Personal Narrative: My Identity In America

Growing up in America as a Chinese immigrant, I was puzzled about my identity for quite some time. Was I Chinese, Chinese American, or a Chinese in America? Never had I thought the arrangements between two or three words can be so controversial and disconcert. My life was an empty canvas, depressed and uncommitted. It was tough to not have the same type of name as most of my peers, it was tough to learn English, and it was tough to live with an absence of a true identity. On that empty canvas, life’s dismal became the artist, and I became a stroke of paint stretched too thin. It took me a long time to realize that I needed to scrap and start anew by moving forward continuously, and finally, I found the palette of my interest and became the artist that defines the dimensions of me.
For most people, the punch that turns

I was determined to find myself, to be truly curious about what this life holds, and to become someone who can elicit emotional and intellectual reactions through paintings by expressing my physical and mental relationship to the world around me. That was three years ago. Through art, I found my voice and medium to experience all conditions and subtleties. I am now publishing an art book for underprivileged and immigrant children whom questions their identity by illustrating the spirit of these children to invite the society to become part of their story by translating their diverse nature into a new creation with dimension, and to encourage these youth to share their organic social messages. Coming across many insecure, how I was, children of diverse background, I want to deliver visual messages that will inspire strength for continuity by helping them to love who they are and enjoy where they are and feel empowered by constantly improving both. Through twists and spins, life can only get more colorful. “All the world’s a stage!” I want these children to