Personal Narrative: I Am American

My parents traveled thousands of miles, trying to get visa after visa, to finally end up in our home in America, and with them, they brought very narrow and specific values, and would spend the next several decades worrying that us kids might actually turn out….American. Ironic, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely thankful for having grown up with a different perspective on life, being bilingual and admiring my parents perseverance while creating a life in the face of struggle and discrimination. I did, however, miss out on things most American kids considered normal. For example, sleepovers, one of the most common american traditions, but according to my parents the only reason I would ever sleep at somebody else's house, was if

I’m stuck in this this awkward middle ground, a place from which I am trying to free myself from. The biggest thing any child of an immigrant will tell you they struggle with is self identification. The imbalance of the cultures really creates internal chaos. Due to my parents’ way of thinking, it’s almost like they never left home. I love my parents, but I strive to be different from them. What I love about growing up in this situation is that motivates me to want something different for myself. I don’t limit myself by cultural ideals or american norms. I choose to be completely my own. I am not my environment; I am a product of it. My life has been indirectly affected by my parents’ difficult experiences. Watching them allows me to figure out where I stand, where I want to stand, and the ability to stand for more than one thing. The mixture of these two cultures in my life has created a richer experience. The things my parents couldn’t teach me, I discovered on my own, which has contributed to my intellectual independence from them. My parents taught me determination in the face of adversity, which is ironic because it has made me determined to create my own views on the world, even when my parents wanted to write them out for