In our family, a simple red ribbon is more than fabric—it’s a symbol of our journey between India and New York, a reminder of our roots and resilience.
My parents, from Kolkata and New Delhi, moved to the U.S. with dreams of a better future. My father arrived in 1989 with little more than determination, and my mother later joined him, leaving behind familiarity for an uncertain life. They worked tirelessly, my father juggling jobs while studying, my mother finding strength in faith and hope.
The red ribbon first served a practical purpose—helping us identify our luggage amid countless suitcases. But over time, it became a symbol of our family’s perseverance. At baggage claim, its bright color stood out, a small but powerful reminder of our connection, no matter how far we traveled.
Trips to India were more than vacations; they were homecomings. We visited grandparents, heard stories of our parents’ childhoods, and immersed ourselves in bustling markets, festive celebrations, and quiet moments of prayer. These experiences reinforced our dual identity—deeply rooted in our heritage yet shaped by opportunities in America.
Now, as a college freshman, I reflect on what this tradition means for my future. My parents’ sacrifices gave me opportunities they never had, and I carry the responsibility of honoring their struggles. Someday, I may tie a red ribbon to my suitcase, passing on its meaning to my own children—a simple thread woven with love, sacrifice, and the journey that defines us.

– SH

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant