"Mr. Wallace, can I have a 'sheet' of paper?" There was a dead silence in my world history class. Mr. Wallace, who was supposed to hand me the chapter two quiz on the Renaissance, gave me a baffled look. Annika, my roommate, shook her head. Confused, I repeated my request. "Can I have a 'sheet' of paper?" What came out of my mouth was not really the word 'sheet,' but rather an unprintable word that sounds a great deal like 'sheet.' In 2008, fresh from Korea, I unintentionally mispronounced many common English words. My stiff tongue, accustomed to Korean, would pronounce FedEx as 'fatass' and wedge as 'wedgie.' This frequent occurrence began to frustrate and embarrass me.
Being a minority in boarding school in West Virginia, I was desperate to fit somewhere. To fit in, I watched every TV show just to plan out my conversation for the next day. The immense cultural difference was one of the reasons I had to plan out my conversations. Apart from these shows, I had nearly nothing to spark conversation with my classmates. To distinguish myself from other 'smart Asians,' I hung out at the gym in my baggy sweatpants that came down to my buttocks, instead of doing my geometry homework. Every day, rather than work on my Spanish project, I practiced my pronunciation with my roommate Julia to sound more "American." I firmly believed that to be accepted by an American, I had to act like an American.
What I should have realized was that anything artificial does not taste as good as the home-made version. I grew weary of always contemplating what to say for the next day. So, I decided to let my mouth loose. When I transferred in my sophomore year, I quickly became a center of attention not because of my stories about "Grey's Anatomy," but for my 'cute hint of an Asian accent' and my stories about getting run over in the crowded Seoul subway. The Pikachu pen that I busily hid from my old friends always sparked a new conversation. I never had to plan out my stories, because people were asking me about 'Juwon." People were interested in 'Juwon.' At first, since I was used to an artificial conversation, doubt lingered when people approached me. However, their sincere approach peeled away the shell and revealed the yolk inside of me. I freely talked about myself instead of some TV shows. I proudly mentioned my newly-found love for Korea. I comfortably let out my thundering laugh whenever I wanted to. I think my relaxed brain caused my mouth muscles to loosen up.
Frederick Douglass once said, "I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and to incur my own abhorrence." Mr. Frederick Douglass assuredly knew that sincerity would move the hearts of millions. Today, I asked my friend Chandler to describe me in one word. "Sincere," Chandler said. I smiled.
Being a minority in boarding school in West Virginia, I was desperate to fit somewhere. To fit in, I watched every TV show just to plan out my conversation for the next day. The immense cultural difference was one of the reasons I had to plan out my conversations. Apart from these shows, I had nearly nothing to spark conversation with my classmates. To distinguish myself from other 'smart Asians,' I hung out at the gym in my baggy sweatpants that came down to my buttocks, instead of doing my geometry homework. Every day, rather than work on my Spanish project, I practiced my pronunciation with my roommate Julia to sound more "American." I firmly believed that to be accepted by an American, I had to act like an American.
What I should have realized was that anything artificial does not taste as good as the home-made version. I grew weary of always contemplating what to say for the next day. So, I decided to let my mouth loose. When I transferred in my sophomore year, I quickly became a center of attention not because of my stories about "Grey's Anatomy," but for my 'cute hint of an Asian accent' and my stories about getting run over in the crowded Seoul subway. The Pikachu pen that I busily hid from my old friends always sparked a new conversation. I never had to plan out my stories, because people were asking me about 'Juwon." People were interested in 'Juwon.' At first, since I was used to an artificial conversation, doubt lingered when people approached me. However, their sincere approach peeled away the shell and revealed the yolk inside of me. I freely talked about myself instead of some TV shows. I proudly mentioned my newly-found love for Korea. I comfortably let out my thundering laugh whenever I wanted to. I think my relaxed brain caused my mouth muscles to loosen up.
Frederick Douglass once said, "I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others, rather than to be false, and to incur my own abhorrence." Mr. Frederick Douglass assuredly knew that sincerity would move the hearts of millions. Today, I asked my friend Chandler to describe me in one word. "Sincere," Chandler said. I smiled.
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