"Asian American" to me

I was born on September 14th, 1988 in Royal Oak, Michigan. Lived all my life in two affluent suburbs of Metro-Detroit. Growing up I didn’t know what being an “Asian American” was. All I knew was the color of my skin set me apart. From the time I started school until I was 12 I led the typical “Asian (Chinese)” lifestyle. I went to Chinese school once a week, played the piano against my own will, read books, and dressed in a way that society deemed nerdy. Especially when I grew to an intelligible age, my view of Asian American became those things. The going to piano recitals where all the other nicely dressed Asian kids were, the moving up into a higher math class because I was deemed too smart, and of course the never getting picked for sports. All around me I saw similar Asian kids going through the same experience. But is that truly what it meant to me to be an “Asian American”.

I quickly came to loathe the experiences. Everything that made me “Asian” I despised. After the age of 12 I became a completely different kid. I started to wear contact lenses and I fashioned my hair to become like all the other white kids. I listened to popular music (N’sync was always better). And most importantly, I surrounded myself with non-Asian friends that were athletic and played sports. It was that which I felt distinguished me most from being an “Asian American”. The fact that I could play sports and was sociable proved to me this.

Yet for all my “whiteness” I of course could never escape what I truly am. This became apparent to me in numerous ways, but one in particular stands out. I went to a basketball tournament once with a friend, and was clearly one of the best players there. Near the end of the tournament, a few players on the other team started to call me Yao Ming and make other Asian related jokes (Jackie Chan and you get the picture). At the time I took it as a complement, but looking back it always makes me wonder why even on a neutral ground such as a basketball court, I couldn’t be just like one of the guys. Therefore, I still felt to be an Asian American was something to be ashamed of.

Finally, when coming to the University of Michigan, a place where close to 15% of the student body is “Asian”, the definition of Asian American becomes that much more important. Some people feel that being Asian American refers to going to Asian events or cultural shows. Others feel one must participate in Asian organizations, take Asian American classes, or fight for Asian American rights. I’ve even heard being Asian American requires one to major in certain areas, such as Engineering or Business.

In the end, I think everyone will and should have different definitions. The most important thing is to be true to oneself. Donating money to an Asian charitable foundation or participating in a rally for Asian American rights does not make one Asian American. Nor does playing piano or getting good grades. Ultimately, I feel as if one has to be at peace with themselves. It's not what you do or how much you do of it, but how you FEEL when you do it. It’s hard to explain, but I feel I am Asian American because I am happy with myself, with how I look, feel and carry myself. I am proud to be an Asian American, I am proud that I take part in an Asian organization, I was proud when China represented itself for the Olympics. Who knows, maybe I will donate money in the future, and maybe I will become an Asian human rights activist. But I will do those things because I feel proud to be an Asian American, and because I want to. The things I do now and in the future don’t determine my label as an Asian American. They are an effect of my pride and heritage, not a cause. And it is to what extend we do the things we do and how we carry ourselves when doing them that truly represents who we are.

This may be confusing to people reading it, but it makes sense to me, and I guess my point is that is all that really matters.