“One of the joys of work is where it takes us. You know, how it helps us develop. That’s why it’s so important to do work that you absolutely love. It’s the only way you really grow, as who you were meant to be.” — Alice Walker
My parents always told me stories of what I was like in my earliest years. But I never stopped to consider how it has truly defined who I am until now. They said I came into this world a bold, confident and independent child, always willing to speak up, never willing to back down. I don’t remember this young version of me. But I know now, I’ve unknowingly spent most of my life trying to get back to her.
I came to the U.S. when I was two years old, a child of Cambodian refugees. I was lucky to be the perfect age to assimilate seamlessly to American culture. I didn’t understand the hardship we had just escaped, or the haven where we made our new home. For a while in the 80’s, Echo Park and Downtown L.A. were my world. Of course, I didn’t understand the concept of race, class or culture at that age. I just knew I belonged, surrounded by playmates who looked like me. So what changed?
First grade. Tehachapi, Kern County.
My parents opened their first donut shop here. I was suddenly taken away to a quiet, sleepy town. It was the first time I saw snow. And it was the first time my classmates were no longer brown and black. On the playground, I no longer heard the familiar mix of languages floating above me. And for the first time in my life, I felt lonely and out-of-place.
As a free spirit at home and with my old friends, I always had a little trouble with authority. But it wasn’t until this point that the tone changed. Instead of being one of many loud-mouthed L.A. kids with attitude and something to prove, I stood out here and my teachers weren’t having it. I was repeatedly shamed for speaking up in class; for being too loud, for being too talkative, for breaking the rules. Soon, that brash little girl turned inward, quiet and shy, too embarrassed to stand up and stand out for fear of being punished. I never again wanted to feel how hot my cheeks burned when I was ordered to stand in a corner in front of my classmates.
Unfortunately, this didn’t take long to break my spirit and the impact shaped me well into my adult life. Add to that, about three more moves across California and multiple school changes. By the time I was a teenager, I was a shadow of my former self.
But now, after years of hiding, of holding back and being less than, I’ve come to a full stop. I have no more fear, no more uncertainty in my heart. I know my worth. I see myself whole. I’ve owned up to all my flaws, all my mistakes and I humbly accept whatever is next on my path. So what changed?
Throughout my career, I’ve been called a workaholic, obsessed with perfection, and driven by a relentless work ethic. I didn’t really know why. I just chalked it up to my personality and how I was raised by parents who had the exact same DNA. But I know now it wasn’t just a matter of achieving. It was much more important than that. Over time, each role empowered me to gain back an intrinsic part of myself that I lost all those years ago. Stage by stage, I restored my power, my confidence and self-love. And now, I’m finally allowing myself to grow in whatever direction it takes me, charting a course for understanding who I was always meant to be.
