Hello dear followers. It’s been a busy time for learning and growing in this new country. As my husband and I have been getting used to daily life here, far away from our family and friends, I’ve found myself simultaneously  reflecting on family—the roles we play, who we include, how we structure it, and how we make it thrive.

The first seven years of my life were spent among two boisterous multi-generational households, the homes of my maternal and paternal grandparents. Weekdays were usually spent at my paternal grandparents’ flat – a three-bedroom apartment in the Bombay suburb of Khar. One bedroom was inhabited by my parents and me, the other by my paternal uncle and aunt, with the adjoining study for my two older cousins, and the last bedroom was my paternal grandparents’ sanctuary away from all of us! It was also the playroom where they taught me my first card games and recounted everything from ghost stories to tales about my father’s rambunctious childhood.

On the weekends, I often went over to my maternal grandparents’ flat – another three-bedroom apartment in their own building in a Bombay suburb called Bandra. My maternal grandparents lived in a building with my grandfather’s two brothers, my great uncles, and their families. As I would enter through the wrought-iron black gate and run down the slope, a voice above would shout “MERI…” Above, an imperious, eighty-something, wrinkled and mostly toothless lady with braided gray hair would be smiling and peering down from the balcony. For several early years, my great-grandmother was also a fixture, and I’d run upstairs to greet her before I could romp around or chill out with my grandparents, great uncles, or my mom’s cousins, who happily indulged me with chocolates, games, and outings to a nearby park or my beloved Juhu Beach.

This multi-generational family structure was the norm in bustling Bombay and its suburbs, where people oozed out of every corner of the city as space was at a premium. Even the upper middle-class, and sometimes the affluent out of a sense of respectability and respect for their elders, lived in the “joint family.” Three or four generations living together could be harmonious or cacophonous, but generally, children, young adults, and older generations co-existed while understanding cultural and economic necessities, and without much ado. Family traditions formed over several generations were retained, like fresh fish every Sunday for lunch at the Cementwala household, or conversation over cut fruit after dinner.

I had never lived in a nuclear family until I arrived in the United States, and initially I did not like it. I missed the busy-bodying of my grandmothers, the playful idling with my cousins, the indulgences of my elders. Of course, we observed the conventions of faith, which were important to both me and my parents. And while my parents have held on to some cultural traditions, I didn’t grow up with the same expectations placed upon other young girls with my roots.

In the absence of “the elders” and rejecting any feigned attempt at authoritarianism from my parents, I never asked for permission. I joined, and then announced, that I was participating in speech and debate, or singing in the school choir, or leaving Ireland for Israel to conduct research in the West Bank. That I had once left home for college instead of marriage never crossed our collective minds. I developed my own personality and identity, and perhaps at times to the chagrin of my parents and perhaps at times their source of pride, my identity was as Mariyam – not as my father’s or mother’s daughter. I determined my own path guided by my faith, not that of “the elders.” My mother sometimes reminds my father that he didn’t leave home until he was nearly 40, while his daughters left home at 18!

While this independence and individualism derived from our existence as a nuclear family has been a source of pride for us and a distinct facet of our American identity, I see the American landscape changing through our own story. We returned to our multi-generational roots even before COVID-19 ushered in the economic need to live jointly among American families. As my parents began to age, without a 401K plan or other nest eggs for retirement, and I simultaneously started moving around to more distant corners of the globe, we started living together by choice. We still spend significant parts of the year living together, even after I resettled in the DC metro area and got married. Comedian Hassan Minhaj has joked about his own South Asian parents making him their retirement plan, but this phenomenon is not just taking hold among South Asian American families or families of color.

During the pandemic, my millennial sister – who had lived independently since 18 — moved in with my husband and me. The arrangement that began as a desire for her not to be alone and far away during a global crisis became permanent and worked out for several reasons. We enjoyed each other’s company, have a very close bond, and benefited from pooled resources since we all needed common supports such as assistants/readers at home for certain disability-related needs. Our decision to live together had little to do with our culture or race; it made sense for practical purposes.

Despite recently relocating to my new country without my sister, what remains is an indisputable value and peace of mind in having your loved ones close to you, for me and for others. One person reflected that life is too short after suddenly losing one parent, and asked the other to move in because her mind wandered about the parent’s well-being every morning when that parent hadn’t immediately played their daily game of Scrabble via Smartphone! And my sister, who worked at length in higher education, has heard from many former students and colleagues about why they’re living with or, in some cases, moving back in with their parents.

There are pros and cons to these arrangements. However, the proliferation of multi-generational households will leave an impact on the American identity, which has been regarded and understood the world over as fiercely independent and individualistic. When you live with other people, you don’t just do as you will and wish. You share, you create community, and you learn and grow from and with each other.

Pooling and sharing resources also impacts generational wealth. Some time ago, I was invited to a gathering of friends and family in a stunning townhouse in a prominent Washington DC neighborhood renowned for maintaining its multicultural identity. That home has been in the family for several generations. As branches of the family have continued to grow and spread their wings, I saw them not only holding on to but also taking pride in their roots. Their individualism was not replaced by collectivism, but rather enriched and empowered by it.

And there are practical implications to the proliferation of the multi-generational household, such as consequences for the real estate market. In the DC metro, two- and three-bedroom condos and townhomes sell well. But if multi-generational households continue to grow, such spaces won’t suffice to accommodate larger families. Most urban planners, architects, and interior designers are still envisioning the American family as nuclear. Perhaps, if COVID and the persisting economic consequences become a distant memory, so will America’s flirtation with the multi-generational household. Regardless, the time we spend together in these arrangements will leave an imprint – some positive and some perhaps less so – on our fiercely independent, inherently individualistic American psyche.

What does family look like and mean to you? How does individualism weave into the fabric of family structure and culture where you live? Tell me in the comments or on social media. Until I talk to you again, take care!