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Where I'm From

When people ask me where I am from, I say Astoria, Queens. When I see an unsatisfied look in their faces, I realize that that wasn't the answer they were looking for. I then respond with a smile after realizing what had happened, "Oh you mean my background?"

Coming to America

I boarded the airplane in Islamabad, Pakistan. I forget how long it took to cross the Atlantic and finally get to New York, but at that age, time was the least of any worries. When my dad greeted us at JFK, and we made our way to the two story house amid the snow from the day before, I never realized then, that the house I entered in 1994, would be the same house I would continue to live in for over 14 years. Assimilation to the different environment was never too difficult for me at this age, for one, English was something that I had already got accustomed to hearing and speaking. I knew my alphabet and what little phrases I already knew, helped me pick up English really easily. Because I was four, I waited a year to enter Kindergarten. Since, I was at the age of curiosity and playful imaginations, the idea of a cultural clash never became apparent to until I entered Junior High School, and social desire began to conflict with those of the Pakistani-"Muslim" norms. It was at that age when my interests different from that of my parents or "our culture." More importantly to note that I never discovered this conflict before, because when I was in elementary school there was never much on my mind other than going to school, playing with my friends, and being with my family. All of which was accepted in the eyes of "my culture" because I was a "kid." Junior High School was when children started to "hang out" especially in a way that was not related to education or anything school related, it was simply to "chill" or just to have a good time with ones friends.

Being the youngest however, made my life simpler than my older sisters. Because I never realized the Pakistani culture while living in Pakistan, my parents were forced to give me their own explanations when I asked them flat out why I wasn't allowed to do somethings my friends' parents allowed them to do. In addition, I tried my best to force my parents to see my point of view objectively taking inconsideration the situation I was placed in. Nonetheless, this process required much compromise not only on my part but my parents as well, after all, no tradition is easy to mold, to forget or to form since traditions develop on established customs and beliefs. A tradition is changed only after consistent struggle and such that the resulting tradition is more logical than the previous.

I love chocolate, and I love working out!