Sun-streaked blonde hair and ocean blue eyes. I remember praying that one day I would be like the rest of my friends. Growing up, I attended mostly Caucasian schools and was surrounded by American pop culture. However, at the same time, the close-knit network of my Korean American church families also instilled in me a sense that Korea was my home. This led to a lifelong struggle over which nation is my “homeland.” Say no to plagiarism. Get a custom essay on "Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned"?Get the original essayBorn in America, I grew up Korean, and as a second-generation Korean American, it's the real truth that I have experienced times where I have had problems with what my name is. With this, I believe in the importance of remaining true to oneself by respecting one's originality and the traditionalism of one's culture and appreciation of family. Ever since I was a child, my mother always told me never to assimilate into the ways of "worldly" people and sent me to spend countless hours in Sunday school torturing myself to memorize verses. and Bible stories while trying to mold myself into the “perfect” morally balanced Christian. In the Korean American Church, my parents were respected church elders and very involved, only later did I realize that this was the part of Korean culture where everything was reflected in your parents . I carried out every action and how I presented myself determined how I was treated by the rest of the church members. The way you dressed and your presentation was appropriate “mannerism” and a key factor in judging whether you raised your child “the right way.” This constant stress of fear of judgment motivated my choice to move to an American church in search of acceptance, where I was immediately accepted and felt a greater sense of belonging, regardless of my race. This made me realize that I identified as an American, thus proving the affirmation of diversity and acceptance of differences in the land of the free. At school, because I was treated like everyone else, never feeling different except in the way I looked, I called myself an American. Unconsciously, I surrounded myself with American friends and adapted more and more to American culture, fitting into the context of mainstream America. I wanted to look like my friends, change my hair or eye color to have even more of a sense of belonging. My heart had begun to harden towards the strict nature of Korean culture and was slowly drifting away from my Korean roots. I grew up in a household where my hands quickly got used to the soft keys of a piano and where notes were important and I had to be better, faster and smarter at everything. I assimilated into the "Americanized" way of life and when my rebellion against being the top academic and my refusal of traditions such as wearing the traditional dress worn on vacation shocked my parents and clashed with their ideas that had been influenced by their elevation. immense pride in their country of origin. My parents had never experienced this, my older sister being the perfect Korean child, the opposite of how I acted, they made the choice to send me to Korea. Back in America, where I had no other family, they wanted me to go to the country where the rest of my family was, hoping to connect me to my Korean origins. Reluctantly, I was sent to Korea, leaving my parents and all my friends behind. When I arrived, I.