believe that culture and identity are clearly intertwined.While growing up, I had taken my culture and background for granted, but later on in life, I slowly clung to them.Little did I know that they would be like my shadow, staying with me forever, dominating my everyday speech and actions.Naive as I was, I welcomed my culture warmly; besides, everyone else accepted it, so why be different?I did not even think about its wonder and its power of binding people together for centuries.But culture seemed to be such a big abstract blur, something I could not point out easily nor identify directly.I did not even feel its existence until I moved to America and experienced being a foreigner.Never in my life have I felt so queer compared to everyone else, never have I felt so lost and alone.I thought, “It’s all my culture’s fault.If it wasn’t for it, I wouldn’t have this ridiculous accent, and I wouldn’t have to "adapt", as they call it, to their odd culture.”Everything I have learned, from food to clothes to manners and language were so different that I thought it was impossible for me to fit into anything.They were just so unlike me in every wayFor example, I was so used to strict discipline that when the elderly treated me a little more leniently, I felt so guilty.As I tried blending into the new culture, I felt that I was losing something gradually.Ironically, I still regarded my old culture, the one I had blamed for all my struggles and frustrations, as a sense of beauty.I valued it for its influence on my character and personality.It contained a unique atmosphere that only the ones born to it can feel.

One night I sensed my old culture inside me, speaking to me, making me feel guilty for trying to become Americanized.It said, “Come out.I’m not trying to play hide-and-seek with you.I molded you and I am the source of your identity.I hope that you, my creation, would not melt just like that thing you call snow that falls on your new land.Though you may reject me, I will always be a part of you, watching you, and serving as a shield to prevent you from foreign invaders.Don’t you remember the old times, when you followed everything that I told you to do?Have you forgotten my advice that ‘to be nobody else but you means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop’?”

identity, guided by my old culture.I was dying to meet the person I was supposed to be.I sure wanted to make a good impression on myself.When my pursuit was over, I discovered that I was who I am and was only imagining more than what the truth was about myself.Being what I was led me in becoming a better me.It did not matter what I was thought to be anymore, but what I really am.I thought, “me is me is me is me is me.”Self-realization surely filled me like bread.I must have starved from lack of self-communication.

So everyday I tried my best in pleasing and uniting my old and new cultures, even though they hardly mixed.After awhile, they got so accustomed to being linked together that they decided to cooperate in balancing my personality.The old thought, “She is not the same person this year as last, nor is the culture she dearly loves.It is a wonderful chance if both, changing, continue to accept and love each other.”Meanwhile, the new thought, “I am willing to be used and suited on for life.My goal is not beauty but goodness.”

As the unity of the two struggled to develop, my new identity gradually emerged.It was their offspring, the fruit of their acceptance and union with each other.None had ever made such an incomparable selfhood that will contribute to human history.Me, myself, and I hopefully prove that cultures truly mold beauty.