AAYP 2015 Youth Ambassadors Scholarship
Angela Ma Lentini
My name is Angela Ma Lentini.
They say a name resonates because of its uniqueness—that a name is Your Identity.
I’m writing this to tell you that there is more to me my name. An actual life exists just beneath the surface of my 15-letter moniker —a life of rich culture and bold character. There is a passion for the arts. There is willpower to break norms.
But I wasn’t always like this.
I grew up in the Asian Ghetto (I joke)—aka Flushing, Queens. I lived with my parents, grandparents, and siblings, and spent most of my days playing piano, practicing ballet and studying Chinese.
Challenge No.1: The Tiger Mom.
As a child growing up in an Asian community, 1 thought life seemed fairly normal. I didn’t question why things were the way they were, and went about business under my mother’s firm hand. She was the Tiger Mom— quick to command and quick to expect results. Under her orders, I have spent many and tedious hours behind the piano or behind the books. 1 found myself often excluded from society—a trend that would continue as I remained in my mother’s house. Thankfully, I learn to accept my place.
Speaking of trends, this one continues indefinitely—
Challenge No.2: Learning Chinese.
Learning Chinese was an absolute struggle, and still challenges me today. The journey begins in Queens where a casual observer may find a small Angela sitting with a pencil in one hand and a Grade 1 Chinese schoolbook in the other, and ends (or, rather, continues) in Long Island with a larger Angela sitting at her desk in AP Chinese class. 1 have to say, I’ve come a long way—but it hasn’t been easy. I find learning Chinese to be especially hard because of the environment 1 live in. I am constantly influenced by my American [actually mostly Jewish] community that I sometimes need to make time to study the Chinese language and culture. But don’t get me wrong—my culture is apparent everywhere at home. Therefore, the hardest challenge for me now is maintaining that aura and persisting with the language.
And so it begins—
Challenge No.3: Blending In
I wouldn’t consider myself a blatant obstruction to the casual viewer, but I’m not invisible either. As 1 promised 1 would divulge earlier, my real journey began when I moved to Long Island. As the story goes: girl moves to new place, girl finds love and happiness despite turmoil, blah blah, Hollywood ending. But not if you’re a young Asian American. Try this: girl moves to new place, finds completely new and rather different faces, tries to figure out what’s what, is too Asian to do that, struggles to pick up on social norms, and tries to learn how to blend in (spoiler alert—I’ve learned how).
I remember this one time that embodies perfectly the struggle of fitting in. It was the morning of the first day of high school and I was about to walk over and hopefully not get ambushed by the upperclassmen. I found myself just one foot out of the door when my mom comes over and nonchalantly says,
“Your grandpa is walking you to school. Wait for him.”
I look at her and felt the urge to argue back when something caught my eye.
My grandpa was standing there with his Chinese straw hat on and a long
walking stick. Right in that image, I saw my social life ending.
“Mom. You can’t be serious.”
“I’m very serious. You should be grateful he got up this early to make sure you get to school safely.”
“…xiexie waigong.” I half-heartedly thanked him and he smiled. Then he walked ahead of me, leading the way with his absurd walking stick.
All that needs to be said is that I speed-walked and made sure no one saw me with him. But as I was about to enter the school, I looked back and saw my grandpa standing there waving to me, looking so happy and so Chinese. And in that moment, I was proud of who I am.
I waved back and shouted goodbye in front of the whole campus.