During the summer time, UCLA undergoes a unique transformation. When most of its regular academic year students and faculty take a break or study abroad in Europe or Asia, a balance is completed when European and Asian students flock towards the warm Southern Californian sun and enroll in summer school. Instantly, the campus turns from a "diverse" community boasting of 45% Asian/Pacific Islander, 33% White/Non-Hispanic, 14% Hispanic, 2% Black/Non-Hispanic, and less than 1% American Indian/Alaskan Native, into a more global one.
One example can be seen in Bruin Walk, notorious for its backpack-to-backpack traffic around lunch time. This time, walking up and down Bruin Walk is like taking a quick tour of the world. German, Dutch, and Italian conversations could be heard, as well as an assortment of Asian languages (although Asian languages are common in my area). Perhaps a more noticeable indicator of foreign presence, although not an accurate one, is through observations of the fashion around campus.
During the usual school year, students tend to wear the typical Californian fashion, complete with Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister, and American Eagle for the preppies, while NIke and Adidas rule the sporty and gangster types, and Quicksilver, Billabong, and Roxy are adorn byt the OC types. Now, I'm not trying to start stereotypes or divide people by class (as clothes, though not accurate, tend to indicate class because one must afford a particular brand). I am, however, trying to note that these purely American fashions that were once typical during the UCLA academic year, are now the most rare. Sure, the sporty brands survive since sports dominate worldwide, but observing the campus, one can still notice a difference.
I'm so used to seeing guys wear baggy jeans and caps worn to the side. But now, they've been replaced with European men who wear Chinos and also what we Americans call "short shorts," as well as donning man-bags. You don't see very heterosexual American males with that, which is probably why we've created the category "the metrosexual male." The Europeans wear their man-bags with pride.
Now, Asian fashion is something I'm quite familiar with because I tend to see it in my area. I'm not sure how to describe it, but we in the Asian American community cal it the "Fob" look. It's an unfortunate derogatory term--unfortunate because it indicates that one is "fresh off the boat," that one just recently immigrated and doesn't understand American cues and culture.
This got me thinking about myself. Yes, I was a "Fob" once. But what happened to me? How did I change? And these questions were reinforced when I was waiting in line at Panda Express, America's answer to Chinese cuisine. There were a couple of Indonesians conversing in their native language. Having Indonesian being spoken makes me feel happy, because deep down inside of me, although I've been quite Americanized and America is all I know, a part of me still longs to retain part of my Indonesian identity, or at least to get in touch with my roots. As they were talking, I interrupted in Indonesian, which is translated for you.
Me: Hello, sorry to interrupt. Are you guys Indonesian?
Guy 1: Yes, we are. We're international students to be exact.
Me: Oh cool. Have you had the chance to check out LA? It's a pretty big city.
Guy 2: Not yet. We were thinking of going. Do I detect an American accent?
Me: Um...yah. (Laughs). I was raised here.
Guy 1: Great, maybe you could show us around.
Somewhat along my development in the United States, I think I've forgotten how to be Asian, but more specifically, Indonesian. But I realize when I say I forget, I'm not exactly sure what I mean. Is being Asian something you do? If so, what is it? Is being Asian something you wear or something you eat? Yet what you eat is a futile question because of California's multicultural variety. Heck, you can eat sushi on Monday, tacos on Tuesday, pasta on Wednesday, and so forth. Perhaps these are questions that are asked from immigrant children or children of immigrants. Aren't we the ones who tend to suffer from a dual identity crisis--that we aren't American enough for Americans, yet at the same time we aren't Asian enough for Asians.
Oohh...definitely something to write about for my Personal Statement.
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