A Herd of Black Sheep Draft

Growing up, every child watches their parents grow and evolve. We watch them figure out ways to trick us into eating our veggies, toil to help us with our homework and make attempts to be the “cool” parents at our birthday parties. We see them laugh and smile as they enjoy the curiosity and innocence we bring to their lives. However, not all the moments we witness of our parents’ lives are elated and cheerful. As children, we also watch our parents fight for a better life, struggle with the judgement society weighs down upon them, and over exert themselves trying to protect their kids from the evils of the world. Naturally, when our parents are in agony, us kids feel the runoff of emotions that overflow uncontrollably. These feelings affect every member of the family and become issues that must be dealt with by the family as a whole. When it comes to my family, the greatest struggle I watched my parents and our family endure was our search to find where we fit in; not only in society but within our own extended family. Before we embark on this journey back in time, it is important that I introduce you to my parents. My mother is Jamaican, born and raised in Kingston, Jamaica. She immigrated to the United States on March 31st, 1991. Her name was Audrey Lorraine Johnson, which became Audrey Lorraine Osmani a few years later. My mom, Audrey, is a Christian who comes from a devoted religious family. Despite Audrey’s open-minded and laid back personality, she is unable to share her views of the world with her family. On the other hand, my father is a Bangladeshi man who was raised in the capital of Bangladesh; Dhaka. He emigrated from Bangladesh to the United States in November 1992. Upon arriving to the U.S., he changed his name from Sadat Osmani to Anowar Sadat Osmani, in order to fit into his new surroundings. He felt that his Arabic name would conjure hate and judgement because it showed that he was different. My father is also a muslim which at the time – and still to this day – is a misunderstood religious group that is subjected to unfair stereotypes. Similar to my mom, he too had a more accepting view of the world that was hard to translate to his family. Upon my parents’ arrival to the United States, they were faced with culture shock that quickly subdued when they met each other. However, their union brought about more intense scrutiny due to their differences. It all started on August 29th, 1993; the day my parents started dating. During this time, it was hard for people to conceptualize racial equality, let alone interracial couples. In spite of this, my parents believed in love. They got married six years later on February 14th, 1999 and one year after that, on April 13th, 2000, they had me! Inside our home, it was the happiest place I could ever imagine growing up. However, from the age of five, I started to notice that the outside world wasn’t so kind. When my parents and I went out, people would pull me aside and ask me if I was okay or if I knew the people I was with. I would be really confused but answer honestly, “Yes, that’s my mommy and daddy!” With this response people would scoff, look at me with shock, and walk away. I quickly started to realize that people didn’t think my parents were…mine. No matter the location, I felt as if all eyes were on us. I always felt subconscious and wanted to protect my parents from the vultures, although they never felt bothered by the unforgiving stares. Until one day I overheard one of my parents conversations. “They think I’m her babysitter Anowar!” my mom yelled, “They think that we’re not good parents because look at us. We’re so different. We don’t belong together here, we don’t belong in their culture.” Every word sent vibrations throughout my body as they were released from the pandora’s box that had been ripped open from the claws of strangers that didn’t even know us. My mom felt like… an outsider. Just because my mom was in love, she felt as if she didn’t belong. That day I ran back to my room as I couldn’t do anything but cry. Over time it just became worse. My mom didn’t want to leave the house as a whole. She would only take me out or go out with my grandmother. My dad became more irritable. My one safe haven became a stressful hell. To make matters even worse, criticism from the outside world wasn’t the only form of judgement my family and I recieved. Members of our own family ridiculed us for being different. On my mom’s side of the family, my grandma would emphasize that my dad’s culture and religion were not the correct way of life. Time with them transformed into lectures persuading me to act against who I was and still am. My dad never felt comfortable when my mom’s family was around, which, in turn, prohibited anyone from enjoying their company. The same applied to my father’s side of the family. Although they never openly said anything about my mom’s side of the family, they would make an effort to keep my mom out of their inner circle. The isolation ranged from only speaking in their native tongue to participating in activities that my mom couldn’t relate to or partake in. Like my father, she despised spending time with her spouse’s family. How are we suppose bond and spend time with our extended family if it there’s always an atmosphere of tension and agony? We, the Osmani’s, were the black sheeps of our family. We just didn’t seem to fit in; we stopped going to family functions, and stopped spending time with our extended family. It’s one thing to feel detached from the outside world but it’s a more hurtful situation to be an outsider of your own family. It was something that was neither discussed or talked about in my household, but everyone knew what was happening, and everyone knew how one another felt about it. So where do we stand now? My parents decided that these feelings of discomfort and secludedness arose from the fact that they were always so worried about fitting in but never realized that it’s okay to be different. They didn’t see that people will only accept you and feel comfortable around you if you’re comfortable with yourself and are confident enough to put yourself out there. They wanted for their family and for themselves to build up the confidence to accept their differences and to embrace them as who they are. They wanted to raise their kids to know that it’s okay to be different and that just because you are unique compared to others that you don’t have to be an outsider. How did my parents do this you ask? Well it took a little bit of luck and a lot of charm but eventually they were able to be comfortable enough with themselves that instead of waiting for others to come and approach them first, that they would be the ones to initiate the conversation. They learned that the only way for people to get past outer appearance, is for people to get to know you for who you are. Society’s image of a normal shifted; they didn’t need to assimilate now because people realized that their relationship was just like any others, except it was special. Today, I can say, that I love spending time with both sides of my family altogether and that despite our differences, we are still able to look at each other as family. My family may still be the black sheeps, but we’re the most beautiful kind that I’ve ever seen.

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