I can still remember the feeling from when I first came to the United States, I was seven years old. It was nerve wracking when I entered the plane, imagining myself in the new foreign country, trying to fit in. At the airport, I saw stores with English words that I had never seen before. Everyone was talking in languages that I could not understand. I questioned myself, how am I going to learn a new language when I am still learning Chinese? How am I suppose to adapt to this new country? After the plane landed I followed my parents to the exit of the airport and I realized that this strange place was now my home. I finally got to see the enormous skyscrapers stretching to the sky, and the snowflakes falling from the clouds.

On my first day of school, my legs were shaking as I walked into the classroom. I felt isolated and muddled. I was the only Asian kid in the school, I had no one to interact with because I did not speak the same language as everyone else. I did not comprehend what my teacher was teaching or what she wanted me to do. I sat quietly at the lunch table eating my meal, and waited for the time to pass. That day, I did not speak a word at school, and I watched the other kids play during recess. I was dying to go home, it was the worst day of my life. As time passed, I transferred to another school. The school was diverse, I found people of my skin color, but also White, Black, and Hispanic students. I began to understand the basis of English, and started to speak with my classmates. I felt safe in the environment because I was able to speak my native language to my friends and understand what the teacher was asking of me. I was able to join electives in my school, therefore, I played the instrument Dan Tranh and performed the Lion Dance.

Eight years have passed since I set foot in the United States, and I cannot remember most of memories from my childhood in china and a lot from when I first arrived. Now, I attend in one of the best high schools in Philadelphia, and interpret what I am learning in classes easily. I have friends that I sit with at lunch, and hobnob after school. English became my native language. I have assimilated into American society, but having done this, I have lost my Chinese identity. I stopped taking Chinese school when I entered high school. I thought it was unnecessary, but as a result, I forgot how to write Chinese characters. I found myself having difficulties speaking Chinese to my family when I communicated with them. My exposure to English language and American culture forced my Chinese identity to perish, bit by bit. One day, I realized that my parents were not willing to succumb their traditions and culture like I did. I admire their determination and enthusiasm for keeping their Chinese identity. My parents helped me regain my Chinese identity back, by encouraging me to watch Chinese movies and shows so I can recoup the memories of the Chinese characters that I have forgotten. My mother cooks rice and Chinese dishes everyday for us to eat. She would prepare feasts for holidays, such as Chinese New Year. Right now, I am still struggling to gain my Chinese identity back, but the struggle is worth it in the end.

Looking back, I wonder what my life would have been if I stayed in China. As much as I loved the childhood I had in China, I am grateful to be living in the United States. It gives me a better opportunity to become a successful person, but also appreciate my culture more. I remember the seven-year old me, who was lost and confused, struggling to speak English. I realized that entering a new place can cause you to lose your identity, but also helps you in developing a new one. Eventually, I realized that both identities are important and need to be cherished.