Assimilation

I saw the fear in my parents’ eyes—and I knew I had to be their voice.

At 12, I stepped off a plane in the U.S., my heart heavy with the weight of leaving China—my friends, my culture, my sense of self. I didn’t speak a word of English, but I saw the fear in my parents’ eyes as they struggled to navigate this new world, and I knew I had to be their voice. With tears and determination, I set a goal to master English in three years, studying late into the night so I could translate for them and chase a dream of a top college, hoping to see pride in their smiles.

embarrassment

I’d shrink in shame as my parents struggled to order in English.

I yearned to ‘become American,’ aching to bridge the gap of language and culture that made me feel so out of place. I joined school clubs I had no passion for, wore a mask around friends, pretending to be someone I wasn’t—just to fit in. But the deepest sting came at restaurants, where I’d shrink in shame as my parents struggled to order in English, their voices trembling. In my lowest moments, I wished they were born in the U.S., sparing me the pain of standing out. I carried that shame quietly, a heavy burden I didn’t yet know how to release.

turning point

I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t let myself break.

By 12, I was no longer the carefree girl I once knew—reality had stolen her away, forcing me into a world of maturity and responsibility far too soon. I taught myself to navigate life’s complexities—applying for apartments, buying a car, filing taxes—all while exhaustion weighed heavy on my young shoulders. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t let myself break, choosing instead to push forward for my parents’ sake. At my lowest, when I hit rock bottom, my best friends became my lifeline, guiding me to rediscover my spark and find the courage to own my life unapologetically.

Growth

I stopped hiding—I am a ‘FOB,’ and proud of it.

I lived in fear of being labeled a ‘FOB,’ desperate to conceal that I wasn’t born in the U.S., my every word shadowed by the dread of ridicule over my accent. I silenced myself, avoiding conversations, and even abandoned my beloved Chinese dramas, terrified of seeming too ‘fobby.’ But a shift stirred within me—I took control, shedding the weight of others’ opinions like an old skin. I chose to embrace my culture, even if others couldn’t understand its beauty. If being a ‘FOB’ means cherishing Fan Bingbing over Angelina Jolie and savoring dim sum with every bite, then I stopped hiding—I am a ‘FOB,’ and proud of it.

LOST

I didn’t know how to live for myself.

As college applications loomed, I watched my peers confidently choose their majors, while I stood adrift—no role model to guide me through the maze of forms, financial aid, or even my own passions. For years, my world had revolved around my parents, their needs anchoring my every choice, so I blindly picked a random major, hoping for a path. Accepted into UCSB, I faced leaving my parents and friends behind, my heart torn between worry and their gentle nudge to explore the world freely. I didn’t know how to live for myself, so used to putting them first that I’d lost my own direction, my motivation fading like a distant echo. It was my first college friend who became my beacon, giving me the confidence to step beyond my comfort zone and rediscover my own light.

passion

Bodybuilding lit a fire in me—I’d found my true north.

Balancing life as a full-time student, juggling two part-time jobs, and adapting to a new society stretched me thin, but I thrived in the challenge, finally living on my own terms. Joining a sorority gave me a sense of belonging, and then I discovered my true passion—fitness. The first time I walked into the gym, I fell in love—my future was calling, ignited by the clank of weights, the energy of the people, and the thrill of competition. Bodybuilding opened my eyes to a world I wanted to be part of, so I decided to pursue a Sports MBA at San Diego State University, blending my love for sports with a career path I could shape. After nearly 12 years in this country, I’m embracing every chance to try new things, explore my career, and see where this journey takes me—with every step, I’m learning to live for myself.