How Chili Crisp helped me Embrace my Identity in America

When I first came to America, I was only thirteen years old. Unlike many immigrants, I didn’t come here with my family; I came here alone, escorted by flight attendants because I was too young to travel alone. The moment that I walked out of the gate at the Dallas International Airport, I immediately noticed all these people from different cultures, who looked nothing like me. I was overwhelmed, not knowing where I would fit in.

I didn’t know how to navigate or where I belonged as a middle school student in Austin, Texas. My English was okay, but I was insecure about it. I tried my best to make friends, but often I wouldn’t understand a few phrases, and I looked them up in the dictionary that I carried with me. I started to notice that so-called popular kids didn’t look like me. I felt as if there was an invisible separation between Asian students like myself in the ESL class and everyone else. That’s when I unconsciously realized that if I wanted to assimilate to American culture or be a part of the popular group, I had to hide my Asian identity. Because I couldn’t change how I looked, I cut out all the things that made me feel Korean. I didn’t talk about my love for K-pop, Asian food, or anything. I started making more friends as I put more effort into understanding the American culture. The closer I crossed that invisible line, the further I went from my real identity.