Fatin Ishteaaque, Period 1, 12/17/2021

 Identity is a characteristic intrinsic to us all, something that remains constant in an individual. No two identities are the same, and they shouldn't be, but sometimes it feels like you're a clone—a clone of the people around you, of your family. Parts of a person are taken from the people around them, with nothing truly their own. It takes a strong person to wade through this miasma of uncertainty and come out unscathed, and in fact, more of a complete person than before. 

Fatin Ishteaaque. It feels weird to type that. A little red line tells me I'm wrong as if it's not supposed to be there. For a long time, I thought that was right. Balancing my family's culture and my own proved to be a great difficulty, and it honestly took a toll on my sense of identity. Being the first American-born child of a fully Bengali family separated me from them, and made me feel alone, longing to belong. My school life was the same. When surrounded by American culture, it was my Bengali heritage that got in the way. Being left isolated in my home and social lives left me feeling alone in a world where I shouldn't be. The world kept moving around me, time didn't slow down like in the movies, and all I could do was go with it. So that's what I did, lived a life surrounded by amazing people, yet somehow still alone through it all, trying to choose whether I was American or Bengali. It wasn't until high school that I learned about the reality of life. 

The difference between high school and intermediate school was greater than I could've imagined at the time. Going to a public no-name middle school on Staten Island, every student lived around the area and shared the same experiences. Meanwhile, a specialized high school brought in people from all over the city. People whom all lived different lives, cultures, languages, forming a hub of multiculturalism that I didn't even know could exist in a school. The best part? They were terrific people; everyone was sociable, friendly, and got along great. I was able to join up with clubs and sports alongside kids I barely knew and who barely knew me. Playing handball after school and being the shy kid joining an animation club soon built up to taking trips to Brooklyn to play volleyball and becoming the President of my own club. For the first time in my life I felt accepted and even met people with cultural backgrounds similar to mine. When I saw all these people of different backgrounds and histories build bonds closer than blood, and when I started to develop my own with people who embraced my differences, that was when the realization hit me. Just because the circumstances of my birth were different from others, just because my responsibilities were different from others, just because I have two cultures, doesn't mean I have to choose between them. 

The acceptance of diversity in high school taught me to build my identity around being both Bengali and American. In a country where immigrants are constantly moving and starting new lives and families, the idea of not having to choose one string of culture to fulfill is fundamental. I'm sure that many first-generation immigrant students are left in limbo of uncertainty and isolation. I hope to use my experience and growth to help instigate future generations to find their own identity the same way I did. Leaders are not born, but instead, they are made, constructed by social situations and people's responses to them. If a child is left in doubt and loneliness, their individuality can never come to fruition. After all, identity makes us who we are, and although it might not be able to change, it is subject to growth.