When I was 16, I noticed a small part of my scalp was visible. Thankfully, I was blessed with stereotypical thick, curly, and unruly South Indian hair, making it easy to cover up. For the rest of high school, I kept my hair above my shoulders so the curl would have enough "bounce" to hide any balding spots.
As young Americans ourselves, many of us first-generation, we know the difficulties that befell our families who chose to trod off the beaten path and seek better lives here in the West. We can attest to the financial, social, religious, cultural, and linguistic ostracism that our families have challenged, time and again, because we've degradingly witnessed it first-hand.
I've been inhaling secondhand Christianity for so many Decembers that the irony took a moment to register. Here is a little girl who, not unlike me as a child, was curious and learning about cultures and religions different from her own. Her innocence is still untainted by the schisms of race and wore henna for an appeal that's independent of cultural significance, much like I give and receive presents for Christmas every single year.