“hErITAGE” IS ThE FIrST word IN my family dictionary, a noun and adverb, for who we are and how we live. My parents taught me that my heritage defines my identity. Through honorific speech towards my elders and adherence to traditional values, I accepted Korean customs as part of the duality that defines my life in America. Yet, a turbulent disunity stormed under that surface of peaceful coexistence. Though I outwardly represented the model Korean-American son, I loathed fitting this stereotypical mold. My shell was so well-constructed, however, that others mistook me for a successful immigrant. I felt as if I were ripped from the very fabric of my American birthplace, and plunged into a vacuum between my ancestral home and the world I lived …show more content…
50 Successful Ivy League Application Essays98 While struggling with this chain, however, I came to appreciate what my heritage offered. As a martial arts instructor, I supported students in building discipline and character. As a bilingual tutor, I helped immigrant children adapt to life in America. Soon, I realized that my heritage was an instrument for harmonizing personal development with service to others. When I was selected to serve in the HOBY World Leadership Congress, my family’s financial circumstances did not cover the $1,350 required fee. By infusing my American entrepreneurial energy with Asian medicine, I covered the cost by selling herbal products at my martial arts studio. Though the novelty of my venture brought me to the verge of bankruptcy, I persisted. By researching products, competitors and clientele, I streamlined my inventory to best serve my customers. Eventually, I created a business aimed at offering others a healthy lifestyle. Sweaty students gulped green tea and chocolate-flavored snacks, dropping dollars for the cause that lay within my cardboard cashbox. Supported by outside donations, I became greater L.A.’s ambassador in Washington D.C. Infused with new inspiration, I returned with a project grant
In their pursuit of assimilating and calling the US home, they had forged a new identity of Hmong Americans. (Yang, 203) Being Hmong American meant striving to move up the economic ladder and determining one’s own future. They understood that for them to realize their American dream and their “possibilities”, it could only be done so through “school”. (Yang, 139) Yang realized her dream by attaining a Master’s of Fine Arts from Columbia University and publishing books about the Hmong story.
Chang-Rae Lee’s Native Speaker expresses prominent themes of language and racial identity. Chang-Rae Lee focuses on the struggles that Asian Americans have to face and endure in American society. He illustrates and shows readers throughout the novel of what it really means to be native of America; that true nativity of a person does not simply entail the fact that they are from a certain place, but rather, the fluency of a language verifies one’s defense of where they are native. What is meant by possessing nativity of America would be one’s citizenship and legality of the country. Native Speaker suggests that if one looks different or has the slightest indication that one should have an accent, they will be viewed not as a native of America, but instead as an alien, outsider, and the like. Therefore, Asian Americans and other immigrants feel the need to mask their true identity and imitate the native language as an attempt to fit into the mold that makes up what people would define how a native of America is like. Throughout the novel, Henry Park attempts to mask his Korean accent in hopes to blend in as an American native. Chang-Rae Lee suggests that a person who appears to have an accent is automatically marked as someone who is not native to America. Language directly reveals where a person is native of and people can immediately identify one as an alien, immigrant, or simply, one who is not American. Asian Americans as well as other immigrants feel the need to try and hide their cultural identity in order to be deemed as a native of America in the eyes of others. Since one’s language gives away the place where one is native to, immigrants feel the need to attempt to mask their accents in hopes that they sound fluent ...
When asked to define ones cultural identity people usually take the path that leads to their country of origin. They describe their beliefs and tradition which mirrors the values of people within that geographic location. But what about the people who are torn between two cultures? How would they define their cultural identity? This is the problem faced by Henry Park, the protagonist of the book Native Speaker by Chang-Rae Lee. Originally from Korea, he immigrated to the United States with his parents when he was little. However, his struggle of trying to find his acceptance into the American culture still continues. The book outlines his endless uncertainty of trying to define his cultural identity and his feelings as an outsider to the American Culture. Not being able to commit to either of the cultures leaves Henry confused regarding his true Cultural identity which Chang very artfully presents as a fuzzy line between the American and Korean Culture.
I believe that my cultural identity is something I must preserve. I realize now that my culture is what sets me apart from others. The struggle of learning to preserve my identity as a second generation Nepalese- American will be one that I will have forever. However, this does not prevent me from finding a balance between the two worlds that I am apart
One’s cultural identity consists of their race, gender, socioeconomic status, age, religion, and so on. Being aware of your own cultural identity is just as important as being aware of other’s. People’s cultural identity defines who they are, the privilege (or lack of privilege) they receive, and how society views them. It is important to understand that White individuals have more privileges than individuals of color. White individuals do not experience detriment and difficulties due specifically to their skin color and instead receive advantages. White privilege is defined as benefits that white individuals have that people of color do not (Kendall, 2012). The following walks through my personal cultural background, how it was shaped, defined, and developed, and limitations to my personal competencies.
