Right When I Came Out Of The Womb Essay
Being a Chinese boy in Venezuela meant having to navigate the vicious waters of public school while also having a very visible target on you at all times. Let me just say that the amount of ostracization going on in school usually slanted towards me. But I survived! Hey, the only Asian in a Spanish speaking school means always working to fit in, always working to belong.
And I did. I started making friends and started feeling like I was Venezuelan. I mean I was, nationality wise. But I didn’t feel like I was Venezuelan until I started sitting with people during lunch in the cantina. It started to really feel like home. My home.
But then I wake up on a taxi with my mom and sisters, going to the airport.
I remember enjoying the airplane food and wondering what that orange drink was that the white person next to me was drinking. I didn’t know what orange juice was.
No crying or whining, just confusion over what orange juice was.
But my parents weren’t thinking about what drink the white man was drinking. They were thinking about the restaurant they had to leave behind. They were thinking about the relatives back in Venezuela and in China that were dependent on the remittances that were sent on a monthly basis.…