A SINGLE GRAIN
“Oh no!” are the words out of my mouth as I see the waterfall of rice missing the pink container and bouncing lightly on our wooden floor. I quickly sweep up the mess and put away the canister but notice a single grain of rice that I missed. As I pick it up to throw away, I realize how little weight it has and if held, how it can easily fall through the cracks or be blown off. Suddenly, I think about its cultural weight that can sometimes be too heavy to hold.
I am reminded that rice is the backbone that makes a meal a meal – all other food being accessories.
I see friends with mouths half open with laughter and half-mashed rice, sharing our lives and experiences. I blink and I see my family sitting at a Western restaurant not knowing what to order as burgers, fries, and meats without rice left my parents confused. As I close my fingers close around the grain of rice, I see another scene of myself as a child, gobbling down my food as quickly as possible, hearing the not-so-stifled laughter of other children making their own assumptions of what I was eating based on the smell.
When I open my hand over the garbage, the grain is nowhere to be found. I realize that my own culture feels the same way – trying to grasp it but often losing it – not knowing where I lost it along the way. I am reminded that similarly, I sometimes try to ‘lose’ my culture to fit in with my white neighbors, trying to not be different. However, as I am about to give up, I find that grain stuck tenaciously on the back of my hand – defiantly there.