My cultural identity, is Haitian American. My parents come from a country of beautiful landscape and valleys of the hidden treasures of knowledge, diverse people, and rustic towns. My parents walked up steep plateaus for water, laid in grassy plains for peace, and dive into the sea for cooling in Haiti’s humid heat. Although, I come from a culture of deep history, the first country to gain independence in the result of a successful slave rebellion, my parents knew the plague of suffering Haiti’s battle with will not recover through the poverty, unemployment, and illiteracy. As Haiti fought through its demons, my parents fought to provide plentiful opportunity for their family and immigrated to the United States of America.
which I feel that I have the best of both worlds. Along with my mother’s
Something that has always fascinated me is the confrontation with a completely different culture. We do not have to travel far to realize that people really lead different lives in other countries and that the saying "Home sweet home" often applies to most of us. What if we suddenly had to leave our homes and settle somewhere else, somewhere where other values and beliefs where common and where people spoke a different language? Would we still try to hang on to the 'old home' by speaking our mother tongue, practising our own religion and culture or would we give in to the new and exciting country and forget our past? And what would it be like for our children, and their children? In Identity Lessons - Contemporary Writing About Learning to Be American I found many different stories telling us what it is like to be "trapped" between two cultures. In this short essay I aim to show that belonging to two cultures can be very confusing.
She has never had to experience the idea of fitting in with her own culture. Being American is simply natural and a way of life for her. Traveling to another country, especially to one that was nothing like she expected it to be, helped to her stumble upon some important insights. She states being away from her own culture did not change her but made her able to realize what values and habits were the most important to her. In the other story, author Patricia was of Korean descent, but was born and raised here in America. Due to her Korean descent Patricia never really knew for sure where she belonged. She used a name to describe it, “hyphenated Americans,” because she looks like she is from another country but was born and raised here. People right on the streets of New York will ask her where she is from and compliment her on her good English skills. This makes it difficult to truly identify as an American. To really know what values and habits are her own. Traveling to Korea, visiting what they have called her homeland, taught Patricia some important insights of her own.
In “Everyday Use”, Alice Walker is exploring the concept of heritage as it applies to African-Americans. It appears to be set in the late ‘60s or early ‘70s. This was the time when African-Americans were struggling to define their personal identities. Many blacks who had stories of pain and injustice wanted to rediscover their African roots, and they were denying their American heritage to do so. In “Everyday Use,” Alice Walker argues that an African-American is both African and American.
Before I was five, I thought I was Chinese. However, I wondered why I couldn’t understand the Chinese patrons of Chinatown restaurants. Upon learning my true ethnicity, I pulled out a mammoth atlas we had under the bed. My father pointed to an “S”-shaped country bordering the ocean, below China. It was then that I learned my parents were refugees from Vietnam. “Boat people,” my mother, still struggling to grasp English back then, would hear kids whispering when she walked through the halls of her high school. Like many refugees, although my parents and their families weren’t wealthy when they came to America, they were willing to work hard, and like many Vietnamese parents, mine would tell me, “We want you to be success.”
My personal cultural identity is a lot different compared to the society I am surrounded by. I am considered an outsider in my society. I am an outsider living in a constantly changing environment where there are many different kinds of people and many different cultural identities. In my culture we know how to respect people and their belongings, know how to work hard, use what we have while being thankful for it at the same time, and last we know how to stay true to ourselves in this very fast pace world of ours. I am a cowboy.
It was a sunny windless day; I was walking, suffocating, gasping for fresh air. A euphoric crowd invaded the streets asphyxiated by the steamy summer. People were shouting while frantically waving their colorful flags to celebrate the victories of their soccer teams. I watched them, surprised, intrigued and confused. I could not understand how they felt. It seems that it is impossible for humans to imagine a feeling that they have never experienced and I have never been gratified with national pride since I have always been a foreigner.
Every Christmas my whole family gathers the 25th and the 31st of December in my farm, in Tamesis, Colombia. What I mean by my whole family includes the following: 6 uncles, 6 aunts, 25 cousins, 2 grandparents, 14-second cousins and 6 great-uncles. I will mention several traditions in this following essay of what we do in Tamesis. We firmly believe that sticking to our traditions is really important for strong family ties.
Wait. Be still. Don't go over the line. Don't let go. Wait for it. "BANG!" My reactions were precise as I sprung out of the blocks. The sun was beating down on my back as my feet clawed at the blistering, red turf. With every step I took, my toes sunk into the squishy, foul smelling surface, as my lungs grasped for air. Everything felt the way it should as I plunged toward my destination. I clutched the baton in my sweaty palms, promising myself not to let go. My long legs moved me as fast as I could go as I hugged the corner of the line like a little girl hugging her favorite teddy bear. The steps were just like I had practiced. As I came closer to my final steps, my stomach started twisting and my heart beat began to rise. The different colors of arrows started to pass under my feet, and I knew it was time.