Growing Up as a First Generation Asian American

As a child, I often felt like I had to live between two identities: American and Asian.

At school, I was a regular kid trying to make friends and learn among mostly white kids. At home, I was trying to please my parents by engaging in cultural traditions, such as eating traditional food.

The hard part about feeling like I needed to live two separate identities was feeling like I needed to assimilate to the American lifestyle. I was made fun of because of the food I brought for lunch, my black hair, and my relatively smaller eyes. I grew up wanting to be white with blonde hair and blue eyes if that meant I didn’t have to be subjected to bullying because of something I couldn’t control.

My parents, at this point, had lived in America for more than two decades. My mother understood the importance of assimilating in order for our family to avoid being stereotyped in any capacity. In elementary and middle school, I recall my mother complaining about feeling unheard when it came to PTA meetings and wanting her to try harder to voice her opinion (she was one Asian among white women). I was taught the principles of letting other people speak when it’s their turn and the importance of hearing other people’s opinions instead of inserting my own, but that principle seemed to disappear once I started to understand what racism was.

It wasn’t until the start of college when I started to understand how racism affected me as a young kid and how being Asian in a predominantly white community left me feeling empty. I went to school in Marin County and despite growing up in a wealthy community, I was not wealthy myself. I can remember times when my white friends would poke fun at my inability to afford European vacations, specifically when they said how Asians should be rich because all of us are in the medical profession. But that’s not necessarily the case. My mom worked in finance and my dad was a chef.

It recently occurred to me that this stereotype isn’t doing Asians any good. It reinforces the idea that anyone of Asian descent has to work in medicine in order to be considered accomplished and if they aren’t, they don’t deserve to be in America. When I would get a bad grade on an assignment, my white friends would poke fun at how I’m usually the smart one but I must’ve slipped up somewhere. Comments like that left me feeling worthless and I constantly beat myself over knowing I could’ve done better if I had studied harder.

I took these comments to heart and let them influence the way I lived because I didn’t want anyone to think I didn’t deserve to live in America despite being born here. Like any other American-born citizen, I’m entitled to constitutional rights guaranteed by the government but others didn’t see it that way. This country was founded by immigrants, so why doesn’t my family enjoy the same benefits?

There was never room to talk about race and I never got the chance the think about how racism affected me. I never wanted to seem like anything other than a regular American when I was with my white friends because I didn’t want to be made fun of for my cultural background. I avoided talking about my life at school with my extended family because I didn’t want to be accused of forgetting where my family came from. I often tried to put different masks on depending on the group of people I was with. I never could truly celebrate my existence without having to think about how other people will respond.

This is the reason why I think people should stop saying “I don’t see color.” This phrase reinforces the idea that there isn’t any cultural or ethnic differences between the white folk and other races and ethnicities. Too often do I see white Americans scoff at immigrant families celebrating their heritage, disregarding the longevity of these cultures and importance of diversity. Saying “I don’t see color” means you’re telling me you don’t see me as Asian, but you see me as another person of color in your community that you tolerate. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with being born white. But there is something wrong with ignoring where I come from and how I don’t want to choose between being American and being Asian American in favor of preserving white America.

I don’t want to choose between leaving my identity at home or bringing it with me wherever I go. I want people to understand that my culture is part of who I am. I want to feel comfortable talking about my upbringing and growing up in an Asian household without people thinking my customs are weird.

I want to be celebrated, not accepted.