id whatever I could to blend in. I bought cafeteria food and ate American lunches like bologna sandwiches and peanut butter and jelly. Most of my friends were Caucasian, and I joined clubs associated with Caucasians. I tried so hard to fit in so that I would be accepted. I did whatever my friends did. I begged my parents to buy me trendy clothing and designer labels. The haircut I had was also very similar to that of my friends. I spoke like them and adopted their ways. I wanted no longer to be Asian. I hated that part of me. I just wanted to be “American.” I hoped that by doing everything they did and following their ways, I would be accepted despite the fact that I wasn’t white. In fifth grade, a new student was enrolled into my class. His name was Bradford Chin. Bradford reminded me of myself when I first came- conservative, traditional, and very studious. Not knowing any better, I felt somewhat embarrassed around him. I believed that his appearance would be a reminder to everyone of the person I was before. Because of this I ignored and avoided him as often as I could. One day, I was eating lunch with my friends and I glanced over towards Brad. I noticed he was eating one of my favorite Chinese pastries, “Dan-Tat.” Just the thought of a nibble of that sweet, delicious pastry conjured up a childhood memory of me when I sat in a bakery in Chinatown, enjoying the delicious aroma of fresh buns and eating a “Dan-Tat” of my own. This reminiscence summoned enough courage for me to go visit him. I approached him slowly, and asked him for a piece of the sweet treasure and he happily offered me some. I spent the rest of lunch hour chatting with him. I found out that we have much in common and that he was a wonderful person, both inside and outside. We found our parents to be very similar in both their values and beliefs. We soon became great friends and as our friendship became stronger, I felt I was ...
