Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
My Other Half
The woman standing in front of me bows her head deeply, her hands neatly at her sides. The words flow quickly and fluidly from her mouth, with no breaks or pauses. She finishes, straightens up, and smiles at me. I glance to my left at my mother, who raises her eyebrows and gestures for me to act.
My turn.
"Kotoshimo..." Wait, what was the rest of it? I turn to my mother again, who nods her head and mouths "yoroshiku onegaishimasu." With her help I finish my sentence, the words fumbling and cracking as they leave my lips. I bow my head, hiding my ever-reddening face. The sounds and motions seem completely alien to me. I'll be in Japan in a matter of months. What will they think of me?
Here I was, a half-Japanese teenager, set to visit family in Japan and I could barely finish a New Year's greeting so simple for most Japanese. "Think of it this way. At most, grandmother can only be 50% ashamed of me, right?" I joked to my mom, hoping for laughter. No response.
As the trip drew nearer, the jokes subsided and the uneasiness grew - I knew deep down that visiting Japan meant facing my cultural identity, a subject that always confused me. Most of my 17 years have been spent in the U.S., so naturally I've adopted American food, American people, and an American way of thinking. Sure, I receive glimpses into Japanese culture through my mother's cooking and occasional stories, but otherwise I only pretend to understand my other half.
When the day came and I finally arrived in Japan, something had changed. Instead of shrinking into a state of anxiety like I expected, I grew to embrace my new surroundings. I reunited with my Obaachan, my grandmother, who insisted to her octogenarian friends that I am perfectly capable of using chopsticks and can eat just about any type of Japanese food she can put on my plate. I burned senko, or incense, for my ancestors and uncovered a spiritual connection with my Japanese bloodline I had never felt before. I learned the first two Japanese alphabets and summed up the courage to start a conversation with my intimidating cousins. Most importantly, I developed a passion for a culture I had never previously cared to explore. During those three weeks, I realized that while I did not exactly belong in Japan, it had always been deep inside of me.
Since my cultural transformation in Japan, I have been eager to discover my other half, especially with learning the rich language and traditions. While the question of who I am identity-wise may never have a definite answer, I am figuring out that the more I learn about my heritage, the less confusion I feel about being "half-Japanese". I take pride in knowing that the next time New Year's rolls around, I will say my annual greeting not with embarrassment and shame, but with poise and conviction.
Any critique would be helpful. Be critical please.
My Other Half
The woman standing in front of me bows her head deeply, her hands neatly at her sides. The words flow quickly and fluidly from her mouth, with no breaks or pauses. She finishes, straightens up, and smiles at me. I glance to my left at my mother, who raises her eyebrows and gestures for me to act.
My turn.
"Kotoshimo..." Wait, what was the rest of it? I turn to my mother again, who nods her head and mouths "yoroshiku onegaishimasu." With her help I finish my sentence, the words fumbling and cracking as they leave my lips. I bow my head, hiding my ever-reddening face. The sounds and motions seem completely alien to me. I'll be in Japan in a matter of months. What will they think of me?
Here I was, a half-Japanese teenager, set to visit family in Japan and I could barely finish a New Year's greeting so simple for most Japanese. "Think of it this way. At most, grandmother can only be 50% ashamed of me, right?" I joked to my mom, hoping for laughter. No response.
As the trip drew nearer, the jokes subsided and the uneasiness grew - I knew deep down that visiting Japan meant facing my cultural identity, a subject that always confused me. Most of my 17 years have been spent in the U.S., so naturally I've adopted American food, American people, and an American way of thinking. Sure, I receive glimpses into Japanese culture through my mother's cooking and occasional stories, but otherwise I only pretend to understand my other half.
When the day came and I finally arrived in Japan, something had changed. Instead of shrinking into a state of anxiety like I expected, I grew to embrace my new surroundings. I reunited with my Obaachan, my grandmother, who insisted to her octogenarian friends that I am perfectly capable of using chopsticks and can eat just about any type of Japanese food she can put on my plate. I burned senko, or incense, for my ancestors and uncovered a spiritual connection with my Japanese bloodline I had never felt before. I learned the first two Japanese alphabets and summed up the courage to start a conversation with my intimidating cousins. Most importantly, I developed a passion for a culture I had never previously cared to explore. During those three weeks, I realized that while I did not exactly belong in Japan, it had always been deep inside of me.
Since my cultural transformation in Japan, I have been eager to discover my other half, especially with learning the rich language and traditions. While the question of who I am identity-wise may never have a definite answer, I am figuring out that the more I learn about my heritage, the less confusion I feel about being "half-Japanese". I take pride in knowing that the next time New Year's rolls around, I will say my annual greeting not with embarrassment and shame, but with poise and conviction.
Any critique would be helpful. Be critical please.