I Believe in Crooked Smiles

I believe in self-cultural acceptance. My view of self-cultural acceptance in this essay refers to a specific set of people: immigrants. These people live in two cultures that of their family and the other one from their surroundings. As these two cultures clash, the individual seems to technically have two choices: to assimilate or to stay with their roots.

However, at an early age, I strongly believed that the only choice was to assimilate; weighing the pros and cons of both choices I convinced myself that to not assimilate was to insulate myself. This is true to this day. As a child I knew that I was different from most people around me. I thought that, contrary to what people believe, being different does not make you feel special; it only makes you feel different. I believed that even under the best of circumstances, when people saw past my ethnicity, I myself was unable to do so. So looking back now I do not blame myself for feeling an urgent need to be like everyone else, to assimilate. I do however wish that I hadn’t rushed to my conclusion.

At an early age of 7 I moved to the United States from China, full of apprehension, excitement but also an urge to return to a place where I felt at home.

At the age of 10 I had little to no recollection of my roots. When my parents would talk about the changes in China and how they longed to return; I listened with respect but could not help but feel a little incredulous. After all the only memory of China that I had left were bleak; straw and brick houses, crowded streets, and a thick dust that seemed impervious to daily sweeping.

At the age of 15 I had changed my name from my birth name “Ang” to Tony. I did not change it so it would be easy for people to pronounce I changed it for myself. My birth name seemed to me to be a constant reminder that I was different. Every time someone pronounced it wrong and someone laughed I laughed heartlessly with them but felt deeply embarrassed. Why couldn’t I have a normal name?

And finally now at age 16 I feel disgusted with myself.

I understand now that I was very narrow-minded; I had deceived myself to believe in total conformity as a way to brush aside the slight differences. I had been no better than the stereotypical bigot.

This is why I believe in self-cultural acceptance, I believe that no one should think that assimilation is the only option. When I look in the mirror now I see past the first impression and view myself as a proud Chinese-American. Culture accounts only for a few minor differences; the similarities are vast in comparison. A smile is recognized around the world as just that a smile no matter if it’s a small one, big one, or crooked one.