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En Español En bordado cultural

Un matrimonio improbable entre un hombre Mexicano Americano y una mujer hindú. POR JOSE MIRANDA F ueron muchos y en varias ocasiones los que me dijeron que casarme con una mujer Hydro era cosa imposible. Mas fácil sería ser aceptado en la Universidad de Harvard. Más fácil lanzarme como astronauta y rascar la faz de la luna. Sí, mucho más fácil sería hacer semejante cosa que casarme con una mujer Hydro. ¿Y qué es una Hydro? En pocas palabras, es apodo para una persona de la ciudad Hyderabad, India. Un apodo para aquellas personas de familias tradicionales en las cuales arreglan bodas y no creen en matrimonio por amor. Un apodo para aquellas mujeres que solo se casan con personas desi, musulmanes, y que son hablantes del lenguaje urdu. Y un apodo para decirle a un hombre Mexicano Americano, criado cristiano, sin ningún conocimiento y práctica del subcontinente indio, y sin caravana de tesoros siguiéndome, que tal anhelo era algo imposible.

Ya subiendo las escaleras del escenario, en lo que marca el primer día de nuestras fiestas de boda, recuerdo todas estas advertencias. Presiento sus miradas fijas, fuertes, y curiosas, ese mar de caras que me estudian a cada paso que doy, y me ajusto la turbina y el sherwani para entonces voltear a verlos. Enfrentó a la familia de mi esposa Hydro. Algunos han escuchado de mí y algunos han conjurado todo lo malo que han visto en las películas para llegar a cierta conclusión de quién soy yo. Pero aquí estoy, en pleno desafío, después de laborar tanto para entender los detallitos y las grandes verdades de su cultura—aprendiendo y absorbiendo lo más posible para que la vida de mi amada no sea tan difícil y su gente no le dé la espalda. Al fin, las puertas de la sala de recepción se abren, y me entregan a mi esposa. Llega majestuosa en su palanquín resguardado por sus hermanos, primos, y tíos. Los mismos que algún día fueron barrera para nuestra unión y ahora son sus pilares. Ella sonríe y luce hermosa en su lehenga rojo con bordado dorado, mientras su bello rostro resplandece con joyas de oro y una dupatta que adorna

Jordan Sellergren / Little Village

su pelo. Una explosión de henna pinta sus manos y palmas con tradición y sentimiento. Sus ojos grandes y oscuros me buscan, con pupilas que destellan, como para confirmar que esto no es solo un sueño, una aurora que ha de esfumarse.

Mi dulhan, mi novia, llega al escenario y me extiende su mano para que la reciba. Un gesto romántico en cualquier boda, y aún más extraordinario para nosotros. Si supieran nuestros invitados cuantas batallas culturales han estallado y cuantos valores forjados en dos continentes tuvieron que ser sumados en pocas palabras o en un suspiro. Si supieran que detrás de toda esta celebración se ha jugado un ajedrez con trocitos de corazón en cada jaque. Si supieran que ya son varias las capas de mi identidad que se suman al esfuerzo. Si supieran que ha tomado ya una década para llegar al presente.

Cultural Embroidery An unlikely marriage between a Mexican-American man and an Indian woman. WRITTEN AND TRANSLATED BY JOSE MIRANDA I was told, numerous times, that to marry a Hydro girl was impossible. Easier to get into Harvard. Easier to become an astronaut and grace the face of the moon. Hydro, short for a person from Hyderabad, India; short for a lady from a traditional family that arranges marriages, whose folks don’t believe in love marriages; short for women who only marry their own desi; Muslim, Urdu-speaking, Hydros. Short-hand for an impossible aspiration for a Mexican-American man raised Protestant,

without a lick of Urdu, lacking a caravan of wealth and sponsors behind him.

Ascending the steps up the stage on our first day of marriage, the admonitions echo from memory. I can sense their eyes scanning me as I affix my stole and sherwani and balance my turban. I face my audience, a teeming sea of stern, curious faces behind me: My Hydro bride’s family. Some have heard of me, some have pieced together bits amalgamated from Hollywood movies to draw conclusions of the stranger, the outsider, marrying into the family. But here I stand before them, having done everything as culturally respectful as possible, digging deep into the culture to grasp its deeper truths—seeking to absorb their values and philosophy into my own and hoping to garner support and mitigate opposition to save my bride from being shunned by family and community.

