East Meets West (Perspective of a Melting Pot)

In third grade, I brought dumplings to school for the first time. I’d cut them into halves and tucked them into my blue containers in my blue flower lunch box and I was proud. I loved dumplings and I’d never brought them to school before.

During lunch, as I was eating, one of my friends said, “Ew, what is that smell?” and I stayed quiet because I didn’t know what it was.

The second time I brought dumplings to school, another one of my friends said, “Who farted?”

The third time, my only Indian friend -- the only Indian person in the whole school -- leaned in and whispered to me, “I know what the smell is,” and she pointed to the dumplings in my plastic blue container.

There was no fourth time.

In retrospect, I realize that almost my entire elementary school was white. I was the minority. I was the token Asian student. However, I didn’t realize that until I went to a larger middle school, where there were other Asian students.

It wasn’t difficult. I was never bullied or singled out. But after elementary school, I realized that I was different and I became very self-conscious of the actions of my mother and myself.

I’ve come to realize that, even with my Eastern upbringing, there are some aspects of my family and of my values that are rooted in more Western philosophies. In America, my family has brought the best of both worlds -- East and West -- together in a mélange of ideas and ideals that neither are too conservative nor too liberal.

My parents pushed me. I would study hard over the summer -- a time when the rest of my friends were relaxing -- working on problems on the level of the grade I would be entering. And those habits were ingrained in me; just this previous summer, I found myself checking out a Calculus and US history textbook over the summer to prepare for the school year.

I’ll be the first to admit that the work was grueling. The endless practices that I was pushed into for piano and violin were the reasons as to why I became so good at those instruments, but were also the reasons as to why I eventually quit. There is something to be said about doing something for yourself, and learning for yourself whether or not you enjoy something. There is something about being pushed to do something you may enjoy to the point where you no longer enjoy it. The summer work assigned to me was awful and I will never forget having to make flashcards for my multiplication tables in second grade.

When I reached high school, I found new friends. Some of them weren’t remotely interested in school or learning; I soon became jealous of them -- their easygoing demeanor, their casual vibes, and their nights out -- and tried to fit in with them. To an extent, I did. I started going out more, started using more words they used. And now, I have a little of both worlds, studying some nights and going out others.

I think being exposed to both a more Eastern upbringing at home and a Western lifestyle outside makes me a more well-rounded person. There are times when moderation is difficult: often times, the excitement of going out with friends will be all too alluring compared to a night spent studying, and I’ll give in, hang out with my friends instead of working. And other times, the workload of a high school student will seem endless, and I will lose myself in the work, unable to break the cycle.

And there is something to be said about living in a fusion, in a melting pot of ideas, where cultures blend together like oil paints on a palette. It’s such a unique position, to be able to experience the best of both worlds, and it’s something I’ve taken for granted.

I can go over to a friend’s house, order pizza and watch movies on Netflix, chat casually with their parents and say hello to their dog, and then, the very same day, I can come home and eat an authentic, ethnic meal prepared from scratch by my parents. It is the greatest kind of juxtaposition.

And for me, it’s normal. It’s a part of who I am; these Eastern philosophies and this Western upbringing make me into the person I am today, and for that, I am grateful. I am grateful for my parents, of course, and my friends. And since it’s almost Thanksgiving, I might as well say that I am thankful for the place that I call home -- a safe place -- the opportunities with which I’ve grown up with, the people I have around me, and the life that I live today. It’s not perfect, and I am thankful for those flaws as well; these flaws,these people, these cultures, these beliefs, this place around me make me who I am, their reflections evident in my personality and my identity today.