I grew up in the 90's—an era of dialup internet, AOL chat rooms, and Saturday morning cartoons. Back then, fitting in felt like survival. I didn’t always have the words for it, but I often felt caught between worlds—not quite “American enough” and not “Asian enough" (not being fully connected to my American peers nor my Asian roots). I just wanted to feel like I belonged, or fit in, and be 'good enough.'

Circa mid-90's, me standing in front of the Iris flowers my parents named me after.

I remember hiding my lunches, being ashamed of the dumplings and rice balls my mom would pack my brother and I, our classmates making comments that they were 'weird' or 'smelled funny.' My mom said that one day I came home requesting her to make my lunches more "American", so she started prepping us sandwiches for lunch instead.

I remember teachers shortening or mispronouncing my last name, and I just went along with it, just to avoid the awkward moments with the teacher or extra attention from my peers. I even caught myself wishing I looked different, sounded different, just so I could blend in more. Looking back, I realize now how important honoring and being proud of my culture is to me now, in my 30's today.

I left my hometown Walnut, California nestled in the San Gabriel Valley of East Los Angeles (where there is a big population of Asian immigrants) in 2010. After graduating high school, I moved a few hours north to attend University of California in Santa Barbara. I told my parents I intentionally chose that school as I wanted to step outside my comfort zone, that I wanted to make new friends, explore a different scene, and step into a more 'whiter' community.

But there, I ended up joining an international Asian-interest sorority, alpha Kappa Delta Phi (the largest one in North America!) I wasn’t intentionally seeking a closer connection to my Asian background—it was just where I found myself feeling like I truly belonged. It was for the first time ever I felt seen and comfortable just being me in front of my peers. This was my community. This is where I belonged. Feeling included and belonging to that community in my early adulthood helped give me the confidence and realization to embrace my true self and my roots.

My maternal grandmother with her four grandchildren - me the only granddaughter!

So I began discovering a deep love and appreciation for my Asian roots and cultures. Family gatherings started to feel more like sacred rituals and deep quality time, versus something I was ashamed of or resisting. Grabbing boba milk tea with my cousins became an activity we loved. Hot pot nights crowded around a steaming boiling pot of soup, exchanging herbal and TCM remedies between my uncles and aunties, hearing my relatives speak Mandarin Chinese and Taiwanese—even if I didn’t fully understand it fully—all started to feel like pieces of myself I wanted to protect and cherish. The more I leaned in, the more I felt right at home.

Today, I feel a sense of pride in embracing and accepting my Asian roots. I am proud of my ancestors, my culture, my family’s journey. It’s not just about embracing the food or the holidays—it’s about honoring the stories, the values, and the strength woven through multiple generations. Spending quality time connecting, learning, honoring.

My father and I visiting my grandfather in Tainan, Taiwan.

I’m learning more about traditions, and I’m asking more questions about our ancestors and their rituals. I’m finding pride in our languages, our customs, and the values we harbor. I’m wearing my heritage with gratitude—not just during AAPI Month, but all year round.

Have you ever felt like you had to choose one side of yourself over another? Have you felt like you were ashamed or embarrassed about your roots or where you come from? Have you ever wanted to change something about yourself just to fit in? You're not alone.

What I've realized through all of this is that our culture and our roots is something to be proud of, not apologetic for. It’s a source of joy, depth, and connection.

Me serving tea to Calvin at our Ting Hun (traditional Taiwanese engagement ceremony) in October 2020

Growth doesn’t always mean pushing ahead. Sometimes, it means going back. Back to the stories, foods, and memories that shaped you. Back to the pieces you once tucked away. And in doing so, we don’t just find ourselves—we find home.

This journey of embracing my culture is ongoing, and I know I’ll keep learning. But today, I carry it with joy, with pride, and with deep gratitude.

This story is shared in celebration of AAPI Heritage Month—a time to honor the voices, traditions, and strength of Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander communities everywhere.