World Citizen

The United States is a giant melting pot, isn’t it? I have done copious amounts of international travel and have never been to a place whose diversity could equal that of America’s. It’s a beautiful thought; it’s what a majority would envision as the ideal society. But at the same time, most of us know, if we dig deep down, that America is only emerging from the racial struggles that have defined much of its history. Dig even deeper, and I think it becomes clear how large of an impact these underlying racial tensions have on our lives. These tensions effect everyone differently and so, everyone has different story. To break the ice, I start by telling you mine.

The story goes like this: I was born in Norway and I am a Norwegian citizen. My first language is Norwegian, and I still, to this day prefer Norwegian food over any other kind. My mother is adopted. Her biological parents are Korean, but she was given up when she was less than a year old. To her and my enormous luck, she was given to my grandmother, a fashionable, kind brunette who has a thing for pastries and expensive clothes.
Truly a remarkable person. My father is Chinese. He was born in China, raised in China – he is 100% Chinese. He came to Norway to get his doctor’s degree. My dad got the degree and married my mother. I was born soon after, and I lived in Norway for the next three happy years. Following that time, we began what would be a series of transitions from state to state. I blossomed during that time; I was a little girl, built, layer by layer, with diversity. I could sympathize and understand a great diversity of people, much more so than other children. Things began to change, however, as I grew. I lost much of my ability to feel connected to everyone and I became much more shallow. I blame this decline and
my increasing tendency to categorize myself with certain types of people, on America’s ongoing struggles with race and on my own loss of innocence.

Any struggles I had with learning the English language faded towards the end of elementary school and early middle school. American culture had grown on both me and my parents. I started figure skating. My mom became a flute teacher and my father picked up golf. I also had a lot of different “best friends” during this time – one year it was a Venezuelan, another year an Indian. Our visits to Norway, thankfully, had not stopped, and I felt as at home there as ever. Kids in Norway were the most relatable of all
because they had been raised just as I had. Nevertheless, in all cases, I think a child’s life is beautiful: A child has the unique, unconscious ability to feel connected to others through experience – which I don’t believe is as different as many believe. A child is a child. The majority of us (although I realize that this is not true for many children) have played and
explored. We have had many of the same curious thoughts and we bond over these
similarities.

But then something changes. Sometime during high school, I stopped being friends with Indians and Venezuelans and started being friends with East Asians. I joined an exclusive social circle whose acceptance criteria included black hair and “yellow” skin, and for some strange reason, I began to feel as though the Norwegian and American part of me was disappearing. I felt as though I were half-Chinese half-Korean, despite the fact that
couldn’t understand any of the languages, had never been to either place, and hated
spicy food. People wanted me to be Asian. Other Asians expected this of me. In my community, people who looked like me where always the ones to start a conversation or to ask for homework help. Others, “whites”, Indians, blacks etc., were much more reserved. Thus, I felt a lot of pressure to do what society expected of me. Society expected me to be Chinese and Korean because I looked the part. And astoundingly, society succeeded. I
changed a lot during high school. I grew and matured and I realized that I would be the odd one out if I didn’t feel most close to the people who looked like me. Despite the fact that my culture and experiences were American and Norwegian, I felt as though my appearance had the ability to override all of this.

I am much more narrow than I once used to be, which I believe, as I said before, is a product of the expectations of society and my own realization of this. There are hundreds of exceptions, but I think the following occurs frequently enough that it is significant: we often forget what it is that brings us together. Experience, wisdom, knowledge, and the like are all things that we have in common. People who have lived much of their lives in
the United States often don’t realize how much they share with other American citizens, despite their appearance. America has this power. When one immigrates to the US, they become part American. Isn’t that what the American dream is all about? When I was younger, I had the great fortune of feeling as though I could relate to anyone. We were all children who spoke English and who lived in the US. Some of our experiences were different because we were born in different countries but we shared American culture and that connected us. As I grew, and as my friends grew, we all became more conscious of the differences between us, rather than the similarities. These differences, most obvious in our
appearances separated us into smaller groups. It completely altered my perception of myself, something which my father has wisely pointed out to me.

He has told me this over and over, and I will repeat it here:

“You forget what the rest of the world is like because you limit yourself to such a narrow group of people. You are American and Norwegian and Chinese and Korean. You are a world citizen. Always be conscious of that.”