Remembering Your Roots - A Birthday Special

When I look at myself in the mirror, I attribute every feature to an ancestor. My almond shaped eyes are from my mom, my cheekbones are from my dad and I'm pretty sure my legs are from my great-grandpa (apparently he stood at 6'2, taller than your average Bengali).

I am myself. I have my own personality - but I am also a product of my environment. I wasn't lucky enough to be born into a household with wealthy parents, but I was able to inherit their wanderlust nonetheless.

My mother became a flight attendant when she was 19 to help make ends meet when her father's business suddenly crashed. Back in the "those days", stewardesses were considered a class of their own. They were required to take a mandatory etiquette course, walk with their shoulders back, and pin a sari perfectly in six minutes or less.

She's been to 25 different countries and visited countless cities. 

"Which country had the most beautiful men?"

"Greece, definitely Greece. Maybe Italy, amar mone nai."

She recalled a time when she was on a connecting flight from Rome to Dhaka. One of the passengers was an Italian man who definitely wanted more than just the the Tetley Tea and biscuits.

"We talked for a little bit and he asked me for my number. So I asked him for his instead and he gave me his hotel room number at the Sheraton."

"So - did you go back?"

"Tumi ki pagol?" - Are you crazy?

For her 54th birthday this year, I decided to look back at my roots and figure out a present that had more sentimental than material value. I feel so blessed to have grown up in a household with a parent who is so open-minded thanks to her cosmopolitan experiences, so I felt like the best gift would pay homage to that.

The middle image above is my mom's headshot from the 1980's. She's about 22 in the photograph, and I figured it would be a cool idea to recreate the photo given our super similar features. I reached out to journalist and dear friend Michael Cusanelli to help shoot this project and with his help, I was able to create something very special.

We knew we needed blank white walls, and since Michael is from Suffolk County, Long Islan, we figured the best place to take the photos would be at the Wang Center at Stony Brook University - my alma mater.

I'll admit, I don't know how to wrap a sari at all. I found a similarly toned one in my mom's closet and said I would use it as a prop for my friend's "photo shoot." She had no idea. I recreated the pin using black felt and gold paper from Michael's. Since this is only a collage of 3 head shots, taking the photographs was the easiest part. 

We decided to shoot Susana first so she would know what to look for once it came time to take my photos. One thing we noticed immediately was the tone difference on her neck versus her face. We were able to fix that with powder of course.

This is probably one of my favorite photographs from the day. We played with different angles for fun, but we decided to stick to the original composition of the head shot.

I have a pair of snaggleteeth, so I'm not as inclined to smile with my teeth showing.

My sister came up with the above caption obviously.

Who's the diva here? No seriously.

Lastly, I'd like to give a special shout out to Michael for making this all possible! 

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Reminiscing 2015 and Figuring Out 2016

2015 was a major trip, but that's not a very original thing to say because I'm sure it's been a trip for a lot of people.

It was the year of my first adult job, my first vacation, my first music festival and my first real break up.

The scary thing is, even in the midst of all things good and bad, I figured out so much about myself, and unfortunately that's something a lot of people do after an epiphany reveals itself.

What no one really tells you, or no one has really told me as of yet, is the emotional roller coaster adulthood brings. You're sort of just expected to know how to manage your bills, handle your responsibilities, and balance your work and personal life in a way that makes you a superhuman or something.

Something that did strike me for much of the year, and just in general, is the presence of my friends and family. I learned that part of the reason I was able to remain so level headed was because I had an amazing support system. After my break up, I tried to keep myself as busy as possible, constantly setting up lunch dates with friends, texting my feelings to Tanisha (the BFF of course) every other day, and physically removing myself from any situation where I felt emotionally vulnerable. (So imagine, you're out for a night of drinking - then BAM, 'Hello' comes on by Adele, and you're pinching yourself not to bawl. So what did I do? The Irish exit of course.)

I'm the worst kind of sad person. Few people have seen me cry because I don't like to appear "weak." Sadness shouldn't equate to weakness, but I don't like allowing other people to see that I too can be vulnerable. It's an intimate thing to allow someone to see your vulnerable side, so I try really hard not to let anyone see it. I think the worst cry I had in 2015 was when the tears wouldn't stop during Beyonce's Made in America performance. But seriously, who starts a ballot with a 50 Shades of Grey song? Anyway, I ran back to the hotel room, continued to play sad music and cried into Tanisha's lap. Of course, she gave me the tough love I needed, I shook it off, and made sure not to connect any negative feelings to joyous occasions. So when The Weeknd performed the next day, my partner in crime Maggy made sure we were close enough to the stage to see the sweat glisten on his forehead. I don't know if you've ever seen him live, but it's worth it.

