My name is Yohanna, and I am an American

I am proud to say that somewhere in my teen years, I stopped trying to classify myself in a stereotype. I have always been somewhat different. I was born in the Philippines, and came to America at the age of four. I have lived in North Hollywood, Lake View Terrace, Aliso Viejo, La Jolla, and currently, in an upper-middle class conservative town. Every town has contributed to who I am today.

It was around the age of ten when I became aware of categories, and I was pressured to conform, but did not know how.  The move from Lake View Terrace to Aliso Viejo was an especially crucial time when I was figuring out where I belonged. It was while at Aliso Viejo, an upscale town, that I first encountered kids who grew up living lives different from mine. People asked me where I was from, and L.A. to them was the Hollywood they pictured in movies. North Hollywood is far from that picture. It is an immigrant community, where often, one finds families living together. I told them my cousins were my neighbors and we played together everyday, while my mom took care of my sister, me, and my cousins (seven children in total), all ranging from the ages of one to twelve years old. Thinking that this was the norm, I was surprised to hear their stories. So who did you play with while growing up, I would ask. Well, I was busy with ballet class, soccer, and piano lessons, most would answer.

Since then, I have realized that most of them have lived in suburban cities where nice, clean schools were available to them, and having pools in backyards was not uncommon. I was becoming aware of the term "privileged" and what that category meant. I saw that for the most part, it meant living in safe neighborhoods, having brand-named clothing, and having an excellent education available to them.

I moved back to Lake View Terrace after a year, just when I was about to start the sixth grade. Afraid of not finding friends and starting all over again when I was just becoming so close to my "privileged" friends, the question of who I was once again hit me.  I did realize that I was no longer surrounded by "privileged" kids, and that I was once again back with kids labeled in the "minorities", like myself. Still, I did not know myself. What did it mean that I was classified into the category of "minorities"?  According to this category, "minorities" are supposed to live and stay in immigrant communities, but didn't I just challenge this label by living in Aliso Viejo and acquainting myself with "privileged" kids?  What does that say about who I am?

For high school, I have moved to where I live today, an extremely conservative suburban town. Because I enjoy school, I took many AP classes, and once more I defied another category: the category of being an "AP student". According to this category, "AP students" were high-achieving, privileged students, who studied excessively, and had no time to relax. They were arrogant people who cared about nothing but their studies. Again, this is another classification I could not be imprisoned in, and I have seen other "AP students" fail to follow the qualifications of an AP student too (some of the most intelligent people I have known are also some of the most humble and modest people I have ever worked with. Some became my greatest friends too).

It is around the time of high school that I realized that categories and labels were nothing and meant nothing, because I have been finding myself challenging every label I have been given, and have seen other people do the same. I am an immigrant, but contrary from the qualifications of this category, I speak fluent English (and so do my parents), work hard, and wish to be a productive citizen of society. I am a "minority" that was not supposed to excel in school, but I am grateful to have received a decent education, and am motivated to pursue my dreams. I may not qualify into the category of being "privileged", but I have lived and currently live in suburbia, so what does being "privileged" mean?

Here are some other ways I deviate from the status quo: I am also a devout church-going Catholic that prays the rosary daily, but contrary to the belief that religious people are close-minded, I respect people's beliefs and am fascinated by other traditions. I am shy and introverted, but always ready to speak out about my views. I am meticulous and can be a perfectionist, but cannot live a day without taking a break to appreciate, love, and laugh in life. Chemistry is my passion, but I hate doing labs (because I am very clumsy and have broken a thermometer and spilled a beaker of solution before. I also very much dislike lighting Bunsen burners). I love kids, but would never want to be a stay-at-home mom (although I believe this is a very noble job; it's just not for me).

Just when I was happy to finally understand that I was uniquely only Yohanna and that no category can contain me, I found out that I was undocumented. Perhaps because I was in denial, and perhaps because I believe I am an American, I did not really know what it meant to be undocumented; I assumed it was another category I could rebel against. I went to UC San Diego for a while, but could not keep up with the payments without financial aid, without access to most scholarships, without being able to legally work, and without being able to take out my own loans. Appallingly, the category of being "undocumented" is all too true and existent, and I actually meet every one of its qualifications. Alas, a category has finally succeeded in capturing me.

Being "undocumented" means I cannot work, I cannot drive, I am not given enough resources to further my education, and I fear people will judge me on a status I could not control rather than my character. For the first time in my life, I cannot freely speak out about the injustice I am experiencing out of fear when I desperately want people to know about the struggles of an "undocumented", and the future to me is full of unfulfilled dreams that have no way of being fulfilled. This is what it means to be in the category of being "undocumented" and I wish to end this labeling.

I find myself going through another identity crisis. Who am I and do I really belong in a category? I do not believe in categorizing people as if we are playthings that belong in a box, so why I am tagged as an "undocumented"? What is containing my free spirit?  I come upon this question while searching for my identity: Am I American and what does it mean to be American? After many months trying to figure out who I was, I learned that being American is not a category-it is an identity that I embrace, because it is a word that all people who live in and love America can be called. Being American is a unifying nationality we can all be proud of, because whether you are an immigrant or born here, whether you are a conservative or a liberal, whether you live in New York or California, whether you are an idealist or a realist, whether you are rich or poor, whether you are religious or an atheist, whether you are a doctor or a lawyer, you can be called an American. Being an American means that we are free individuals and therefore, the lack of a nine-digit number should not rule my life. I have great faith in America that this will be true soon, because we have proved in the past that justice will prevail over injustice-it is an American trait. Being American means we have the right to speak out when something is immoral, which is why I support the DREAM Act. Being American means believing that every person is entitled to rise up from circumstances when one works hard. Being American means having the freedom to be a unique individual. I can be called Yohanna and an American, and never belong in a category trying to fulfill conditions-and that is the greatest aspect about being an American.

So what will the DREAM Act accomplish? It will prove that being American means believing in these ideals. Passing the DREAM Act will mean that we do not judge people by false labels and categories, but by one's true potential. It will mean that our sense of justice is real and that we as Americans truly believe that we are united even when we have our differences. That is something to celebrate; therefore I will always be a proud American. I ask myself again: who am I? My name is Yohanna, and I am an American.