awwsel-blog - Tumblr blog

awwsel-blog · 4 years

Text

A Taste of Culture

He hopped onto the plane, scoping the new land for its opportunities away from the riots and corruption of his home country, Indonesia. He first settles in New York, working in multiple jobs to raise enough money to bring the rest of his family. After he had reached his goal he called out to his wife and carried her over to the promise land. However, this promise land had some costs. The man had only enough money to bring his wife. The mother of two children left behind a son and a daughter in their home country along with relatives. “We will meet again,” she tells her children. After settling and moving around and about, from New York, to Virginia, and finally to Pennsylvania, Scranton was the place to be. The opportunities for the man and woman were abundant and they had the freedom to start another life of promise. Later on, the mother gave birth to a daughter. The labels of the child were given from birth. She was not only known as the American of the family but also known as a first generation Asian American, a label given by American society.

Growing up as an Asian American, I grew up differently depending on the location. With the change of a location, so did my persona. School consisted of a typical routine, we would go to class, have lunch, go to class again, and then go home. But despite the typical routine, my lifestyle contrasted between school and home. “Be safe!” my mom says to me in Indonesian as she drops me off at school. I reply with an “Okay!” and make my way through the doors of the school. As I walk through the doors, I flipped the language switch in my brain. I started to greet my friends as I saw them one by one.

“Hey Selina! Did you finish the English homework?”

“Neyse! I missed you!”

“Shania, I’m coming over to your locker after lunch!”

School was composed of subjects such as math, English, reading, and American history. The bell rang after homeroom and I made my way to my classes. I sat in my English class as I planned out my outline for an English paper due next week. Reading class was about the same, it consisted of reading works of English or American literature as well as American history where we learned about, well, America. Nonetheless, the whole curriculum was based around the United States. I considered this an essential part of growing up as an Asian American

Lunch came around twelve o’clock and I gathered with my friends. We sat down together and enjoyed varieties of different American foods. One day we would have hamburgers and the next day we would have hot dogs. The contrast between home and school was drastic when it came to the food.

“Bye guys! See you tomorrow!” I waved to my friends as I raced to the car where my mom was waiting. As I enter the car, the switch flipped.

“Sekolahnya gimana, Vie?” (How was school, Selvi.)

“Biasa aja.” (It was okay as usual.)

As soon as I got home, I changed into the comfiest clothes and relaxed in my bed as my mom prepared dinner.

“Vie, makanannya sudah!” (The food is ready!)

No food is better than a mom’s home cooked meals. What my mom had prepared was a dish called Mie Ayam. Mie Ayam consists of noodles, bean sprouts, meatballs, mushrooms, chicken, wontons, and fried onions. It’s clear to say that this is my favorite dish of my mom’s. It was normal having two different foods of different cultures in one day.

A very big part of my life at home was translating. My parents spoke very little English and often relied on me to translate.

“Selvi, I need you to schedule an appointment for me.”

“Selvi, can you come with me to the car shop.”

“I need your help translating at the bank.”

This started at a young age, so I had real adult knowledge that other children did not have, which was odd, I will admit. But this side task of mine for my parents did help me mature quicker and adjust easier to living on my own for college.

The community away from school and its environment was different as well. I grew up around a lot of Indonesians of different ages which also helped me maintain some of their culture. My childhood friends are Indonesian Americans, so they relate to my situation whereas the kids from my school didn’t really understand. It was comforting having that community in my life. It helped maintain this culture that I now appreciate.

Growing up as the daughter of immigrants definitely had its perks. Culture is a huge thing in everyone’s lives so much so in mine as well. Because I was living in the United States, I was considered to be different than everyone else because of my specific culture. From the food, to the language, and to the traditions, everything was different. Not only did I consider them perks but I also considered them cons. As a child I would always want to fit in. Why was I so different from the rest of my classmates? How come none of our relatives came over for Thanksgiving? Why didn’t we have a big dinner just like my friends and their families did? But as I grew older, I started to appreciate the diversity within me.

Because I was raised by immigrants in the United States, I was able to experience two cultures at once. At home I ate Indonesian food, interacted with other Indonesians, spoke the language, and celebrated their holidays. At school, I had the chance to eat American food, speak the language as well, learn about American history, eat their food, and go to a football game. And these two cultures that I adapted, came to create a new persona and lifestyle. I came to love my culture, its food, holidays, its languages, and its traditions. It’s not interesting if everyone is the same. Consistency is boring. Diversity is key. We might not celebrate Thanksgiving, but the celebration of a Lunar New Year is just as much fun.

1 note · View note