I don't think I'll ever go to a music festival again, but holy shit, look at my abs.

I started working for my company in February and it's been almost 11 months. It's crazy how comfortable you can be in the work place, especially after you connect to someone at work. When you finally find your balance of family, friends, and work, it's like the holy trinity of balance. I don't really have much to say about work other than hoping that I continue to improve overall, and that regardless of the next step I take, it contributes to my happiness. That's something I've really been thinking about and taking into account. "If I do X, Y and Z, will I be happy?"

I have a very close relationship with my mom and a lot of my family members visited from abroad this year. It's pretty cool to see how bad ass your bloodline can be. Every time anyone visited, the first thing we did was visit the liquor warehouse down the block. It's always been kind of a paradox, drinking with my mamas and khalas, while dressed in our traditional kameezes. I think part of the reason I love it when they visit so much is because I can see so many similarities in our personalities it's unreal. Just yesterday, the youngest uncle on my mother's side left, and he really reminds me of an older, much more mature male version of my sister. Both are pretty logical, but witty/sarcastic at the same time. Their favorite hobby is definitely roasting other people.

One of my favorite moments from this year was when we took a couple of my uncles, on two different occasions, to Long Beach. They had never seen the Atlantic Ocean before, and what better way to really show them something so beautiful close to home. 

Me and my youngest uncle from my mother's side. The little one is my cousin (you can barely see him).

Do you ever tell yourself you're gonna do something, and then you finally do it? Then you ask yourself, 'Why did I never do this before?' and it's because you'd always been broke as hell? For me, that was traveling. I've been to Dhaka, Toronto, Abu Dhabi, San Juan and just a few other cities outside New York, and I can't wait for my next adventure. Sure, I'll be on a resort on Punta Cana, but I'll be visiting the capital and making sure I at least get to see the actual country itself. Dieting for Punta Cana starts now of course.

Now that 2016 is almost here... 

What are my next steps? Shit, I don't know. I know whatever I do, regardless of my career and relationships, I need to make sure it feels right. "Do I need to do this? Will this make me happy?"

As far as anything 'healthy' goes, I'm going to keep doing me. Something that I picked up in August was going to the gym before work. If you have the time to do so, I recommend this. It's the best feeling going to a fairly empty gym, doing your thing, and seeing an actual difference in your body. I don't like giving myself a limit as to how much "weight" I should lose. I think it's better to look at it as sort of a lifestyle change. You're not working out to look good only for the summer, you should work out, because it's just a good thing to do for your body and yourself. I like going out with my friends and drinking, but I definitely plan to drink less in 2016. It's fun to be buzzed, but it isn't fun to be drunk and then hungover the next day. I'll be more conscious of what I'm drinking, and more so, making sure I have a glass of water after each drink.

Basically, I'm never drinking coquito again.

I definitely need to budget better, and get my first credit card. I don't even have a credit score probably, so if I plan to own my own place some day, I need to work on that. Something I plan to do is just cut out buying lunch period. Do I really need to eat Thai food twice a week? It adds up. I've forced myself to like the crappy Keurig coffee in the break room, so I can definitely force myself to make lunch 5 days a week. Being fiscally responsible is a necessity and I'd rather go out less if it means having more in my pocket at the end of the night.

I'm going to be 25 in 2016, so I need to be mentally prepared for all of the bullshit proposals that might come my way. I've just gotten use to the idea of loving myself, so It'll be a while before I open myself up to someone again. But love is one of those things you should never really rush into, so I really need to just take things slow.

Have a Happy New Year's ya filthy animals, I hope your year's been as eventful as mine!

Self Love and Self-Sacrifice

My mom was 19 when she left college and began working as a flight attendant for Biman Airlines, the only national airline for Bangladesh. To be selected as an air hostess is an honor, almost. She still shares stories with me about how she would be exhausted after a flight, but still found time to schedule hangouts with her fellow colleagues in their Sheraton hotels, exchanging stories about grumpy passengers over rice and daal.

Bengalis, and most South Asians in my experience, embrace self-sacrifice - the concept of doing whatever is necessary for the greater good of the family. Nuclear families seem to be a new phenomenon, but the norm is that most adult children do not leave the home until they get married. Individualism, 'finding yourself' and self-love are all very necessary, but often trivialized in our culture.

