DescriptiveEssay: Average Kid

            Today I’m an average American kid who has been very fortunate but years before I was an embarrassed Vietnamese kid who was uncomfortable with my own name, Viet. Now I’m very connected with my culture and everyday I’m learning something new, like different sayings and the different ways of life but also the history of the country, as I go along.

Years ago I used to think about asking my parents to legally change my name to Victor or some other American name that wouldn’t stand out as Viet. When I was in school I was considered an outsider because of my entirely different name. I was different from everyone else because of my name. When I was in kindergarten everyone thought I was Chinese, at that time People stereotyped Asian people as Chinese but there were an abundant amount of different cultures in Asia. I really didn’t care at the time because I was five and I didn’t know that much about anything then and there. My cousin and I were the same age and the same ethnicity but what set us apart were our names and that changed the way people looked at him and looked at me. In the beginning my parents told me to think it over again because I could be giving up something that made me unique from the rest of the kids, my name. They saw my name as something that would separate me from all of the ordinary kids in school and on the streets. They saw it as something special that no other kid could have. At the very least my parents would let me add the American name as my middle name rather than changing my first name. About a month later my parents asked me if I wanted to change my name to something more commonly heard in American like, Victor or John, but I said no. After rethinking it over I accepted my name because it was different from everyone else. I didn’t want to be like the other American kids anymore because I didn’t want to be stereotyped as something I wasn’t.

In the summer of 2011 I went to Vietnam. There I felt at home because I was no different from anyone else there. I fit in, I didn’t feel like an outsider and I felt like that was where I belonged. No one would question me what I was doing because everyone was doing it. It was something natural there rather than something different, where, as most people would just stare at me. In Vietnam it was like being on another planet where I wouldn’t have to worry about someone accepting or someone staring at me. I could connect to everyone else because everyone was the same as me. I wasn’t that other kid who didn’t have an American name. I fit in because I had a name that wasn’t so different from others. Ironically I’ve never visited or seen Vietnam and I’ve never felt more at home when I was there. Even though I’ve lived in and was born in America I never felt the way I did when I was in Vietnam. Although I’ve been raised in America where I assimilated to the way of living here, I still don’t feel exactly where I should be at times. I eat pizza, watch TV, use the Internet, and play games. In Vietnam I sit down and really get to know my family because a lot of things in Vietnam aren’t as updated as they are here in America. I do things that are normal in America. I remember during the course of second grade I had brought coconut as a drink to school for lunch and when I opened my lunch box everyone had seen that there was something I normally didn’t have and they asked what it was. When I answered that it was coconut everyone around me looked at me like I was the craziest and most insane person to drink that. In Vietnam coconuts were extremely fresh or almost any produce for that matter but it would be delightful refreshment. I would be something that was eaten once in awhile and it was enjoyed.

On the way back to Philadelphia I missed Vietnam but I also missed my own house, where I could sleep on my bed comfortably rather than feeling awkward about sleeping in someone else’s room for three weeks. Waking up the next day to visit the family I’ve grown to know all my life. Coming back to see my cousins that I’ve grown up with was nothing like when I came to my aunts house for the first time. When I first walked into the house the majority of my family greeted me on my dad’s side that I was going meet for the rest of this vacation. Only a few other relatives were missing but it felt stuffy in the house. Most of my relatives were there to greet me, it was nice for the first day or two but after awhile it was irritating because I was the center of attention because I was the son of the brother who had the chance to live in America. I was also special because I was the son of the second or third child that was still living. For next three weeks I had become the center of attention. If someone wanted to know something about America they would ask me, instead of asking my completely fluent speaking father. I would always be asked what did I do, what did I have, was there this or that at different times of the day. I realized I should learn more about my culture and language to be able vacation in that paradise of country one day.