic, my father Hindu; my mom an omnivore, my dad vegetarian (at least until they met); they grew up speaking different languages, with English as the mediator. Because of my dad’s job I didn’t have any regional ties either. I moved four times — from Illinois to Japan to Georgia and back to Japan — before I was 13.
Credit: Arvin Temkar/AJC
Credit: Arvin Temkar/AJC
Bridging traditions from the old land to the new
From far across the ocean, on the Army base, I found my identity in being American. After all, America is a nation of immigrants. Where else could my parents have formed such an unlikely union?
They make rom-coms about this kind of made-in-the-USA culture clash: “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” anyone? America — with its lofty ideals and promise of a better life — was the place that made me possible.
As a photojournalist for the AJC, I wanted to mark America’s 250th anniversary with a project that celebrates the country and its people and, in particular, people like me: first-generation Americans, who have at least one immigrant parent.
I photographed a series of portraits of people wearing traditional attire from their heritage in Atlanta locations that are meaningful to them. My goal was to showcase how first-generation Americans bridge traditions from the old land and the new, while letting my participants share their experiences inhabiting this special in-between place.
Credit: Arvin Temkar/AJC
Credit: Arvin Temkar/AJC
A guiding metaphor for the project was the “American mosaic.” Like a work of art assembled tile by tile, we are built of cultures, ethnicities and ideas from around the world. First-generation Americans are uniquely positioned to understand this because they are raised American but are also often steeped in the cultures of their parents’ home countries.
My mom cooked pancit noodles and sinigang soup; spoke to me in Visayan, the dialect of her home island; and flew me abroad to visit relatives, like my uncle with the pet monkey and parrot.
Consider what unites, rather than divides, us
Even though I didn’t always appreciate my heritage when I was growing up, I’ve come to realize that it is something to be celebrated alongside my Americanness.
Credit: Arvin Temkar/AJC
Credit: Arvin Temkar/AJC
This is common sentiment among the many ethnic groups in the country: Irish Americans, for example, have turned what was once a religious holiday into a commemoration of history and culture so spectacular that even I am proud to wear green on St. Patrick’s Day.
In telling the stories of first-generation Americans I aim to highlight all Americans, because nearly everybody is descended from an immigrant — or a person who was brought here against their will. Our history is complicated and sometimes tragic, but at its best it is a testament to the qualities that inspired my parents and other immigrants to leave their homes to make a new one.
On this July Fourth, I invite readers to consider what unites us rather than what divides us. A mosaic, like these United States, is the sum of many parts — parts that, when bonded together, can uphold a vision that lasts 250 years and more.
Arvin Temkar is a staff photojournalist at the AJC.
Send letters to the editor of 250 words or fewer with your name, city or town and contact information to letters@ajc.com.
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