After my grandmother passed away, Reba - my mother, took it upon herself to start working to help raise her siblings. She was one of eight. Reba would bring back gifts, clothing, and beauty products from 'trips' and sell them in Dhaka as an added source of income on top of her flights. My grandpa, who passed two years ago, managed his business to help make ends meet.

My sister is such a brat, ugh. That's my grandpa, "I know Bushra, Susana is super annoying."

In the process of helping her family, Reba quickly formed a relationship with my dad. They had only dated for 3 weeks before they got married. She told me she was in a relationship with someone prior for almost four years, before he ended things because his mother did want them to get married.

"Keo goriv me ke biye korte chai nai" 

"No one wanted to marry the poor girl." 

This wasn't to say my mother's family was poor - they struggled. But even then, no one wanted to wed a woman who had to give up a piece of herself to her family in order for her to help them survive. Ironic how Bengalis (dependent upon the faith) preach prayers five times a day, modest clothing, and respect, but are increasingly shallow, and judgmental when reviewing a potential partner's “worth”. 

The cycle of self-sacrifice is never ending for us. You're expected to help the family, financially, emotionally, and once you're 'of age', you're expected to self-sacrifice again - this time for your husband or wife. In the time Reba ended things, she was expected to find someone to marry. I had asked her why she rushed things, and she mentioned her age. She was 26, and was considered 'older.' Instead of being single, and figuring herself out, she quickly gave in the to cultural norm of 'young brides' and got married to a man she barely knew, which only led to a tumultuous relationship ending in separation.

We're expected to love our parents, and siblings and then our significant others, but we're barely pressed to love ourselves. Instead of taking the time to figure herself out, she was expected to self-sacrifice again, this time for an abusive husband with a gambling addiction. Money was always tight, but she made the effort make us feel like things were okay. 

Every Saturday we'd wake up early and drop our clothes off at the laundromat. We'd take our mini cart to Subzi Mandi, buy groceries, drop those groceries off and then pick up our clothes. At the end of the day, she took us to McDonald's and we ate together. If she had more saved than usual, we'd get Happy Meals.

I see myself in my mom in a lot of ways. I'm just as extroverted as she is, we both like whiskey, and we're the glue that holds things together. Lately, she's been asking me to find someone new, someone to make into a husband - the same way she had been pressured to self sacrificing for someone. It's frustrating.

"Doya kori tomar valo jamai and chakri hok."

"I pray that you'll find a good husband and career."

It's infuriating for me to hear that "husband" comes before "career." And it shouldn't. I don't need a spouse in order to validate my existence. Neither did she, nor does anyone. My circle of friends and my job keep me busy, I read a lot, and I cook all the time. I'm not actively searching for anything. Moreso - I need time for myself. I need time to love myself for who I am a reflect on who I'm becoming as I enter my mid-twenties.

I can see the disconnect when I explain to her that I need to be alone right now. That I, as an individual, just need to be myself and build myself as a person. I've asked her, many times, if she would have left her marriage if she was more comfortable in herself, and financially able. She would have, but she didn't, given her fear of community backlash and lack of self acceptance. Maybe if she had waited after that first relationship, maybe if she had spent more time on herself and her career she could have prevented a lot of heartbreak, a lot of sacrifice.

In the end, it's a lot of maybes. We can't change the past, but only focus on the future now. She talks to a therapist and has come to terms with her life. She even influenced one of our Bengali neighbors to do the same. I could see it in her face, the level of understanding and self-acceptance that's come from the therapy and just talking to me and my sister. 

Loving yourself and understanding yourself as a person surpasses cultural boundaries. Everyone, the family or the whole, benefits when the person is self aware in who they are. And even then, you aren't obligated to take the 'traditional' steps necessary in order to 'be happy', based on society's interpretation of 'normal.'

My mom, sister and I were sitting on our sectional when she looked up from her plate of rice and daal, and said, "Onek dine movie dheki nai, amra thinjon movie aar dinner khai akshate."

"We haven't watched a movie together in so long, let's eat dinner and watch a movie together, just the three of us!".

A Bengali Thanksgiving

Growing up with bi-cultural identity is the weirdest thing.

My parents immigrated to New York from Bangladesh in 1991. I was the mediator that helped them come to terms with American holidays like Groundhog Day and Halloween. When I was 11, I realize I had failed when my mom completely butchered the Thanksgiving dinner I had always dreamed of.

