The Best at It

In these chapters, the novel’s primary external conflict begins. Rahul’s quest is spurred on by a story told to him by Bhai about Rahul’s grandmother gaining recognition from her peers by becoming the best engineering student. Initially, Bhai tries to engage Rahul in conversation about his checking behavior and stressors. Rahul won’t talk about these things, but Bhai is supportive and loving and continues to adapt the way he reaches out to Rahul, telling him a family story. However, this version of the moral of the story leaves out questions of why and how one dedicates themselves to something in their journey toward Figuring Out and Accepting One’s Identity. This omission highlights the complexity of Rahul’s struggle: Unlike his grandmother, whose goals were personally meaningful and suited to her skills, Rahul’s drive stems from external pressures and a need for validation. This distinction underscores the importance of intrinsic motivation in shaping identity. Rahul’s grandmother dedicated herself to something that she was good at but that no one thought she could do because of gender discrimination. The “why” and “how” of Rahul’s grandmother’s dedication to success in her story is very important to the overall moral of her story because it highlights the nuances of each individual experience with identity.

Rahul wants to become the “best” at something that will impress other people, not satisfy his own goals. He doesn’t ignore bullying: He lets it actively guide his choices. Brent goads Rahul into trying out for the football team. He tells Rahul that he’ll see him at tryouts, “[u]nless for some secret reason, it makes [him] uncomfortable to hang out with Justin” (80). The implied threat—that Brent will out Rahul if he doesn’t try out—makes football the first thing Rahul tries to become the best at. Brent’s comment uses manipulation and societal expectations of masculinity to trap Rahul into performing an identity that is not his own. This highlights how societal norms around gender and sexuality can be weaponized as a form of control. However, unlike his grandmother, who worked hard at something she was passionate about and suited for, Rahul tries to rapidly change his identity and physicality. He begins reading football how-tos and working out in his room to get a “massive chest” (83). Rahul envies certain physical characteristics that he associates with normative masculinity. His fixation on physical changes represents his internalized pressures to conform to societal ideals of what it means to be masculine. These efforts, however, are superficial and disconnected from his authentic self, reflecting how external pressures can distort one’s journey toward self-acceptance.

This instinct is fanned by people like Vinay Uncle. When discussing Rahul’s football tryout, Vinay uses the repetition of a single line to question Rahul’s masculinity and sexuality. First, Vinay says, “Boys should play football” (89). He puts the emphasis on the modal verb “should” to emphasize which types of behaviors are supposedly acceptable among a certain gender. In this construction, football is an essential exercise in the experience of boyhood. When Rahul’s dad protests, Vinay repeats, “Boys should play football” (90). This repetition puts the emphasis on the subject of the sentence, “boys.” The stress in this version emphasizes the identity category of “boys.” It implies that without football, the identity category itself, and the masculinity it compromises, are threatened. This use of language demonstrates how societal norms are reinforced through repetition and subtle shifts in emphasis, perpetuating harmful stereotypes about gender roles and masculinity. Vinay has already made prejudiced comments about Rahul’s sexuality—in frameworks that uphold heterosexuality as normative and view gayness as a threat or compromise to constructs of traditional masculinity. These remarks not only demean Rahul but also illustrate how microaggressions perpetuate larger systems of oppression. For Rahul, they exacerbate his existing insecurities and intensify his efforts to meet these unattainable standards.

Comments such as these, from Vinay and Brent, compel Rahul to become the “best” at things he is not naturally suited for or passionate about. Rahul does something similar when preparing for his audition: He critiques his “brown toothpick” arms and skin, editing his headshot to appear whiter with a smaller nose. While not a contact sport like football, Rahul’s next adventure, acting, is still physical in that one’s physical features are relevant and highly visible to the profession. This shift from football to acting mirrors Rahul’s deeper struggles with intersectional aspects of his identity, as he navigates societal pressures around race, ethnicity, and appearance alongside those of masculinity and sexuality. This leads Rahul into another cycle of self-critique and the pursuit of what he perceives as normative, this time in the realm of race and ethnicity rather than gender and sexuality. Rahul’s over-editing of his headshot reveals how internalized racism and colorism fuel his insecurities, compelling him to erase the very traits that define his unique identity. Rahul continues to let outside influences and pressures dictate his behavior rather than staying true to himself, despite the fact that the stress created by this bullying exacerbates Rahul’s obsessions and compulsions. This internal conflict highlights the interconnectedness of the memoir’s key themes of figuring out and accepting one’s identity and Navigating Bullying and Mental Health as a Teen, as Rahul’s journey toward self-acceptance is repeatedly hindered by the external forces of societal expectations and bullying.