Essay On My Identity

The identity we assume can often be a large part of how we see ourselves and how others around us can get a snapshot of our personalities, our origins, and how we wish to be portrayed. Sometimes the line between distinct identities can be blurred and a person can lose sight of who they are or where they feel like they belong most. Such can often be the case for immigrants as myself, who can sometimes struggle to find the identity that addresses the new life they have molded into and most represents their culture and experiences. The course of my life changed forever in August of 2003, when my family and I made the move to the United States from a small town in northeastern Italy. Upon my arrival in the U.S I noticed, even at my young age, that gone were the rolling, lush hills of northern Italy; the sprawling vineyards and olive groves; the tiny, eclectic cars; the mature stone buildings; but most importantly, gone was everything I had known before. What greeted me in the U.S was an entirely new language, an unfamiliar culture, and the melting pot of people, all of which I needed to confront head on. Unbeknownst to me at the time was the fact that this new country would be the place where most of my memories would be made; the place that would feel most like my home. From that moment on, my life continued to be molded around this new country and I began to gradually relinquish my old life in Italy and even traces of the culture and traditions that I used to value so highly.
I no longer celebrated most of the Italian holidays and I was so young when I moved here that my English lacked the stereotypical “Italian accent”. Even the food I ate became less traditionally Italian and the clothes I wore screamed American logos and brands. For a period of time I was happy to be blending in with the rest of my peers and even wanted to go