"No really, where are you from?"
This is something I know most immigrant children face every day. When I traveled to Europe, on the streets of New York, back home in Cincinnati - I hear this phrase everywhere I go. I didn't initially realize it, but it's so pertinent to our discussions in class. Just like the Korean narrative told in our recent reading, I am not viewed as a "true" American in the eyes of many other Americans. My brown skin separates me from the traditional picture of an America - I am an Indian American. And somehow, that's my defining quality. I am defined by my culture - not my nationality.Â














