The prompt says to discuss a significant event that's had a profound impact on the identity I have today, but unfortunately I can't sit down and write about just one single event, because the way that I have lived and the reason I am who I am today cannot be traced back to one event, sorry Mrs. Cabrera.
There isn't just one event that has made me who I am, there's a series of events for this. These series of events do follow a specific event- moving.
To many who will read this, "moving" is simply moving houses down the block or even as far as across town, but it's been different for me. For me, "moving" has been across oceans and across thousands of miles, not just a block or two.
I believe that my identity and who I am as a person and as a student is further exemplified by the identity of those that surround me. Manhattan Beach, California. Those three words are read and similar thoughts go through people's mind; “snobby”, “ungrateful”, “spoiled”. These stereotypes that are put into the community I have been raised in the last eight years is what makes me different. My identity is not the same as my communities. I was not born into a world where I immediately received everything I wanted. I was born into a dark and difficult world, otherwise known as Colombia. The first six years of my life I lived in a third world country. I did not just live in this country, I embraced it, I was proud of it, and I took everything it gave me and guided my future with it. There is a gap in between living the first six years of my life in Colombia and being raised in California since the fourth grade, where was I in that gap? I was in the pursuit of my education. My parents were in pursuit of removing me from a world full of war, poverty and corruption. Colombia was no longer an option in which I could expand every single idea and every single desire that came into my growing and curious mind. So where was I? I was in Brazil. I was in Saudi Arabia. These are not just vacation spots I visited, these are the countries I was raised in. My background has not been shaped by any single factor, but rather every different continent’s soil has made me who I am. I have seen things that I am more than certain no one else in my community or in any community remotely near me has seen.
São Paulo, Brazil. 2,683 miles away from home. This is the first attempt to pursue my education. Never before had I heard about the language Portuguese. The teachers didn’t care about that, my parents didn’t care about that, no one cared about that. I was immediately thrown into this new and disparate culture and was expected to learn it and adapt to it quickly. I took on the challenge, not only because I had no other choice, but because I was raised to bravely take on any challenge thrown at me. I watched TV in Portuguese, I read books, I listened and imitated those around me and within a couple months I conquered the challenge. This was only the first of many challenges to stand in my path to success. After this came the challenge of actually living in this new culture. My friends, my language, my culture, my family and my life were taken away from me; I had to start from scratch. There's no lonelier feeling than how I felt then, and that is part of what shaped my identity. I realized that feeling lonely and sad wasn't going to take me anywhere, so why not make the best of everything. I made friends and I made family in this country who changed who I am and who helped me see new things that I am still able to see and that I will continue to see in the future as I pursue my career.
Then it all happened again.
2,428 miles away from home.
Dallas, Texas, United States of America.
Throughout the years I’ve asked my parents why we moved so much. The answer they give me is that it was all meant to pursue a place where I could receive a quality education, because they wanted to give my brother and I the best chance there is to succeed. What better way to that than to go to America, the land of the dreams. It’s true, there almost is no better place in this world where you can receive a good education. It maybe be expensive, it may be bad at times, but it’s almost the best there is. Living in the United States was just another culture shock for me. Similarity between São Paulo and Texas? The heat. Absolutely nothing else. Here is a seven year old who is fluent in two languages living in America. This achievement on its own should be something amazing and useful, but it wasn’t. I felt completely useless and lost because I could not communicate with anyone outside of my family. I didn’t understand anything going on around me, so once again I had to begin to learn something new. I was put in school speaking a maximum of about 2 sentences in English, and was expected to not have it affect me and to begin being normal. At some point a kid in my position begins to lose comfort. I had to make new friends again, I had to learn a brand new language. That changed me so much because of the way that Americans looked at me. They didn’t care that I was struggling with anything, all they saw me as was another Latino immigrant. This began a new carving into my identity, because from this point on I would no longer be shy, I would not longer mind dropping my life and taking it somewhere else. I became a new person.
7,979 miles away from home this time.
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.
I lived in the Middle East for ten months. What Americans see on TV on CNN, I saw with my own eyes as a seven-year old. Burnt down buildings, military tanks guarding every important building, violence, revolt, but most importantly, I saw culture. I spent time with the Prince’s son, I saw thousands of people pray five times a day to a God that most Americans find spiteful. I myself prayed to my God on Christmas Eve with the ambassador of Spain; the only difference was that our Christmas prayer had to be under closed doors and tight security, for any prayer that went against the Muslim God, Allah, was strictly and strongly punishable by law. Not a single thing surrounding me for those ten months did I consider “home”. Seemingly endless deserts to my right, enormous and alluring Mosques to my left. Once again I was abruptly forced into another culture. This wasn't just a country that was across a border, this was across the entire Atlantic Ocean. I'll never be able to forget what I saw there. The relationship between Dallas and Riyadh is absolutely non-existent. I had to learn to behave in a new manner that went along with the society there. I became a new person, a person that still lives within me to this day. Crying every night became tiring, being scared of the outside world became tiring, so I took on this challenge the same way I had taken on the previous ones. I kicked the ass of everything that came at me. New food? Bring it on. New people? I don't care, give it to me. An absolutely unfamiliar and peculiar culture? Let's have it all. The way that I was able to adapt in those months gave me skills that I use to this day and will be able to use for the rest of my life. This was the third time in eight years that my child self felt completely lost, and that is something that I’ve traced back to taking an effect on my identity.
3,510 miles away. The final number.
Los Angeles, California, United States of America.
This is the final event in the series of events that had a profound impact on the identity that I have today. I’m back in the United States pursuing my education. The first day of school in LA I was a fourth grader and fluent in three different languages. This seems to be the city my future is destined to rise in. As I once again begin to fit in, everything feels easier and better. I’m no longer shy when making friends, I know things that no one else does, and I feel at place. This is something rare. I’m not used to feeling like I belong and feeling confident about whatever I do, so it’s the last step in shaping my identity. This last move to Hermosa Beach gave me the courage to become myself and the courage to be who I am today. Education wise, my parents chose the city with a High School in the top 1% in the nation; so that goal was achieved.
If there is to be a metaphor for the shaping of my identity, I'd give it to the mug I am currently making in Ceramics class. I’ve built this bowl over and over again. Creating it and then smashing it multiple times because it wasn’t exactly what I wanted. Somehow for me his relates to the way that my identity was shaped.
3 continents, 4 countries, 5 cities, and 23,832 miles of traveling later, I am here today. From the outside I am not who people think I am. My identity has been shaped and carved in such a way that I can barely begin to describe it, but this is who I am. I have changed significantly since the day I left Colombia, and my identity will continue to shape itself in the years to come.
0 miles away from home.
Colombia, what I first classified as my "home" when I was born, is evidently no longer home to me. These events I described have once again shown to shape who I am because due to them I've lost the meaning of home. I am now scared to call a place "home" because throughout my life, every time I would label where I lived that, it would change. Home to me is not the two lines below my name on my California driver's license. I don't consider this my home, because throughout my life it's been evident that one place isn't destined to be my final home. So why label this one? Why hurt myself more and break my heart like I did every time before this when it came to moving. I believe this isn't my final home, and maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. So for now, home is where I stand within myself, not where I reside.
