The White Sikhs

*No one is more faithful to a religion than a convert.*

This is a shout-out to my white American fellow Sikhs.

When I ran away to a commune on Staten Island, NY, when I was thirty, I met a white American Sikh man. He was so respectful; he really was a gentleman.

We didn’t really fall in love or anything, but he was a nice guy.

He wore a turban and was far more religious than I was. But he was also a hippie. It was a commune, after all.

I was crazy at the time, so I wasn’t capable of making real friends. But I remember he walked me to my room at night and made sure I got home safely.

I wonder if we got together because we were both Sikh. Every Caucasian Sikh I’ve ever met has been fascinating.

I’m fascinated by these white dudes walking around with turbans. Many of the women wear turbans as well. Many of them have taken Amrit, the Sikh initiation ceremony.

I recently heard of a trans woman who studied world religions and decided Sikhism was the religion that resonated the most with her. Like, wow! Right? How cool is that?

There are so many layers of cultural fusion here that it’s blowing my mind.

I went to a Sikh seminar once, and this pretty religious guy said to me in private, “The reason Sikhism has such a small population is that only a minority of people can handle the truth.”

Preach, my brother!

He makes a valid point.

White Sikhs used to come to our Sikh camps when I was a kid. I remember this one guy saying that even if you don’t know what the words mean in a shabad or kirtan, you should just get into the music as if you were at a rock concert.

I still take that advice. I don’t understand a lot of the Punjabi in the Guru Granth Sahib. But I can sing like a rockstar.

I momentarily thought of converting to Buddhism freshman year of college. Then I realized I’m not a religious person. Buddhism is a beautiful religion. But I’m okay just being a bad Sikh.

Honestly, if I were Christian, Jewish, or anything like that, I wouldn’t go to the trouble of converting to Sikhism and wearing a turban. But I have nothing but respect for those who wear turbans and don’t cut their hair.

Obviously, the reason people convert to Sikhism isn’t so they can wear a turban. They do it for the beauty of the shabads and the spirituality.

I’ve met some American and Australian white Sikhs who wake up every morning and perform kirtan themselves, playing harmoniums. We just listen to it on the radio. They are committed.

The word Sikh means disciple. There’s a line attributed to the tenth Guru, Guru Gobind Singh Ji, that my grandfather used to recite to me: Rahat pyara mujko, Sikh pyara nahee. It roughly means, “I love the discipline, not the disciple.”

All my life, my father would tell me, “Regulate your life.”

I have discipline, and then I don’t. OK, let’s be real: I don’t. But I am making a real effort. I wish I could get up every day and meditate first thing in the morning, write every single day, and do yoga while I’m at it.

I may be capable of it. I may not. But either way, it’s just not me. However, I have a deep respect for discipline. Even though I secretly think it’s boring.

nina

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