My parents’ journey to America has been a story that has been told in my household a countless number of times but every time I find the tale more interesting than the last. My parents were both brought up in rural Bangladesh during a time of political turmoil. Bangladesh was fighting for its independence against their mother country of Pakistan and this revolution affected every citizen of the small country of Bangladesh in one-way or another. Tanks would roam the streets ready to put down any revolutionary sentiment. During my father’s childhood, he tells me, he would have to run inside at the first sound of a plane in fear of bombings. Life was hard for my parents, which makes me appreciate their plight even more. However, one specific story has always resonated in my head. My dad has about 5 brothers and 4 sisters and they all lived under this one small tiny makeshift hut. During monsoon season, the pitter-patter of the rain on their tin roof would put him fast to sleep and to this day my father and I love the sound of rain. However, this particular rainy evening was much scarier than most. In the distance, my father’s mother, my grandmother, could see a tank across the pond that separated their land from the majority of other houses. Normally, this would not pose a threat but the tank was aimed directly at my father’s home. To help me visualize this scene better and the fear my father must have been feeling, I always imagine the scene in movies when the camera angle pans out from a tank directly to it’s target. My grandmother told my father and all my aunts and uncles to get under the bed, which obviously wasn’t much protection, and hide there until she said it was safe. Now during this time, if a tank blew up a small village or a small home without any proper justification, nothing would be done about it. It would more than likely just go unheard of which made what happened next so much more amazing. The tank didn’t move it’s position for almost 20 minutes. That might not seem like long but in light of the situation, 20 minutes could feel like days. After waiting and waiting, the tank finally decided to move on. My father, when recounting the story to me, attributes this miracle to nothing less than an act of God.

Similar stories of horrible living conditions have had a huge impact on how I viewed my parents’ immigration. Although I personally did not experience the uprooting that my parents both did, I appreciate all that they have done so that I can live a comfortable life. They left their homes to pursue a better future for themselves and the family they would soon come to have and there is nothing that I can do but to be grateful for their enormous sacrifice.

Coming from a South East Asian country to America, there is going to be a huge culture shift. Learning to assimilate and understand the society around you was something that my parents had to learn for them to establish a life here. While I never had an issue learning the culture of America since I was born here, it’s always been hard for me to balance the culture of the country that my parents left behind and the culture of the country I was living in. After almost 19 years of trying to find this balance, there are many things that my Bengali heritage has taught me and many things I wish I could change about the culture. One of the most stereotypical and borderline racist things I have ever heard was that “All brown people grow up to be either doctors, engineers or MBA’s.” Not only was the term “brown people” especially condescending because it didn’t specify any one ethnicity, but the statement indirectly dictated what professions Asian people were allowed to pursue. If you chose to follow any one of the three careers, then you were living up to the stereotype regardless of if you have a passion for the subject or not. If you didn’t chose to follow any one of the three careers, then you weren’t truly considered “brown.” I hated it but always believed that my family was the exception and that my family would never push me to do anything I didn’t want to. But I was surprised when my mom started asking me what kind of doctor I wanted to be. Not if I had decided I want to be a doctor but what kind of doctor as if the fact that I was going to be a doctor was assumed. This aspect of people pushing what they think is best for you into your life is one thing about my Bengali culture I absolutely despise. It really limits an individual from pursuing their passions and is one thing I wish my parents would have left overseas when they came here.

Although I am forced to pick and choose which aspects of my Bengali heritage I want to adopt, there are many things that are a part of my culture that has molded me into the person I am today. One thing I’m very glad my Bengali culture has taught me is the sense of community that every Bengali person has. Looking out for those around you and just being someone that others can depend on are two things that my community has taught me. I am very grateful because many people spend their lives trying to develop these morals and I was always told that these are the foundations of your character as a person.

Coming from another country, regardless of how easy or difficult the journey might be, has an overwhelming impact on who you are and eventually how you’re kids are. I’ll never be able to express the profound impact that my parents, their experiences trying to assimilate to this new country and my Bengali culture have had on me as a person.