Every morning on the way to school, Mom would recite Jap Ji Sahib with me, helping me navigate some of the more complex sounds. Pauri by pauri, I memorized this prayer every day, and it became an essential part of my morning routine. My parents not only taught me the basic Sikh prayers, they took me to the Gurdwara weekly, encouraged me to play the harmonium, sing kirtan, and most importantly, do sewa. As I have grown, I have come to appreciate not only the inherent beauty in each of these acts but also the inner peace that accompanies the powerful symbolism of many of our traditions, such as universal equality. These are the principles of my Sikhi, and they have influenced me at every stage of my life—from thinking about what to do on a Saturday night to deciding upon a career path. Growing up in New Orleans, my Sikhism was fostered in a very small bubble. My parents taught me by modeling Sikh values, but the elderly people in the community could not really connect with our generation, especially since many in my generation did not want anything to do with Sikhism. After the first few years of Sikh camps, of the four kids my age, I was the only one who went to the Gurdwara willingly, singing shabads and serving langar. I didn’t mind getting teased for being too religious—I knew what was important to me. The New Orleans education system isn’t the best, so my parents decided to send me to Catholic schools for eight years. Unlike other parents in our Indian community, my parents were not at all afraid of my converting to another religion: Sikhism embraces all faiths—Guru Nanak Dev Ji said that “There are no Hindus, there are no Muslims,” pointing out that we’re all equal brothers and sisters, Waheguru’s children. As I was ostensibly different, I dealt with my share of ignorance and racism. Nevertheless, I shared my beliefs with those who were interested and learned from my classmates as well. In college, I had my first Sikh friends my age. We started a Sikh Students Association (SSA) to cultivate a community for the five or so Sikhs on campus and to educate our college community about Sikhism. This was my first Sikh peer group. Even though we came from all four corners of the country, we all shared the same values, said the same prayers, made the same jokes about Aunties and Uncles at Gurdwaras, and held the same ideas about what it meant to be Sikh. Now I had a Sikh family, and it was awesome! However, being Sikh is not always easy. Sikh men are often easily recognizable by their distinguished turbans. To save me from the hatred and incessant harassment my father and uncle endured, both here in America and in India, my parents decided to cut my hair from a young age. In New Orleans, I never felt my Sikhism challenged. But when I go to regions with larger Sikh populations, I feel judged for not keeping my hair. Growing up, I was too religious; now, I’m not religious enough. My friends in my SSA always gently tease me about my penchant for explaining Sikh traditions with the equivalents in the Christian community. But my experience in Catholic school taught me several important lessons. First, I learned how to interact with those who are significantly different from me, introducing me to interfaith coalition building, a critical skill and attitude in our multicultural society. I learned how to explain Sikhism to others, helping me foster my skills as a leader and representative of Sikhism. These skills have translated well during my college experience. At my University, I was invited to give a blessing to the incoming class during the Orientation Week Opening Exercises. I was honored to share my Sikh traditions and teachings with the entire student body composed of people from around the country and around the world. Before I spoke to the 1400 young freshmen, I got very emotional. I imagined a younger version of myself sitting out there, someone else who had grown up all alone in his Sikhi, about to hear me strongly proclaim “Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa, Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh,” and then recite “Poota Maata Ki Asees.” As a Sikh leader in my community, I wear my religion on my sleeve proudly. It is my own understanding of Sikhism, but it is definitively mine; and Guru Nanak Dev Ji taught us that our religion is our individual relationship between us and Waheguru. I believe I am making my own mark on my communities, in my own way. I pray and hope that I will continue to grow in my understanding of Sikhism and for now, this is how I live out my values. -Kanwal Matharu, LDP Class of 2012 To learn more about SikhLEAD, please click here.