Rooshna Javed, often argues with her daughter over dating. Photo by Mina Sohail

A Desi is how Indians, Bengalis and Pakistanis refer to themselves, but if you were raised in America, it is common to be called an ABCD or American Born Confused Desis.

The belief among many South Asians is that Desis, who were born and raised in the United States, are alienated from their roots and more susceptible to embracing the American way of life.

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Mina Sohail reports from Jackson Heights,Queens

Hoimi Bandyopadhyay, 22, of Bombay, studies filmmaking at the New York Film Academy. She has cousins who were raised in the United States and said they are culturally more active than she is.

“My cousins living here speak Hindi, watch Bollywood movies and celebrate Hindu cultural events,” she said.

Bandyopadhyay feels that addressing someone, as ABCD is a bit derogatory as it implies that one is confused about his or her roots. She prefers to believe that the confusion for those living here is about adopting a certain lifestyle, not about one’s roots.

Strolling down the streets of Jackson Heights, Queens is like walking through a mini South Asia. Indian and Pakistani restaurants dot the streets. The streets signs are in both Hindi and English. Tag Heuer Bollywood stars tote products on billboards. Mannequins in clothing stores are draped in saris.

Sultana Tahrin, a 45-year-old housewife originally from Bangladesh, likes to bring her 10-year-old daughter, Maliha, to the stores that offer traditional jewelry, and shoes so she can foster her daughter’s interest in her native land and lessen the pull of American culture.

“I speak with my daughter in Bengali at home,” Tahrin said. “This way she will grow up in America knowing her native language as well.”

Among these restaurants is a Pakistani eatery where Rooshna Javed, a Pakistani housewife, also works there as a cashier.

Javed, of Woodside, Queens moved to New York 12 years ago. She said she has a 20-year-old daughter who wants to date outside of her culture, which she forbids. In fact, she is not allowed to date at all and would be immediately sent back to Pakistan for an arranged marriage if she disobeys.

“My daughter has made it clear to me that she does not want to marry a Pakistani man,” said Javed. “She feels that a Pakistani man will not be accepting of her western clothing and lifestyle and she will find it difficult to embrace a more conservative culture after having lived in New York for so long.”

Javed feels the threats by her husband and herself have managed to keep her daughter “in control.” They get into many arguments over dating and marriage, but Javed’s husband has made the rules clear, as traditionally done so by the men of the house in a typical Pakistani household.

However, a lot of Desis living in the United States feel more American than their parents would like to think.

Mitch Thakron came to California from India when he was six-years-old and no longer feels much like an Indian. He has embraced the American Way from the food to the clothing, but deep inside there is a place that is still very much connected to India.

“It’s the spiritual part about my culture that I want to internalize,” Thakron said. “I rebelled against it earlier, but I respect it now. I don’t think ABCD (American Born Confused Desis) applies to me. If I am going to be judged by my own people for living here, I don’t care,” he said.

Culturally there exists a vast difference between America and South Asia. In the latter region, advertisements often depict women as cooking, cleaning and serving food to their husbands. “Good housewives” are mostly shown covered from head to toe. Women are rarely shown working in the corporate world.

When Desi children are raised in America, they are exposed to a different, progressive media, and this fuels the perception gap between them and their parents. Anything too “American” is inherently in conflict with something too non Desi.

Ali Nobil Ahmad, teaches modern history at Lahore University of Management Sciences in Pakistan. He has published articles and chapters on gender, sexuality and migrant labour. Nobil said there can be a discrepancy in aspirations between generations of Pakistani or Indian Origin.

“It stems from having a different set of experiences and priorities,” said Nobil, “However, all the evidence is that generational ‘culture clash’ is a bit simplistic and assumes that the parents themselves do not evolve in the new cultural context. Most immigrant parents become more liberal over time, and their expectations are different for their first, second and third offspring.”

Ammar Khalid, 26, is an Anthropology student at Columbia University from Multan, Pakistan. After having interacted with Desis in the US, he feels the term ‘ABCD’ is irrelevant precisely because a Desi subculture exists in America now. He feels there is some truth to the fact that people who grow up in the United States mediate between conflicting values or ideals.

Ammar Khalid, a Pakistani student studying Anthropology at Columbia University. feels the term 'American Born Confused Desis is has become irrelevant. Photo Mina Sohail

“I think this idea that people who grow up here are ‘confused’ comes from the assumption that the West is modern and the East traditional, and thus people living here are exposed to conflicting values which they find difficult to reconcile,” said Khalid.

But Khalid questions how their confusion is different from one’s confusion having lived and grown up in Pakistan. He feels the distinctions between ‘modern’ and ‘traditional,’ are conflicting cultural paradigms that people are caught between.

