I started being interested in South Asian diasporic identity construction when I realized my brother and I, despite being raised in the same house, had radically different relationships to our heritage culture.

I saw this pattern across my community: everyone operating on a continuum between home and heritage cultures, interfacing between the two in a way unique to each individual. Different diasporas within the United States and all over the world had developed their own cultures, institutions, practices and traditions. The New York diaspora and the Bradford diaspora are almost incomparable, for example. There is a fundamental misunderstanding by native communities that diasporic culture is an extension of theirs. It is not. Diasporic culture is entirely its own, with its own fashion, social cues, even hybrid language. It is happening live while simultaneously rooted in a perception of home culture frozen in time, filtered through the people who immigrated with it, tending old-fashioned and often less progressive because it has not evolved alongside its source. If each person is making their own way, our understanding of being diasporic is highly individualistic. There is no "diasporic culture" communally. Rather, we resist attempts to homogenize the diasporic identity from outside, while finding solidarity within.

Being a diasporic artist demands a true separation from the external gaze. both within the community and outside of it, and an honesty of the self, and the actual story you have to tell. There is a reliance on the "torn between two worlds" narrative that often leads to caricature-like portrayals, particularly of South Asian women, that demonize and otherize. These are the stories that get funded. Diasporic artists are rewarded for resting on stereotypes over specificity. How do we demand better from ourselves, from each other, while trying to wrap our hands around what being diasporic is?

My practice lives in conversation with other diasporic people. In gathering, in the joy of agreeing or disagreeing with what we consider to be diasporic. The way I approach this is rooted in Patricia Hill Collins' concepts of standpoint epistemology and testimonial authority, and Jo-Ann Archibald's indigenous storywork methodologies: frameworks that demand community-based, ethical approaches to whose stories get told and how.

Fundamentally, my practice and producing work come from the same belief: the imperative to communicate a story, while demanding excellence from yourself and the people around you. It has been a challenge balancing the two, I often find one requires the abatement of the other. But they share a root.

For now I'm looking to return to my own work, to pull the threads of my practice, which now spans mixed reality, writing, photography, and gatherings, together, to better articulate that conversation.