Personal Narrative: Myself And My Cultural Identity

Growing up as a first generation Chinese-American, I felt as if I was stranded in the void between two worlds, isolated and alone. At school, I hid my Chinese self and tried to be more ‘American’ in order to fit in. At home, I then carefully tucked away my American half and acted the dutiful Chinese son to please my parents. If Chinese and American were two planets, I was a vagabond flitting back and forth between them, unsettled and insecure, never quite belonging in either one.

In my junior year of high school, one pivotal experience transformed the way I viewed myself and my cultural identity. I met and quickly bonded with a Chinese exchange student over our shared taste for Taiwanese pop star Jay Chou. Our friendship blossomed from that

unassuming seed, and I introduced her to my other friends, many of whom were fellow day students. Together, we went on laughter-filled excursions to the local Danbury mall, watched hilarious YouTube comedy sketches, and even sampled classic Chinese dishes like the unfortunately translated but delicious “husband and wife lungs.” Through mutual exposure to unfamiliar things, our little group became a fertile ground for cross-cultural pollination. In addition, I began to understand that in any community, it is ultimately individuals working on a grassroots level–individuals just like us–who have the power to foster an atmosphere of inclusivity. And I was proud of my own role as the “glue” that could integrate a day student from Waterbury, Connecticut and an international scholar from Shanghai into a single harmonious group of friends.

When the end of the year inevitably rolled around and my new friend prepared to return to Shanghai for the summer, I felt honored and touched when she told me how much my presence–a welcoming face, a shared language–had meant to her as an exchange student in an unfamiliar environment. We promised to keep in touch and exchanged farewells.

As I walked home that night, I reflected on the conversations we shared, the memories we created, and the lessons we taught each other. And at that moment, I somehow knew that I had ceased to be the insecure and confused teenager I had been when we first met. With her help, I had grown and become more comfortable in my own skin; I had finally found my place in the cosmos. I recalled the way she had thanked me for my friendship. No, I thought to myself. I should be the one thanking you.