America the Beautiful

When people ask me where I'm from, I always tell them: "Chinese, born in Japan." People always stare back at me with a puzzled look, as if it's something impossible to grasp. But then again, maybe it is impossible to understand; after all, there our heritage isn't defined by a single word. Who are you? is the hardest question that anyone can pose. Because there is no clear answer, no definitions in the dictionary that defines you. Sure, you can be quick to reply with a name, but what else more is it but a light garment you adorn? A tiny surface in a vast tank of water? Especially in America, deciding who you really are is a challenge because we're all of different nations, struggling to find a sense of place, roaming and hoping. There is a balancing act in embracing your roots and finding new heritage to define yourself.

Every few years, I visit China. There, I am so frequently reminded of the great hardships that my parents faced, and their journeys to America. And I honor their commitment to their success and their hopes for a brighter future for their daughters by listening to their stories of their past. How, my dad, under the odds, went to college. How my mom left her family behind.

My dad points to a street along the river and proudly says, "I used to walk through here to go to school. And now it's a historical site." And all I can do is gape at the distance that he had to walk, the miles and miles of treading on tired feet.

That's the most important thing, I believe, in tying the culture together-- understanding. Respecting. Cultures fade in and out; they get mixed and dyed with the colors of others, and that's okay. That's the searching part, finding out where to belong.

I tie my heritage together with rapid words of English and Japanese and Chinese to my parents. I nibble on some American food, but I still prefer my Asian food. I have more than a hundred volumes of manga stored under my bed and gathering dust. I help my mother with English. I hate watching anime in English dub, but I can't read Chinese to save my life.

This past weekend, Coca-Cola came under fire for their controversial ad, wherein America the Beautiful is sung in multiple languages. Yet, as an immigrant, that commercial resonated within me. It's a song about embracing our past and the beauty of our culture, yet acknowledging the fact that we are indeed, in this country that we should appreciate, free from harsh oppression and unwavering poverty. In essence, we are all diverse, with our own stories and backgrounds. And Coca-Cola is right: America is beautiful. In all different languages.