“Once you marry a non-Mizo, you are no longer one. Even if you give your children names in the zo language, they are not Mizos anyhow. I wouldn’t even call you Mizo-suak but rather Hnamdang.” ( – a Facebook post of a friend who is very dear to me, I am not against him in any way, I admire and respect him, just a little problem with this small post)
It would be right for our ancestors to prohibit love of different races because there were wars between tribes and people of different dialects, now why create wars where there are none?
First off, it is always good to have viewpoints and stand up for issues, issues like poverty, unemployment, inequality in status, corruption, the bad roads we travel on everyday, issues like the way we treat our dear widows, issues like depression that’s killed a youth in almost every other locality in Mizoram the past year. But would you call a fight for making sure a fellow Mizo girl doesn’t fall in love with someone who doesn’t have roots ingrained in Mizo land, an issue?
If you would have a pretty, smart Mizo girl marry you, broaden your views, look at the world, think of third-world problems and issues going on in the peace summit. A master degree and a government job doesn’t make you a man, it takes more, it takes more than ranting about people who shouldn’t marry other people in Facebook, it takes more than having an EcoSport car, it takes more than having an ex who is “model deuh”. It takes smart. Walk out of the little bubble where brains are imprinted with who is the head of the family and who is the head of the kitchen. Women should be masters at cooking, true, but give her off-days. Listen to her opinions. Having your way is not being ahead of the game always. Boasting about how you boss about at home to your pals points far from a happy home.
And to those who have happily married races other than our own, applaud them for putting in Mizo words as names for their little kids in cities where no one would make sense of ‘Lalliandawnga’ or the likes. For teaching them Mizo words right from the time they can spell out words, to make sure their culture is kept alive in their young one. For fighting to keep their Mizo-ness alive by practising the hospitality the tribe is famous for, by wearing a puan every week to church because she is still a Mizo, every cell and every last inch. You cannot un-proclaim what she has been born as. And while she’s playing with her little toddler, singing “Tumbailek, tumbailek,” watching her little one curl her fingers and release, feeling proud that her culture’s practice has been passed on, she scrolls through her Facebook feed and see posts such as yours.
There are hundreds dying by the hour due to floods, earthquakes, hunger, caste-system, differences in religion, and meanwhile our brains are busy texting out lines why a human can’t marry another human. The LGBTQ have it hard enough, atleast let the heterosexuals have some peace.
Please, feign hatred if a fellow Mizo woman would marry a beast of the animal kingdom, not because she is falling in love with another human being.