This memoir tells the story of growing up at multiple intersections — queer, Indian, and female — in West Virginia. But it also follows the author as she transitions into city life in Boston with a white Jewish partner.
It’s not written in a linear or chronological order, so each chapter doesn’t read as a cohesive story. Rather, it’s more like each chapter is an essay, and each essay is loosely connected to tell the story of the author’s life growing up between worlds.
Avashia starts with the story of how her Indian family came to West Virginia. Her father works for a chemical company that finds itself under scrutiny when their factory in India has an accident that injures workers. To appeal to the public and media, they send her father as a spokesperson to talk about how great the company is.
“Usefulness is the ultimate survival strategy for immigrants in America.” The author reflects on her conflicted feelings, knowing her father allowed the company to use him to save face while hurting people who look exactly like them. But she also recognizes that, having been born in America to immigrant parents, it was her father’s compliance that allowed her the privilege to speak up and speak out against injustice later on in life.
Growing up as an Indian girl in Appalachia had its challenges, but more so when adding in the layer of queer identity. She talks about straddling all these spaces, and how it’s all a reflection of her merged cultures and simultaneously in defiance of them.
In a chapter dedicated to the nine forms of the goddess from her Hindu religion, she poses the question, “What level of success would a woman need to accomplish to outweigh her gender?” She reflects on the various women in her life, the aunties who may not be blood relatives, whom she sees as embodying these nine aspects. These are the women who shaped her idea of womanhood, showing her how her queer identity doesn’t match up with it. But she sees them all as her mothers, and acknowledges each one taught her important life lessons all the same.
Even her West Virginia neighbors became like family, the Bees becoming her adopted grandparents. It’s these bonds that make it hard to reconcile their racist and xenophobic comments and behavior in a post-Trump world. The same people who showed her and her family love and affection call immigrants awful things, but they don’t see Neema and her family as immigrants. She questions whether their willingness to assimilate made them the exception.
When she introduces her partner to them for the first time, she does so as a friend rather than as her girlfriend. She does this to shield their comfort, but it starts to nag at her if they ever thought about shielding her comfort. This cognitive dissonance is a constant push and pull throughout the whole memoir, as the author navigates complex emotions of loving people who can show so much hate.
In the chapter “City Mouse, Country Mouse,” she tells the story of meeting her partner. She paints a picture of the struggles of an interracial, multicultural relationship. It starts with city versus rural living, but it evolves into more. Her partner, a white Jewish woman, has a certain way of communicating and expects Neema to speak plainly as well. But she grew up Indian, which means her communication style is different, and this causes conflict at times.
These differences also cause strife when it comes to each one’s approach to their queer identity. They must learn to compromise and find a happy medium between both their ways of being. And the strong connections they have, like teaching and a love of food, are the glue that keep them together and help them figure it out along the way.
Avashia weaves a rich tapestry of what it means to occupy so many spaces and yet no space at all. Her story of living between multiple worlds will resonate with anyone who has ever found themselves at various intersections of identity. Another Appalachia makes room for more perspectives from the region, a place that has been widely portrayed as white throughout media depictions. It’s a reminder that our world is always so much bigger than we think it is.
