Julia Ognibene, 18
I think there’s only one word that can explain my perception of my cultural identity; fuzzy. I was born in Korea, lived there for about a year or so, and was flown to America to live with my ‘now’ parents. Life with me and my brother being the only Asians in our community, schools, and even our own family has caused too many ‘identity crises’ for me to suffer through to count.
The only thing that I can get my hands on pertaining to my life outside the US are all the documents my parents filled out, or received to adopt me. A hefty stack of computer printer paper documents, beige folders, and sheets from a notebook that measures about 4 inches high tell me absolutely nothing about anything, except that I seem to have an O blood type. Sometimes I can’t help but feel like my whole entire existence can be explained by some yellowed papers with some scratchy writing. It can be hard tell your story to others when you don’t have all the pages yourself.