I spilt a bowl of maggi on my brand new, very white sweatshirt. This is the universe punishing me for not liking Indian food in elementary school because I was embarrassed.

There's actually a sweet story to this. So I was private school from kindergarten to 4th grade and then shifted to public school. I was always surrounded by white kids who had sandwiches and didn't like the smell of my parathas and poli bhaaji and that made me feel...different ig

Finally in the 5th grade I made this wonderful friend named Tammy and she was so so sweet and just such a pure soul. She loved and I mean LOVED my parathas. I didn't get it in the beginning and I thought she was just trying to make me feel better but apparently parathas were a

delicacy for this white friend of mine. It was such a simple fact: parathas taste good. It's so hard to appreciate your heritage when you're surrounded by people who don't understand it so this story is just me telling people, whether they're white or brown or black or whatever

to appreciate and educate yourself about your friends' culture and help them feel a little better about being who they are :')
That one moment in 5th grade helped me grow so much as a person and I became more confident and PROUD of my roots. It's not easy being POC in America

but here's to Tammy for making me feel a little better about myself xo