Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated :)
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
On most mornings, I do not drag myself out of bed until I hear the clattering of pans and smell the aroma of eggs frying downstairs. They are not just any eggs; my dad serves them golden brown and crispy with a healthy squeeze of ketchup. I acknowledge that my morning dose of ketchup may seem weird, but the cool, glossy ketchup paired with crunchy egg is an undeniable culinary harmony. Each bite is a collision of east meets west, of eggs fried Chinese style paired with a classic American condiment. On these mornings, ketchup is no longer simply a tangy condiment but a representation of a cultural fusion that I have learned to thrive and evolve in.
I wondered what my friends would think about fried eggs and ketchup. I can just see then scrunching up their noses in disgust. There was a time when I wished my dad would cook scrambled eggs, because that's what my "American" friends would have eaten. I had wished that he would let me cut my own food with the help of a fork, and that he wouldn't send me off to school with a box of pungent cabbage dumplings he loved to make. I found it amusing yet disappointing that most of my formal documents had the words "alien" written on what I thought were the most conspicuous areas, even though I had lived in the states for nearly my whole life. Most of all, I wished that I was the typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, and that my parents did not have that awkward accent when we went to greet-the-teacher night. Did I actually want that? Was I supposed to want that?
Such awkwardness followed me to my native land. I found myself sticking out like a sore thumb even when I visited relatives in China. The uncles and aunts who helped raise me in my childhood now referred to me as the "American girl," even though I have sleek black hair and brown eyes like they do. Furthermore, the world I lived in revolved around Saturday orchestra rehearsals, the latest article in Time magazine, weekends in the laboratory, and the newest indie bands - a world out of touch from the frugality that they must endure and from which I was able to escape. Stemming from years of detachment, a growing language barrier shattered any hope left for understanding and personal connections. Because of that same detachment, not a single bone in my body could register the smell of my coal-mining hometown, the shabby fu sign on our weatherworn double doors, or the row upon row of clay shingles with any signs of familiarity or home. If I wasn't American or Chinese, then what was I?
I had an epiphany one day as I was eating my eggs. Eggs themselves were so bland and ketchup itself so tart and sharp; the combination of two extremes made a perfectly balanced intensity that still excite my taste buds. This single meal made me realize that maybe I didn't need to assimilate to a single culture; I walk the middle ground and have the ability to select the best from each culture to use to my advantage. For example, in negotiations, I now utilize both philosophies of Chinese complacency and American persistency. Concerning family, I exercise the Chinese traditions of honoring one's elders but retain the American sense of personal identity and opinions. In social scenes, I exhibit both Chinese restraint and a hint of American effervescence. My mind was finally able to release the cookie cutter mold I had identified with Chinese or American, and I was free to discover the hybrid me.
Now, there are no more complaints about eggs. Each morning, I am reminded of how unique my life is and how fortunate I am to be able to experience the wonders of two worlds.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
On most mornings, I do not drag myself out of bed until I hear the clattering of pans and smell the aroma of eggs frying downstairs. They are not just any eggs; my dad serves them golden brown and crispy with a healthy squeeze of ketchup. I acknowledge that my morning dose of ketchup may seem weird, but the cool, glossy ketchup paired with crunchy egg is an undeniable culinary harmony. Each bite is a collision of east meets west, of eggs fried Chinese style paired with a classic American condiment. On these mornings, ketchup is no longer simply a tangy condiment but a representation of a cultural fusion that I have learned to thrive and evolve in.
I wondered what my friends would think about fried eggs and ketchup. I can just see then scrunching up their noses in disgust. There was a time when I wished my dad would cook scrambled eggs, because that's what my "American" friends would have eaten. I had wished that he would let me cut my own food with the help of a fork, and that he wouldn't send me off to school with a box of pungent cabbage dumplings he loved to make. I found it amusing yet disappointing that most of my formal documents had the words "alien" written on what I thought were the most conspicuous areas, even though I had lived in the states for nearly my whole life. Most of all, I wished that I was the typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, and that my parents did not have that awkward accent when we went to greet-the-teacher night. Did I actually want that? Was I supposed to want that?
Such awkwardness followed me to my native land. I found myself sticking out like a sore thumb even when I visited relatives in China. The uncles and aunts who helped raise me in my childhood now referred to me as the "American girl," even though I have sleek black hair and brown eyes like they do. Furthermore, the world I lived in revolved around Saturday orchestra rehearsals, the latest article in Time magazine, weekends in the laboratory, and the newest indie bands - a world out of touch from the frugality that they must endure and from which I was able to escape. Stemming from years of detachment, a growing language barrier shattered any hope left for understanding and personal connections. Because of that same detachment, not a single bone in my body could register the smell of my coal-mining hometown, the shabby fu sign on our weatherworn double doors, or the row upon row of clay shingles with any signs of familiarity or home. If I wasn't American or Chinese, then what was I?
I had an epiphany one day as I was eating my eggs. Eggs themselves were so bland and ketchup itself so tart and sharp; the combination of two extremes made a perfectly balanced intensity that still excite my taste buds. This single meal made me realize that maybe I didn't need to assimilate to a single culture; I walk the middle ground and have the ability to select the best from each culture to use to my advantage. For example, in negotiations, I now utilize both philosophies of Chinese complacency and American persistency. Concerning family, I exercise the Chinese traditions of honoring one's elders but retain the American sense of personal identity and opinions. In social scenes, I exhibit both Chinese restraint and a hint of American effervescence. My mind was finally able to release the cookie cutter mold I had identified with Chinese or American, and I was free to discover the hybrid me.
Now, there are no more complaints about eggs. Each morning, I am reminded of how unique my life is and how fortunate I am to be able to experience the wonders of two worlds.