Her Honduran co-worker gifted her a frozen turkey and I was ecstatic that I would finally have a normal Thanksgiving.

Bengalis don't generally eat turkey. Chicken? Sure. Fish? Fuck, yes. Pork? Hell no.

"Ei bosore amra Thanksgiving korbo."

"We'll have a Thanksgiving this year." my mom said.

Pre-pubescent Bushra was excited as hell. "Finally, they get it." We'll have family over, fight over who gets the last turkey leg, and I'll eat not one, but two cans of that jellied Ocean Spray cranberry sauce.

My mom slaved all day in the kitchen and then came out with a dark pot. Uncovered, it was the turkey. Sliced, curried and in a sauce. No sage, no butter, no thyme. Turmeric, cumin and coriander.

"What the fuck is this?", I thought, mimicking the R-rated swear words I technically shouldn't have known.

"Ma, eta ki?"

"Turkey, kao." - eat, she ordered.

My dreams of being normal were crushed. How am I supposed to fit in with my school friends if I can't even do turkey right. Of course, it didn't really matter. As I've grown older, I had more of a say what I cooked or made.

To make the stuffing above you'll need:

2 store bought cornbread, cubed

3 celery stalks, diced

1 red onion, diced

1 white onion, diced

4 garlic cloves

2 eggs

1 stick of butter

Sage

Salt and Pepper

1) First, dry out your cornbread on a pan by baking it at 375 degrees for 15 minutes.

2) While it dries, cook your celery, onions and garlic in a pan using a tablespoon of butter. Add a table spoon of chopped sage, and cook until fragrant and the onions are translucent. About 8 minutes on medium heat. Don't forget the salt and pepper.

3) Once the cornbread is "done", take it out and cool. Mix in the cooked veggies and allow it to cool for 10 minutes. Whisk your eggs, and add it to the cornbread. Use your hands to bind everything.

4) Take the remaining butter and brown it in a small sauce pan. Be careful not to burn. Top your stuffing with the melted brown butter and bake at 375 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Enjoy your Thanksgiving!

First SquareSpace Blog Post!

I have been blogging on and off for the past year, but after the some research I decided to let go of my WordPress roots and give SquareSpace a try! I love the sleek templates and simple web instructions offered. 

For my first post here, however, I'd like to take a look back and note the first post I made on WordPress over a year ago:

"You have a degree in Journalism and now you’ll work for Applebee’s.

That comment hit me like a dagger in the stomach. It bothered me for so many reasons I couldn’t even think of any in said moment since I physically removed myself from the situation (as in, I got up and walked away.)

Let me get a few things straight. No job is below you, or anyone. Everyone needs to make a living – white, black, Asian or anything. I may not have my dream job yet, but I’ll get there. It’s only been a month since my last full-time job was over and I’ve been searching ever since. I’ve had a couple of interviews and almost all rejections. It sucks. It’s a terrible feeling, because I constantly wonder if I made the right choice studying what I did. At the same time I know this is meant for me. Journalism is storytelling. Telling a story about politics, health, current events, etc.

My name is Bushra.

Bushra means “Messenger of good news.” I want to read the news, write the news, edit it, and be able to convey it to the public in the most raw way possible. I know I’m asking for a lot when I say that I cannot look for work in any other state other than New York. I know it’s the most competitive, and I understand why. But when you have yourself, a sibling and a parent to take care of, you know you can’t just pick things up and move to a small town hundreds of miles away to work for a gig that won’t even pay me enough to ensure that I can send money back home.

There’s a sense of dread that comes with knowing that I might not make it, but I took the risk because I believe in myself and because I can kick-ass in the workplace. I’m not afraid to report on a tragedy, or to ask the questions that NEED to be asked. I want to be the mediator between the story and the public.

All that said, everyone is working or trying to find work. And it doesn’t matter what someone is doing to make their living. You support them regardless because it’s their life and their choices. You aren’t better than anyone because of the job you hold or the money you make, and no one else is better than you because of the job they hold and the money  they make.

I have an interview with Applebee’s tomorrow.

I have an interview for Applebee’s tomorrow. I’m not any less proud of myself for the things I’ve accomplished.

I wrote this last year at a time when I felt depressed, and frustrated when it felt like my job search was landing me no where. A few months after this initial meltdown, I was lucky enough to land a position at a media buying company in midtown Manhattan. It isn't my dream job quite yet, but I am definitely happy and could not be more grateful. This February will mark one year that I've been with my company!