A similar view is that of Hafsa Rahman, a 27-year-old medical student at St. George’s University in Michigan. She moved to the United States with her parents from Karachi, Pakistan when she was eight years old.

“It is more difficult to understand which culture one belongs to as that is the primary basis of confusion,” said Rahman, “I think Desi kids in general are confused in their teen and adolescent years but as they get older they learn to form their own diaspora by combining aspects of their native and present cultures.”

Rahman said she and her parents grew up in different cultures, but the difference of opinion is not merely because of a cultural gap, but more so the current times and its influences.

In the early morning hours of November 15th, New York City mayor Michael Bloomberg changed the face of Occupy Wall Street forever. Teams of police officers flooded the park, pulling protestors out of tents, sending them scrambling into the black of night, leaving in their wake the remnants of their 33,000-square-foot piece of paradise.

Before that moment Zuccotti was amorphous, a thermometer of the ever-changing scope of the Occupy Wall Street movement. In the early days, when the nights were warm and the company few, Zucotti resembled a mountain valley—a couple hundred protestors – heads resting against the cool, slick granite – dotting the otherwise open space like columbines, enveloped by the towering peaks of the financial district.

But as the movement grew, the park evolved. In true homage to Manhattan, space became a sought after commodity. Mattresses, airbeds and possessions wrapped in blue tarps turned Zuccotti into an ocean of inaccessibility; a stroll in the park was no longer an option. Tents sprang up in erector-set fashion—the domed domiciles, each decorated with the flair of their respective occupiers, made Zuccotti look more refugee camp than urban picnic spot.

One look at the park now and there’s no sniff of a revolution. When the sanitation plows rolled in after the raid of Zuccotti Park, they pushed out a nearly two-month accumulation of personal items: tents and tarps, homemade signs and mattresses, but most importantly, the occupiers. A Friday night at Zuccotti no longer hears the methodical beat of drums, or homegrown acoustic melodies set to lyrics of protestation.

Now the ground is clean, almost too clean for the outdoors; the sheen of granite reflects the sparkle of honey locusts draped in white lights; and the steps, once battered with the words, “All day, all week,” now only hear the laughter of a playful child.

After fleeing Peru in 2001 because he was persecuted for being gay, Jair Izquierdo settled in New Jersey, met his future husband, and started a life with him. But that life was brought to an abrupt halt last year when Izquierdo was deported for being in the country illegally.

Izquierdo and his partner, American citizen Richard Dennis of Jersey City, N.J., are one of thousands of binational same-sex couples in the United States that struggle with deportation. They were joined together by a civil union, but Izquierdo was an illegal immigrant, and because immigration law is federal, rather than state, Dennis was unable to sponsor him for citizenship.

“Most people don’t even realize how screwed up it is,” Dennis said of the current immigration law and how it applies to gay couples. “There’s so much subjectivity and fear and misinformation.”

The Defense of Marriage Act

The problem for couples like Dennis and Izquierdo is the Defense of Marriage Act, which ruled in 1996 that marriage is a legal union between a man and a woman. Because of DOMA, the federal government and its agencies, including those responsible for immigration benefits, are prohibited from recognizing same-sex marriages and civil unions.

“It’s very hard to explain to the many people who call us every day because it’s so patently unjust,” said Victoria Neilson, the legal director at Immigration Equality, a national organization that advocates for the rights of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered immigrants.

In February, the Obama administration announced that it would no longer continue to defend DOMA in the courts. However, it will be enforced until Congress or the Supreme Court votes to strike it down. In the meantime, the administration claims to be focusing on immigrants with criminal records.

This makes sense, Neilson said, because the backlog of immigration cases in each state would ease up, and many immigrants with clean records and ties to the community would have their cases closed. But whether this theory is being put into practice is a source of contention.

“It doesn’t really seem like the word has reached the field of the actual attorneys and ICE agents who are charged with deciding whether to put people in removal proceedings or not,” Neilson said, referring to the people working for Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).

Dennis echoes Neilson’s concerns.

“They talk tough about secure communities and weeding out criminals, but I think that they just want to deport as many people as possible,” he said. “So the rhetoric doesn’t match the actions and it doesn’t match reality.”

Fighting for “Traditional” Marriage

Immigration Equality advocates for same-sex marriage so couples like Dennis and Izquierdo can be together. On the other side of the issue are the signers of the Manhattan Declaration, who believe in the traditional marriage view that DOMA reinforces.

Helen Alvare, a professor at the George Mason University School of Law, signed the declaration because she believes that maintaining traditional marriage protects children. She wants the government to consider new reforms that scholars and legislators have come up with that would result in what she calls “equal recognition.”