The back doors to the reception hall open, and my bride is brought atop a palanquin, carried by her brothers, cousins and uncles. All the people who once seemed to stand firmly against this union, now our pillars. She beams brightly in her red and gold ornate lehenga, her lustrous big eyes and her lovely face accentuated by the traditional gold jewelry and the dupatta crowning her head. Lavish henna runs up her hands like an explosion of sentiment. Her eyes connect with my own and we try to ascertain that this is in fact real, that this far-fetched moment is coming to fruition.

My dulhan is brought to the stage and I stretch my hand to hers. A most romantic and iconic moment in any wedding, and for us even more extraordinary. If our guests only knew how many careful cross-cultural battles had to be waged, how many beliefs forged on different continents and over millennia had to be harmonized into few non-inflammatory words; if they could only appreciate the deliberate, emotional chess board constantly flaring in the background; if they only knew how many layers of my identity had to be erased or repackaged to not offend sensibilities. I wonder what our guests would say if they knew it took a decade to allow this moment to happen.

Jose Miranda is a doctoral student at the University of Iowa, pursuing a degree in teaching and learning: language, literacy and culture. He works for the Belin Blank Center for Gifted Education and Talent Development. Jose hails from Chicago, Illinois.

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LV Recommends: Vivian’s Soul Food

2925 Williams Pkwy SW, Cedar Rapids, 319-396-2229 vivianssoulfoodcr.com

In honor of Galentine’s Day, and to cheer us up in the face of bitter cold temperatures, my daughter Isabelle and I headed to Vivian’s Soul Food for dinner. I had been once before, at their original location on 16th Ave SW in Cedar Rapids, for a Bernie Sanders event; I was impressed with the amazing food and the warmth and attentiveness of their staff, so I was excited to check out their new space and expanded menu.

Spouses Jerome and Brianna Smallwood opened Vivian’s in 2017 to showcase classic soul food and fill a void they saw in the Cedar Rapids restaurant scene. The business is named after Jerome’s mother, who taught him how to cook. The restaurant has been so successful that after less than three years in business, they needed bigger digs.

The new and improved Vivian’s is housed in a building that once held a Zio Johno’s. The first thing I noticed on entering was the vibrant and welcoming décor featuring bold wall colors and furniture to match. The owners’ love of music is evident everywhere you look, from the floor-to-ceiling paintings of black musicians to a guitar mounted on the wall to a playlist of R&B, soul and rap songs spanning five decades—including Beyoncé, Jay-Z, James Brown and the Temptations— soundtracking your meal. The space is also much larger than the old one, with more than double the amount of seating.

We were greeted by a friendly hostess and seated opposite a large portrait of an Afroed soul singer. The server who helped us was attentive, friendly and, thinking I was underage, offered me a drink from their selection of Coke products, which immediately improved my day.

In addition to more space and a new look, Vivian’s now features a full bar serving cocktails and beer. After scrutinizing my ID, our server let me order an old fashioned, which was delicious and warming. They’ve also expanded their menu, adding appetizers and a number of new dishes to their selection of daily dinner specials. Prices range from

Jordan Sellergren / Little Village

$5-14 for appetizers and the dinner options range from $13-24. Most include two side dishes and a cornbread muffin.

It was hard to choose with so many delicious-sounding options, but Izzy settled on Jayanni’s Favorite Shrimp with candied yams and macaroni and cheese and I chose the fried chicken, candied yams and collard greens.

Our food arrived quickly and looked so amazing, I couldn’t wait to dive in. As a person who doesn’t like the things on my plate to touch each other, I appreciated that the side dishes were served in ramekins that sat on the plate with the main entrée. My fried chicken was crispy and perfectly cooked on the inside, and the greens were tender and delicately spicy. I don’t know what they put on their candied yams, but I have been staunchly against sweet yam dishes for years and Vivian’s has forced me to reconsider my opinion.

In the name of thoroughness, I tried Izzy’s food, too. The shrimp was tender and savory and the mac and cheese was so good I ended up ordering some for myself. The portions are generous; Izzy rose to the occasion and

Owners Jerome and Brianna Smallwood at Vivian’s original location, November 2019. Jav Ducker / Little Village

finished hers, but I took enough leftovers home to have a substantial lunch the following day. We also ordered desserts—peach cobbler for her and caramel cake for me—at $6 apiece. We took them home to eat in front of the TV, and in keeping with the rest of the meal, they were both excellent and large enough that we each had some left over to enjoy the next day.

The philosophy that underpinned the food and restaurant, Jeremy told me, involves fresh ingredients, keeping things simple and familiar—but above all, doing things the right way.

“I’m about not cutting corners,” he said. “There might be an easier way, or a faster way, but that isn’t always the right way.”

—Tiffani Green

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