Hi, my name’s Nat—but I’m also Nitya, and that part of me will always exist

BY NITYA (NAT) JASWANI*

“Hi, my name’s Nat.”

Upon introducing myself to people that way, I often get the question of what ‘Nat’ stands for—the most common guesses are ‘Natasha’ or ‘Natalie’. Unfortunately, I’m not named after a Marvel superhero or someone whose job is to man a port.

My real name is Nitya. I stopped going by it sometime in 7th grade, either because I finally gained consciousness or because I was just sick of having to explain myself. No, it’s not ‘Ni-tee-ya’ or ‘Nidia’ or the worst one I’ve gotten from my freshman geometry teacher: ‘Neechya’.

It’s so much easier to avoid the questions with a simple 3 letters (though some substitute teachers will call me ‘Nate’ regardless).

When I think about this nickname too deeply and the timing of it all, it was at a time when I was on social media a lot. Unfortunately for me, social media is a terrible place for any minority. Anywhere I looked, and even to this day, I’m bombarded with awful comments targeting Indians—that we smell, that we don’t shower, that we eat revolting food.

If we’re seen as disgusting, why would we—why would I—ever want to associate with that culture?

I’m a victim of this conditioning. If I saw someone outside at the mall dressed like Kajol from K3G, my first thought would be one of embarrassment.

It’s heartbreaking to realize how deeply this shame is ingrained—to the point where I feel disconnected from my own heritage.

I’m scared to be Indian.

I’m left in a liminal space: not fully belonging to the culture I came from, nor to any other that isn’t mine to claim. It’s as if I don’t have a culture anymore.

To backtrack though, I can’t say that’s entirely true. I can’t even commit to the bit. Even though I have a painful, sweaty walk to the Bio Building after lunch, I still go all the way back to the dorms to eat the home-cooked food my mom made for me—instead of the 5-star potstickers at Lakeside.

It’s like flipping identities—Nat wears eyeliner every morning (though she’s blind as a bat). Nitya makes bad jokes in Hindi to her brown hallmate. Nat listens to indie pop. Nitya volunteers at her local Hindi school every other Sunday.

But…maybe all of that is all of me.

Here, no one will frown when I tell them my real name is Nitya. Here, I’ll get genuine curiosity at the food I eat and appreciation for the hard work my mom put in to cook for me. They understand that I miss her cooking (and spices in general).

So, no, I won’t wear a bindi everyday, no I won’t be posting a Bollywood song to my story, and yeah, it sucks that I’m not perfectly fluent in Hindi, but all of that doesn’t matter. I am Indian and can’t run away from that—and that makes all of my experiences Indian American.

The shame and fear will take a lot to totally unlearn, but I think if I work towards the understanding that Nat and Nitya aren’t fighting each other—that they’re just existing together—then I can find the truth of who I am.

So, yes: Hi, my name’s Nat—but I’m also Nitya. And that part of me will always exist.

Explanation: To get into Georgia Governor’s Honors Program, I submitted an essay surrounding identity. I never found the answer to the shame I felt in just being Indian and how that made me feel inauthentic. I thought I’d revisit this topic after the Borges and You class, where we discussed, at length, Borges’ distaste towards the ‘boiling down’ of culture. We discussed that, because he is Argentinian, whatever he writes can be Argentinian Literature, regardless of if it fits the set mold or not. I realized the same idea applies to me: whatever I do, that’s an Indian American experience—because I’m the one doing it, and I can’t erase that part of myself. I’ve also learned something from being here. I was honestly scared, at first, of being one of the only nonwhite students in my hall. But it didn’t matter. There was no judgment. No separation. I felt like I belonged. And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to be less Indian to be accepted.

*Nitya Jaswani is a senior at Johns Creek High school with a passion for storytelling that blends introspection and emotional resonance. When not writing, she’s likely drawing, singing, or exploring a new city/country with her family.