National Identity is a construct. When I recognize that, I accept that there is nothing ontological or natural about the ties I feel to a piece of land, populated by a set of people, and given a certain name. Even so, I must also accept that accepting its construction does not necessarily mean having to negate it the way we have had to negate gender constructs. Negating this particular construct does not serve to set me free in the way embracing it does. When I embrace it, I can value the carnage on BM’s last train from Amritsar, I can enjoy a Cricket Match in a way I could never enjoy American football, I can cherish the magnanimity in the philanthropic endeavours around me, I appreciate that had I not been Pakistani, I’d have been Indian and 62 years down from that particular moment, I know I don’t want to be called Indian.
And yet would I rather be called American/British/Australian/Canadian? The transnational/immigrant reality flashes before my eyes momentarily. I’d much rather have that life but I wouldn’t want to be any of those nationalities. For all the dilutions in my acculturated pot of being, of all the labels I could fall under, I think I can deal with “Pakistani” most comfortably, perhaps if for no other reason, for the fact that I was born with it, in much the same way that I was born with my name. I’ve disliked my name for years but I can’t swap it for any other.
It is only when I embrace the construct that I take ownership and only then does the path of active citizenship open itself to me. To negate the construct is to be in transit. In 2009 I do not celebrate freedom from the British, I celebrate the freedom to unpack my cases.
