Student POV

by Gabrielle Wy '19

I always dreamt of being someone else. When I was young, I’d sit in my bathroom, look into the mirror and squish my almond-shaped eyes together in hopes they would somehow not be so distinctly Asian. Other kids’ parents didn’t give them rice and dumplings in their lunchboxes. While no one treated me terribly for my differences, I always knew I wasn’t the typical American child.

As I got older, my lack of confidence grew. I saw everyone around me as better-looking, smarter, more outgoing and more likeable than me. I denied myself the satisfaction of being okay in my own shell. While my tendency to compare myself with others improved through high school, I couldn’t ever identify who I thought Gabi was. I didn’t know if sharing my thoughts was ever worthwhile.

I realized how valuable my identity was, in important conversations about the present situation and foreseeable future of society, only when I came to USI. I had classes discussing diversity issues where I was the only minority, or one of two, in the room. It was clear to me within the first few weeks of classes as a freshman that I didn’t need to become white—rather, my community needed more diversity like me.

Without different cultural perspectives in crucial conversations, America shuts out ideas and opportunities for improvement from those who need it most. When my country is touted as a cultural melting pot, it makes little sense that I felt so separated through childhood. With experiences in both journalism and academia, I see the lack of representation in so many facets of society. I realized that I’m different from my peers, and that difference is not only okay, but much needed to provide perspective and relatability to all.

Exploring my cultural identity, and identity as a whole, has led me to notice despite people’s differences, empathy and passion can be found in pretty much anyone. I’ve published honest opinion pieces in The Shield, expressed myself in my classes and spoken at Walk a Mile in Her Shoes. Everyone here has listened to me—not just as an Asian, not just as an American, but as a person, with specific experiences that might help others. Each of my identities provides an important component of me. I’m an Asian-American, a daughter, a friend, a future scholar, a woman, a sexual abuse survivor and a human being.

Despite everyone facing unique struggles, not all are lucky enough to find hope. It’s a dream come true that I’ve not only been able to realize my identity, but have so many opportunities to share it with other people and give a little bit of that hope along the way. I’ve found my voice—a unique one—but still one with human commonality. That’s something I gained here that no one will be able to take from me. I’m eternally grateful.

If you enjoyed this story, let us know at magazine@usi.edu.