A Biracial Girl's Ode to San Francisco

By Indigo

“Born in San Francisco to a white mother and a Nepalese father, I exist in a state of in-between where the answer to that question of being from somewhere remains nebulous, as it is for many other biracial people.”

[Tabla music plays]

Indigo: It's a Tuesday night in San Francisco, and the thick fog outside my window is casting a deep chill throughout my house. I'm sitting under a pile of quilts all evening, and asking a bunch of my friends some questions about the city.

Indigo: What's one word that you would use to describe San Francisco?

Friend 1: Funky.

Indigo: You're the only person who's like, had a word ready to go. Like everyone has been like, “um, let me think about it. Um, I can't describe the city. It's so complex,” but you were just ready, you were like, “funky.”

Friend 1: Can I back up my answer?

Indigo: Yes, please do.

Friend 1: Okay. Well, personally, when I think of San Francisco, I think a lot about the Castro. Which I love. And when I was younger, I had an obsession with this house on the corner, in the Castro, and it had like a bunch of naked Barbies in the window, and it was mostly naked men Barbies, and they all have their penises out. And I think that's funky and fresh and charming and endearing.

Indigo: [laughs] Can I include that?

Friend 1: Yeah! [laughs].

Indigo: That's my close friend Mia, who attends the same high school as me here in the city. She's one of a long list of acquaintances and friends that I've called up tonight in a quest that I've invented for myself: the quest of figuring out why it is that I never have a definitive response to the question of where I'm from. Born in San Francisco to a white mother and a Nepalese father, I exist in a state of in-between where the answer to that question of being from somewhere remains nebulous, as it is for many other biracial people. I first think of San Francisco when I approached the question of my being from somewhere. After all, the city has been the stomping grounds for my past sixteen years of existence. Yet, for some reason, I always hesitate when people ask me where I'm from.

Friend 2: My favorite place in San Francisco is right outside the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate park. And… I think I went there a lot when I was little, but also, I opened my high school, um… acceptance letter, right there on the bench with my mom.

Friend 3: Growing up when I, like, figured out that San Francisco is one of like the most accepting cities, like, for LGBTQ+ communities, I thought was cool as well.

Friend 4: I mean, I can say I love SF, but like, admit it’s not perfect. I feel like that would be my answer, right? Sometimes, um, people on their hoverboards with their coffee, they'll attack you, on accident. If you walk out of buildings unexpectedly. I've almost gotten knocked over a few times.

Indigo: It was at this moment, listening to my friend, recount a San Franciscan tale of almost getting knocked over by a person on a hoverboard, that I realized that my not having a definite feeling of where I'm from is an oblivion that has made me who I am. After all, if this wasn't the case, would I be calling up my friends, asking for anecdotes about this fascinating, beautiful, diverse, and overall amazing city Probably not. And that's why this not knowing where I'm from deep down, is a blessing, not just in this case where I've gotten to know the city I live in better. But, in my entire life and how I look for the feeling of from-ness in everything, I do. The friendships make, the passions I pursue the adventures I decide to embark upon. And so, I'm not just okay with the fact that the question of where I'm from is something I'm constantly thinking about. I find it to be a beautiful thing, and a blessing.

[Guitar music plays]