THE "EAST MEETS WEST"

Everybody has a place with a wide range of networks as well as gatherings characterized by (in addition to other things) shared geology, religion, nationality, pay, food, interest, race, philosophy, or scholarly legacy. Pick one of the networks to which you have a place, and depict that local area and your place inside it.

Here is the exposition:

I check out my room, faintly lit by an orange light. On a work area in the left corner, an outlined image of an Asian family is radiating their grins, covered among US history reading material and The Great Gatsby. A Korean number streams from a couple of little PC speakers. Flyers of American schools are dispersed about on the floor. A cool December wind floats a weird imbuement of ramen and extra pizza. On the divider in the far back, a Korean banner hangs other than a Led Zeppelin banner.

Do I see myself as Korean or American?

A couple of years back, I would have answered: "Not one or the other." The baffling snapshots of miscommunication, the smothering achiness to visit the family, and the unthinkable issue of settling on the Korean or American table in the eating corridor, all powered my character emergency.

Remaining in the "Unfamiliar Passports" segment at JFK, I have gotten a handle on 100% of the time of spot. Certainly, I grasped a Korean identification, and I adored kimchi and Yuna Kim and knew the Korean Anthem forwards and backwards. Be that as it may, I additionally adored macaroni and cheddar and LeBron and knew every one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers tunes forwards and backwards. Somewhere inside, I expected that I would essentially be named as what I am sorted at air terminal traditions: an outsider in all places.

This equivocalness of presence, nonetheless, has allowed me the chance to ingest the smartest possible solution. Investigate my apartment. This mélange of societies in my East-meets-West room encapsulates the variety that describes my worldwide understudy life.

I have figured out how to acknowledge my "equivocalness" as "variety," as a third-culture understudy accepting the two characters in this assorted local area that I am honored to be a piece of.

Do I view myself as Korean or American?

Presently, I can gladly reply: "Both."