I transformed myself into an American Woman in front of a television screen. Eight years ago, I would hover around the glow of the television screen nightly, absorbing American mannerisms, colloquialisms, and cultural norms from various television shows. I consciously weaved them into my own vocabulary and behavior in the hopes that my classmates and teachers would no longer ridicule my accent, or my clothing, or my lunch. The moment the closing credits would appear, I would sprint to the mirror, repeating random phrases until I no longer recognized my own voice, until the memory of a life before America had dissolved.
I would also immerse myself in these fantasy worlds to cope with overwhelming isolation. I was particularly fascinated by spy shows, which I viewed as an allegory for the immigrant experience. I became enamored with the quintessential American spy, whose familial and romantic bonds snap under the strain of secrets, who leads a lonely existence akin to that of the immigrant. I delighted in spies’ vulnerability, which they strove to conceal from their partners at work and at home, mirroring how I would cry in one room while my mother cried in another, each hiding it from the other.
Yet, I simultaneously resented these spies who could shed and reclaim their cultures and identities as quickly and painlessly as they slipped in and out of countries. I envied how their worldliness and multilingualism were valuable assets in the field– how they were lauded for the very skills that my classmates persecuted me for. I loathed the oversimplification of non-American cultures on spy shows and the depiction of other nations as pawns easily manipulated by America to serve American interests. These shows wholeheartedly embraced the narrative of American exceptionalism, which had been crammed down my throat ever since I set foot on American soil.
In spy shows and in television, I discovered America. In spy shows and in television, I found sources of comfort and anger. I struggled to understand why the spy shows I adored prized adaptability, while America encouraged me to forsake my own culture. I struggled to understand why America was consistently placed on a pedestal, why no one would acknowledge that under this pedestal, lay the bones of people of color, of immigrants, of women.
America’s schools and American media both urge immigrants to substitute their own beliefs and traditions with American institutions and values. I believe that it is necessary to reexamine this prevailing conception of assimilation, where immigrants must adopt the culture of their new home and sacrifice their native culture. We must redefine assimilation by allowing immigrants to celebrate their native cultures without regarding them as inferior to our own.