Then she heard the story of Dennis and Izquierdo. She called their separation “a huge tragedy in their lives,” but was left unconvinced that the laws of marriage should be changed.

“Is this situation really enough to overturn the argument that we really need to make something special of opposite sex unions?” Alvare asked. She said that traditional marriage still needs to be honored above all.

For couples like Dennis and Izquierdo, she suggested going some other way than “the marriage route.”

“Changing marriage as a tool for [immigration benefits] is not enough.”

Other Options

According to the Williams Institute at UCLA, there are an estimated 28,500 binational same-sex couples living in the United States. The options are limited if the foreign partner is in the country illegally, especially if it has been for longer than a year, like it was for Izquierdo.

“If someone’s here with a visa and they overstay, under current immigration law, it’s almost impossible to change from being here illegally to being here legally within the United States,” said Neilson. “And if a person leaves the country to try and legalize their status, if they have been here over a year, they can’t come back for ten years.”

Izquierdo applied for asylum after having been in the country for five years, and was denied. A series of appeals and requests to reopen the case have led to a court sending the decision back to the immigration judge, claiming the reasoning to not reopen were invalid.

Dennis said that they will move to Canada or Europe if Izquierdo cannot come back to the U.S., a common remedy among binational couples.

“We do see a fair amount of couples who end up giving up on the U.S. entirely and starting a new life in Canada,” Neilson said.

Ending DOMA

Since the current Congress has not passed much legislation, Immigration Equality is looking to the Supreme Court to repeal DOMA. Neilson suspects that the earliest this could happen is 2013, so Immigration Equality is pursuing other legislative actions in the meantime.

The Uniting American Families Act is pending, a bill that would amend immigration law to say “permanent partner” where “spouse” exists, so an American can sponsor his or her partner for immigration benefits.

There’s also the Respect for Marriage Act, which would legislatively appeal DOMA. Immigration Equality also encourages its clients to call their political representatives and ask for their help.

“When you work with lesbian and gay immigrant families, you see that it’s not an abstract right,” Neilson said. “It’s a fundamental desire to just be with the person you love. And that’s just such a heart-wrenching situation to talk to someone who finally found the person they want to be with, and they can’t be with them because of this unjust law. It’s got to go.”

Over 100 years ago, Little Italy was a neighborhood spread out for over a dozen blocks, stuffed to the brim with Italian immigrant families who lived and worked there to achieve the American dream. But today its size has shrunk from a heaping plate of spaghetti to a mere forkful. The neighborhood stretches only about four blocks, which are filled with tourist shops and restaurants pushing “the best homemade” cannolis and meatballs around.

What was once a home to thousands of Italian immigrants in New York has become what many call a tourist trap. But though the neighborhood has changed, there are some Italian-Americans who refuse to give up their businesses, homes and the true essence of Little Italy. Many believe that those who remain in the neighborhood are what keep its nostalgia alive.

“Little Italy, ain’t only a place, it’s a mind set,” said Ernest Tramontana, a lifetime Little Italy resident.

Hasia Diner, professor and academic chair of Hebrew and Judiac Studies at NYU, said that Italians immigrants moving out of the neighborhood was a positive thing for them because it meant they were making it.

“Little Italy was really the victim of its own success, in as much as the children and for sure the grandchildren of the people who lived there wanted to live in places with yards, if not the actual suburbs,” Diner said.

Vinny Vella, a 3rd generation Italian-American, sat at the little patio outside La Bella Café, at a marble topped table scattered about with lottery scratch tickets, laughing and joking with friends while watching passersby on Mulberry Street.

“Every week we do this,” he said. “We play and then decide who gets what,” he said pointing at the scratch tickets with a hearty laugh, waving his hand adorned with a gold ring on his pinky and chain on his wrist. On the crisp fall afternoon, Vella was dressed to the nines; his black knee-length peat coat and grey grizzly hair toped off the look.

Vinny Vella, 63, is a 3rd generation Italian-American who's lives in Little Italy. He loves New York and the neighborhood because of the hustle and bustle. Photo by Nicole Guzzardi

Vella, 63, is an actor who has lived in Little Italy most his life, and prefers to keep it that way. Though he said the area has changed dramatically since he was young, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave. For Vella, Little Italy still possesses charm and romance.

“I’m still here because I was born here,” he said. “I live here, I lived her all my life, it’s home, where am I gonna go?”

Between 1810 and 1980, over 5.3 million Italians immigrated to the U.S., many fleeing poverty and overpopulation, with over 2 million between 1900 and 1910, according to census information. Many of these Italians settled in Little Italy neighborhoods all over the country, the most famous being in New York.

