At only eight years old, I dealt with insurance papers, listened to phone calls, and translated conversations at doctor appointments. My parents worked long hours to support my family, so I became the main translator for my grandparents who didn’t speak English. I vividly remember my heart pounding when I stood in front of pharmacy counters, relaying information between my grandparents and the pharmacist. Customers behind us would stare, impatiently waiting for their turn as we held up lines. Just as terrifying were the daunting phone calls handed over to me to translate questions. The back-and-forth exchange always overwhelmed me. I felt a lot of pressure being the bridge between my grandparents and the English-speaking world. In each conversation I translated, I was frustrated seeing how irritated people were while speaking to a child. Although I was young, I tried my best to remain professional and mature. The weight of this role wasn’t always easy to bear as fear and uncertainty lingered with each interaction. After elementary school, my translating skills evolved and applied to seemingly common tasks. Most tasks involved helping them at the grocery store, sorting paperwork, and making appointments. Prioritizing their needs often meant putting mine aside, which frustrated me as a middle school student. I wanted to be a kid—free from the constant worry about being an interpreter every turn I took. As my grandparents’ interpreter in one of the few Asian households in my community, it was difficult for me to embrace my culture and, ultimately, myself. Unlike the more commonly known romance languages, Cantonese and Vietnamese sound choppy to those who are unfamiliar with the dialects. Speaking my family’s tongue made the idea of “being different” synonymous with “being an outcast”. When others asked if I spoke languages besides English, I denied such claims, yearning to fit in with my peers. Society blinded me by creating this made-up version of myself to avoid discrimination. When I entered high school, I began tutoring ESL students, drawing from my own experiences as someone who had to learn English as a third language—I understood how it felt to be in their shoes. This empathy deepened when starting my commitment as a volunteer at my local hospital. Seeing the unsettling disadvantages families faced when struggling to communicate due to language barriers compelled me to take action by getting them the help needed. This made me realize how important it is to not only understand multiple languages, but also be willing to support those who need assistance. My efforts of being a translator for my grandparents suddenly took on a new meaning: I wasn’t just facilitating conversations—I was advocating for those who were unable to do so for themselves. By doing this, I honor the sacrifices my grandparents made to give me and my family the life we have. My multilingual background expands my potential, broadening what I can achieve in life as it not only enhances my communication skills but empowers me to speak up for others, bridging cultural divides and fostering empathy. The new mindset that I have built will facilitate future success toward my aspiration to work in the medical field by helping me communicate with patients directly. My self-acceptance has made me realize the capabilities I have for myself by overcoming my boundaries. Instead of letting society shape who I am, I use what I have learned to shape society and create change for the better. Eight-year-old me would be surprised to learn that I now proudly say, “I love being Asian,” fostering a world of interconnectedness and cultural diversity for years to come.

At only eight years old, I dealt with insurance papers, listened to phone calls, and translated conversations at doctor appointments. My parents worked long hours to support my family, so I became the main translator for my grandparents who didn’t speak English. I vividly remember my heart pounding when I stood in front of pharmacy counters, relaying information between my grandparents and the pharmacist. Customers behind us would stare, impatiently waiting for their turn as we held up lines. Just as terrifying were the daunting phone calls handed over to me to translate questions. The back-and-forth exchange always overwhelmed me. I felt a lot of pressure being the bridge between my grandparents and the English-speaking world. In each conversation I translated, I was frustrated seeing how irritated people were while speaking to a child. Although I was young, I tried my best to remain professional and mature. The weight of this role wasn’t always easy to bear as fear and uncertainty lingered with each interaction. After elementary school, my translating skills evolved and applied to seemingly common tasks. Most tasks involved helping them at the grocery store, sorting paperwork, and making appointments. Prioritizing their needs often meant putting mine aside, which frustrated me as a middle school student. I wanted to be a kid—free from the constant worry about being an interpreter every turn I took. As my grandparents’ interpreter in one of the few Asian households in my community, it was difficult for me to embrace my culture and, ultimately, myself. Unlike the more commonly known romance languages, Cantonese and Vietnamese sound choppy to those who are unfamiliar with the dialects. Speaking my family’s tongue made the idea of “being different” synonymous with “being an outcast”. When others asked if I spoke languages besides English, I denied such claims, yearning to fit in with my peers. Society blinded me by creating this made-up version of myself to avoid discrimination. When I entered high school, I began tutoring ESL students, drawing from my own experiences as someone who had to learn English as a third language—I understood how it felt to be in their shoes. This empathy deepened when starting my commitment as a volunteer at my local hospital. Seeing the unsettling disadvantages families faced when struggling to communicate due to language barriers compelled me to take action by getting them the help needed. This made me realize how important it is to not only understand multiple languages, but also be willing to support those who need assistance. My efforts of being a translator for my grandparents suddenly took on a new meaning: I wasn’t just facilitating conversations—I was advocating for those who were unable to do so for themselves. By doing this, I honor the sacrifices my grandparents made to give me and my family the life we have. My multilingual background expands my potential, broadening what I can achieve in life as it not only enhances my communication skills but empowers me to speak up for others, bridging cultural divides and fostering empathy. The new mindset that I have built will facilitate future success toward my aspiration to work in the medical field by helping me communicate with patients directly. My self-acceptance has made me realize the capabilities I have for myself by overcoming my boundaries. Instead of letting society shape who I am, I use what I have learned to shape society and create change for the better. Eight-year-old me would be surprised to learn that I now proudly say, “I love being Asian,” fostering a world of interconnectedness and cultural diversity for years to come.