By Rachel Chiang | Assistant News Editor

Growing up, I struggled with aspects of my Asian heritage because it conflicted with the “norms” that surrounded me. The clothes I wore and the foods I ate often differed from the other kids in my school, and sometimes I felt isolated. I frequently felt insecure about my facial features and worried my lunch would smell to the other kids. In a suburban town in north Texas during the early 2000s, there wasn’t a lot of ethnic representation in my community.

However, by the time I made it to high school, everything changed. I was surrounded by a mix of ethnicities and races that washed away those former insecurities. I had friends from virtually every ethnic group conceivable, and it was gratifying to relate to shared childhood experiences.

Coming to Baylor, I was excited for a fresh start. I was no longer insecure about my race or heritage, but subconsciously, my mind wondered: when people ask me where I’m from, do I tell them about the small town outside of Dallas, or do I tell them my family came from Taiwan? When I have friends over, does the dinner I cooked smell strange to them?

Even when I would visit Taiwan, I still felt like a foreigner. My tanned skin and aptitude for wearing shorts make me stand out despite racially looking like everyone else. My Chinese carries an accent that people can pick up on, singling me out as a non-native.

Living in America, I knew there would always be a cultural gap between me and those I was surrounded by. But in Taiwan, why did I still feel isolated from those who were genetically and culturally the same as me? I knew I was an Asian who grew up in America, but what exactly did that mean?

Meanwhile, the interest in Asian culture has grown exponentially. Japanese anime has become mainstream media. K-pop is topping global charts. Asian snacks and goodies are everywhere. Asian stores have begun popping up around America. Suddenly, being Asian has become cool.

This explosion in the sharing of culture wasn’t exclusive to us, as other South Asian, Hispanic and even African cultures began to appear in topics of conversations, language learning opportunities and restaurant openings.

While I appreciated people accepting and being interested in my culture, I didn’t like that the space that used to be full of Asians was now overrun by other ethnicities. It was weird to meet people who seemed more excited about what Asian traditions I practiced rather than getting to know me as a person. Now, when I make friends who love Asian culture, are they my friend for me or my race?

I noticed people began to reject their “Americanness” in pursuit of interests in other cultures. Let me tell you a secret: American culture is flourishing, and it is popular.

A culture does not need traditions, foods or practices stemming back hundreds of years to make it legitimate, not when you see how the world follows American fashion trends, sports and entertainment.

Being American is a unique experience itself, but now I am wondering: Am I Asian enough? Am I American enough? Should I be one more than the other?

With cases like the Oxford Study of white male and Asian female relationships combined with research on mixed-race families, the line between cultures continues to blur, and that’s a good thing. We should be sharing cultures and continuing to embrace our heritages. Everyone has something to bring to the table, and the more we share about our unique heritage, the more educated and well-rounded we become.

I am both. I am proud to be American, and I am proud to be Asian. To be Asian-American means experiencing both cultures by blending traditional practices together.

Thanksgivings consisted of football and turkey with a side of fried rice and red bean soup for dessert. We celebrated the Fourth of July with Chinese barbecue and watching the fireworks. We celebrate Chinese New Year with red envelopes, and someone would always bring a pizza to the potluck.

Being Asian-American and bilingual means gossiping with my parents without people eavesdropping, complaining about my roommates without them understanding and easily communicating with my grandparents.

Ultimately, nobody’s singular cultural identity is found in one location. Even if you were born and raised in one place your whole life, different encounters and experiences make up your cultural identity.

I didn’t discover this overnight. My identity ebbs and flows in both directions, with some days feeling like I am more one than the other. You may feel perplexed about where you belong and who you should be, but the beauty of living in America is meeting people who help you reflect on your own cultural experiences.