“For the Italians of New York, Little Italy became the place to go to,” Diner said. “It came to stand for a symbol of authenticity.”

Historically, Little Italy in Lower Manhattan ran north to Bleecker Street and south to Canal Street. It stretched west to Lafayette and east to Bowery Street. Today, the neighborhood has shrunk to a few blocks on a single street. Businesses were once stretched out among the large neighborhood. Now what’s left of the neighborhood lies mainly on Mulberry Street from Broome to Canal streets.

Meanwhile Chinatown, Little Italy’s touching neighborhood, continues to grow in size and numbers, engulfing areas of Little Italy as Asian immigrants continue to flow into the United States. Stores once owned and run by Italians have been sold to Chinese management.

Diner said Chinese immigration was big in the 1960s and still continues to be today.

Vella has his own theory on why the neighborhood changed. Back in the 1940s and 50s when many Italians immigrated to New York, they bought up a lot of buildings for a little money, he said. But as time went on and rent increased, many were forced to sell, or wanted to take the money and make a new life.

“All of a sudden someone comes around in the 70s and 80s and says they’ll give you two million dollars for the building, and they take they money,” he said. “They neva had that kinda money before.”

Many Italians left Little Italy, moving to other parts of New York, like Staten Island and Long Island, he said.

Vella’s father, Louie, started his own fish market on Mott Street in Little Italy, and ran the business for years before selling. Louie was born in New York, but was taken back to Italy with his parents, who were born in Italy, when he was nine months old. He grew up in Italy and came back to New York at 17. He started working as an ice man, saved money, bought a pushcart to sell fish from and eventually opened his own market.

Louie ran the market 41 years before selling. Vella said his father didn’t sell because he needed the money, but because he had to retire. Louie didn’t want to sell the business to anyone but an Italian, Vella said.

“I said ‘Pa, there’s no Italians gonna buy this store. It’s all Chinese right now, you have no choice,’ ” he said.

Eventually he couldn’t keep it up anymore, Vella said, and his father sold the business to a Chinese family, who still runs the market today.

Over the years Vella has watched the neighborhood change.

“There are more tourists now then there were before. Canal Street was the borderline. There was Italians on one side of the street and Chinese on the other,” Vella said.

While there is no doubt the neighborhood is not the size it once was, others believed it hasn’t really changed all that much.

Tramontana, an Italian-American who was raised and still resides in Little Italy, said there are still plenty of Italians living in the area. Tramontana, 30, is president of Sons of Little Italy in New York, an organization dedicated to promoting tradition and culture. He believes the changes the neighborhood has seen are just a natural part of immigration itself.

“This was a Dutch-Irish neighborhood,” he said. “The Dutch-Irish moved to the outer boroughs; it became an Italian neighborhood, the Italians moved to the outer boroughs. It’s the American way.”

Tramontana himself said he too will eventually move from the neighborhood, because when he has a family, he wants to give them a different life, the yard.

Among the Italians who still own space and run businesses in the neighborhood are Italian-American brothers Frank and Nick Angileri. The Angileri brothers have run La Bella Café on Mulberry Street for 41 years. The brothers were both born in Sicily, Italy, and Franky moved to New York by himself at age 17. A few years later his brother Nick came to live in Little Italy as well.

Frank Angilieri, 68, owns La Bella Ferrera Cafe on Mulberry Street in Little Italy. He was raised in Italy and came to New York at age 17. He opened this business with his brother Nick Angilieri 41 years ago. Photo by Nicole Guzzardi

Franky Angileri, 68, thinks the neighborhood changed partly because the younger generation of Italians went to school, became educated and moved out of the neighborhood for more comfort and space. With fewer Italians, the neighborhood began to change, he said.

“Many years ago, Italian people used to control the neighborhood and make sure no other nationalities came; they wanted to keep it Italian. Unfortunately, those kinda people aren’t around anymore,” Angileri said.

“They sold out,” Tramontana said. “They didn’t sell to their own kind. The Chinese came through with shopping bags full of money.”

Tramontana said that organizations in Little Italy have to step up promotion and public relations to bring the “bridge and tunnel” people back to the neighborhood.

“That’s the future of Little Italy, having your locals come back,” he said.

There is no way of knowing how long Little Italy will withstand the economic challenges and overflow of other neighborhoods, but some Italians will stay to keep its essence alive.

“When they stop making a good lasagna, I’m outta here,” Vella said.

A Protestor and a police officer exchange angry words.

The “people’s mic” in action.

Protestors chant “Everybody Stay” as rain pours down.