"Mum, Dad… I'm White."

Fact: The first interracial kiss on US network TV was in 1966. The show was [+ Star Trek], with [+ Nichelle Nichols] as [+ Uhura], and [+ William Shatner] as [+ Captain Kirk].

When I think of my relationship with my boyfriend and how we are with each other, skin colour, race, or cultural and religious background seems to make no difference. Yet when I was talking to my cousin last night, it hit me that for a very long time I used to rationalise myself as my cousin does.

He, my cousin, is not racist. Nor is he a homophobe. But he doesn't like the idea of having a relationship with a non-Bengali, nor does he like the idea of having a romantic relationship with a person of the same sex (I asked him, on a hunch, if he thought same-sex female relationships were ok, and he said "It's the same thing. I couldn't see myself as a woman, and liking another woman.").

I on the other hand have never had any problems considering non-Bengalis as eligible partners, nor do I see homosexuality as something that is unnatural.

It was one of the many things we ended up talking about the last time I saw him. Culture, alcoholism, religion, work, university, lifestyle, urban living, health, sports, relationships, marriage, past relationships, our parents, race and genetics were all involved in our nightlong conversation.

I used to tell myself that even though I found White men incredibly attractive, I would somehow automatically find my would-be Bengali husband attractive, simply because we were married. Now that I think about it, I told myself that so I wouldn't have to look at Bengali men and think about whether they were attractive to me or not- because... just as how homosexuals are drawn to people of the same sex, I was drawn to people of different a race. I found Bengali, or Indian-Asians, unattractive.

I suddenly find myself feeling very much as though I were a social taboo and having to tell my parents, "Mum, Dad... I'm White."

* * *

Not that I can't see beauty in brown skin. I look at my parents and I see very beautiful people. I've seen other Bengali men and thought some of them have some sort of handsome trait, but none of them were attractive- to me.

No Bengali man has ever attracted my attention, be it in a lustful or sexual sense. I've never been able to make myself look at them and convince myself that they were possible partners. I've never had a secret crush on a Bengali man. Never had a dream about being with a Bengali man. Never so much as considered a fantasy with a man who was brown skinned. All this from a girl with pure Bengali blood (- well, as pure as any Bengali would like to believe...).

And yet, I see Black men and think they are attractive. Oriental men are attractive. Mediterranean, Aboriginal, Native American and Caucasian men are attractive- to me.

So is that a cultural trait I am describing? Or habitual? Or is my total mental inability to find men with the same colour skin as my own down to my genetics??

* * *

I've often heard people describe the Bengali culture as 'backward', 'illiterate' or 'traditional'. I personally use the word 'insulated'.

I have a close Bengali friend who also- like my cousin, finds non-Bengali men unattractive. In fact she simply finds them repugnant when the idea of sexual relations is concerned. It is as though the idea of a physical relationship with someone of non-Bengali heritage is impure or unnatural.

She and I have grown up in identical surroundings- we live in the same area of town. We went to the same schools. We had Caucasian friends and virtually no Bengali friends. We both have traditional mothers and 'liberal' fathers. We've grown up isolated from the Bengali culture which thrives in London.

But she has a Bengali boyfriend and is already contemplating marriage after they get their degrees. I on the other hand have an English boyfriend and wouldn't dream of marriage until we had lived together for a while and see where things went from there.

I know she's not stupid. I know if she felt she could, she would have lived with him for a while to check things were ok. But I know and get the feeling at least, that she feels compelled or culturally obligated to marry him because that is what they are going to do anyway. I, in contrast, feel that regardless of how deeply I feel for my boyfriend, marriage isn't about a cultural obligation- it's about how he and I are planning to live the rest of our lives together. It's not about obligation so much as devotion.

Her way may have worked for countless generations, but then… I still have my doubts. I do wish her all the best- she deserves to be happy.

* * *

For the first time in my life, my parent's don't hold any sort of emotional or psychological power over my decisions or my choices. I can understand that some people may wonder or have a hard time understanding what I'm saying- it's sometimes hard to convey a life where desire was eliminated.

You know- I think this is the first time I've actually tried to explain that sort of life. Regardless, I've grown up never deciding but being decided for. It was a false perception of choice. This is rather hard to illustrate. But it is like spending your life being asked which door you're going to walk through next, rather than being asked if you wanted go through a door at all. The choices were predetermined by family, culture, peer pressure... The direction was almost always "which way will make them happy" simply because it meant less hassle. Less thought. Less chance of dissapointment.

To have my desires come to me so naturally and not have to think about whether they are 'good' or 'bad' forces me to make a double-take and re-evaluate myself. I begin to savour this act of individuality and not take it for granted. I am finally able to do things as and when I want, and not be pressured by a cultural pretext that I am something... someone else. This is now about choosing for myself, for my benefit, and not for the sake of a timeline that dictates a trophy marriage at the end.

Marriage is viewed... at least from what I have experienced in my lifetime, as something to bring prosperity to the clan or tribe. Not to the two who are united. Despite my parents heartfelt explanations to say otherwise- ultimately, I felt it was never a decision about who was best for me... but who was best for a bloodline.

My whole life I've made choices through pro's and con's to ensure I didn't disrespect or embarrass my parents. I had made a constant effort to castrate myself from my emotions, and then, when I had finally succeeded in ignoring my natural intuition and judgement- the one which told me what was right for me, I'd fallen into the trap of an unhappy marriage, and was forced to fight for divorce.

Now, I find myself making choices with a simple goal in mind: To be true to Myself and who I am.

I, like many others, have grown up competing against invisible concepts: invisible individuals who could end up becoming more prestigious, honourable or successful than myself. This doesn't exactly translate into a simple Bengali trait. Still, it is an element which is still regarded as good moral practice in the Bengali culture. There is nothing more precious, it seems, than family pride.

* * *

Choice... right up until I was 19, was all about doing that which was aesthetically pleasing.

Sometimes what I have experienced upsets me deeply. It is the realisation that for 19 years I never truthfully let myself want something. I feel sorry for myself and mostly for what I really missed out on. How easy it is to just...

People seem to take their feelings, their freedom of thought and curiosity, their natural inquisitiveness for granted so much. Being able to just let yourself want- to feel desire for a future you will achieve yourself is the most... liberating feeling.

I had never rebelled. I had never fought back, questioned or argued. I just did what I was told because that is what a good child, a good girl does.

I was a good girl.

But good, I've learnt, isn't always right.

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