As I prepare myself to enter a whole new social and academic world known as college, dorm accessories, tough classes, and living on my own aren't the only things on my mind. I have always been mindful on how I portray myself to every person I meet; I give them a good dose of who I really am while censoring myself enough to give a good and lasting impression. The idea of who I am inspired me to write about being an individual, to write about different viewpoints of issues that are usually only analyzed with a black and white spectrum.

I will begin with a topic that has always been a part of me: cultural identity. My mother taught a culture class at my Chinese academy for students from grades 7 - 12. In two to three lessons a year, she and students discussed what it is like to be Chinese American. Students had a history lesson about how and when Chinese people immigrated to America and got to talk about modern issues of being Chinese in the United States. So you can see why this could be an important topic to me.

I am confident enough to say that I am a young Chinese American woman. I am both extremely proud of my Chinese heritage and proud to be a citizen of these great united states. In some of the lessons my mother taught, we talked about identity crises. Are we Chinese? Are we American? Can we truly be both? My answer to all of the above is yes. There is a huge misconception, I believe, that identifying oneself is purely an internal conflict. How you define yourself is who you are. However, no matter how much I believe that I can be both American and Chinese, most of the population seems to beg to differ.

Just a few months ago, my mother asked me whether I have ever wanted to be white. Although the question caught me off guard, I could see from where she was coming. For my entire life all of my close friends have been white (My brother on the other hand socialize mostly with Asians). Also, my Chinese isn't quite up to par; I can understand and speak quite well, but I'm essentially illiterate. However, I immediately sounded offended, answered no, and gave a drawn out explanation on why I was proud to be Chinese. About a month later, I was chatting with my dad and told him that I was planning on having my future children learn Chinese, no matter what race their father was. I was expecting some sort of applause for my efforts to continue to teach my children about the Chinese culture, but instead I received a sarcastic scoff. In essence he told me that I wasn't Chinese enough to make my children go to Chinese school. This is when I realized something very important: my family thinks I'm white. As outlandish as this sounds, it's true. They honestly believe that I am not proud to be Chinese because of my social circle and that I cannot read and write as well as they do. Somehow the fact that I can speak and understand Chinese, can't live for 2 days without steamed white rice [not to mention most of my favorite foods are authentically Chinese], and willingly have celebrated every Chinese holiday since I was born means nothing.

As I mentioned before, all of my closest friends are white, and in my large group of friends, I'm still the only Asian. No matter how much I know my friends love me and I reciprocate those feelings, it's hard for some people to ignore that I'm always the only Asian. I say that my friends are "white" because they are all grouped together like that. I am only singled out as Asian even though my group includes a Jew, native Russian, and several other very cultured individuals. Among all of this, I still am the victim of racist messages that deny that I am a true American. I am still asked where I was born with the assumption that I immigrated from China (I was born in Lanham, Maryland and raised in McLean, Virginia). To most people, I am still a foreigner even though I hold no accent, dress no differently, but look "different". Asians only make up 3% of the U.S. population and Chinese by themselves make up about 1%. An American is an American is an American no matter what percentage of the population one represents.

All of these conflicting ideas makes it understandable that I could have some major internal conflict in which I cannot associate myself with either side. However, those ideas are how other perceive me. I may never be accepted fully by either Chinese or Americans, but I will always accept both as who I am.


`Carol

My Name is Carol Lee. I'm a freshman at RIT, and these are my mind doodles.

- 17 yrs old
- Chinese American
- Photographer
- Graphic Designer
- Professional Food Eater

C12Studios
Alex Mitchell
deviantArt

As I prepare myself to enter a whole new social and academic world known as college, dorm accessories, tough classes, and living on my own aren't the only things on my mind. I have always been mindful on how I portray myself to every person I meet; I give them a good dose of who I really am while censoring myself enough to give a good and lasting impression. The idea of who I am inspired me to write about being an individual, to write about different viewpoints of issues that are usually only analyzed with a black and white spectrum.

I will begin with a topic that has always been a part of me: cultural identity. My mother taught a culture class at my Chinese academy for students from grades 7 - 12. In two to three lessons a year, she and students discussed what it is like to be Chinese American. Students had a history lesson about how and when Chinese people immigrated to America and got to talk about modern issues of being Chinese in the United States. So you can see why this could be an important topic to me.

I am confident enough to say that I am a young Chinese American woman. I am both extremely proud of my Chinese heritage and proud to be a citizen of these great united states. In some of the lessons my mother taught, we talked about identity crises. Are we Chinese? Are we American? Can we truly be both? My answer to all of the above is yes. There is a huge misconception, I believe, that identifying oneself is purely an internal conflict. How you define yourself is who you are. However, no matter how much I believe that I can be both American and Chinese, most of the population seems to beg to differ.

Just a few months ago, my mother asked me whether I have ever wanted to be white. Although the question caught me off guard, I could see from where she was coming. For my entire life all of my close friends have been white (My brother on the other hand socialize mostly with Asians). Also, my Chinese isn't quite up to par; I can understand and speak quite well, but I'm essentially illiterate. However, I immediately sounded offended, answered no, and gave a drawn out explanation on why I was proud to be Chinese. About a month later, I was chatting with my dad and told him that I was planning on having my future children learn Chinese, no matter what race their father was. I was expecting some sort of applause for my efforts to continue to teach my children about the Chinese culture, but instead I received a sarcastic scoff. In essence he told me that I wasn't Chinese enough to make my children go to Chinese school. This is when I realized something very important: my family thinks I'm white. As outlandish as this sounds, it's true. They honestly believe that I am not proud to be Chinese because of my social circle and that I cannot read and write as well as they do. Somehow the fact that I can speak and understand Chinese, can't live for 2 days without steamed white rice [not to mention most of my favorite foods are authentically Chinese], and willingly have celebrated every Chinese holiday since I was born means nothing.

As I mentioned before, all of my closest friends are white, and in my large group of friends, I'm still the only Asian. No matter how much I know my friends love me and I reciprocate those feelings, it's hard for some people to ignore that I'm always the only Asian. I say that my friends are "white" because they are all grouped together like that. I am only singled out as Asian even though my group includes a Jew, native Russian, and several other very cultured individuals. Among all of this, I still am the victim of racist messages that deny that I am a true American. I am still asked where I was born with the assumption that I immigrated from China (I was born in Lanham, Maryland and raised in McLean, Virginia). To most people, I am still a foreigner even though I hold no accent, dress no differently, but look "different". Asians only make up 3% of the U.S. population and Chinese by themselves make up about 1%. An American is an American is an American no matter what percentage of the population one represents.

All of these conflicting ideas makes it understandable that I could have some major internal conflict in which I cannot associate myself with either side. However, those ideas are how other perceive me. I may never be accepted fully by either Chinese or Americans, but I will always accept both as who I am.


`Carol