I couldn't even write my Chinese name! Maybe it was due to poor blood circulation within the certain part of my brain that controls language. I had to give up for another reason. It was because I had to spend more time on my school work. However, on some occasions, I felt guilty for my parents because I had deep thoughts of them being blamed for not bringing me up in an appropriate and traditional way. These thoughts had been a torment throughout my lower and middle school years.
In school, I was often called the "banana man" or "banana". As most of us understand, Chinese people are labeled as "the yellow people". The reason why I was referred to a banana was because bananas have yellow skin, but the fillings are white in color. It meant that although I had yellow skin, what was inside of me was a white boy. In other words, a Caucasian. I was very rebellious towards those remarks. Eventually, I became immune to being called names as I came to realize that it wasn't worth getting into violent fist fights. The sad thing was that the ones who called me names were Chinese. That was one reason why I didn't have any Chinese friends at that time. That was also a disadvantage for me, because I thought that I could pick up some Mandarin by mixing around with other Chinese peers. So, I remained consistently immune to those names, which I was called until I finished high school. .
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Everything went differently in college. I made huge amounts of friends. I felt like I had a chance of starting over a new life. That was when I really got to learn how to socialize, and adopt a wild sense of humor. The most important thing to me was that all my new found friends, including the Chinese, understood and accepted me for who I was. I was never discriminated against, despite the fact that they knew I was a "banana". I've always liked the way I was in college. Life in college was all about laughter. I was extremely thankful, and would remain thankful for the rest of my life that I met a group of humorous friends.