Culture. Family. Roots.

Two weeks ago I took part in one of the “Ephventures,” or orientation trips Williams College has to offer, called Root. The program was informative and fun but the most lasting effect it had on me was how it has caused me to reflect on my identity. A good portion of Root was focused on environmental sustainability and justice (hence the name) and I thoroughly enjoyed that aspect and plan to delve deeper into this both during my time at Williams and writing for The Odyssey Online. However, this specific article is focused on the second half of Root’s mission—identity, specifically, my Eritrean identity.

My parents are from Eritrea, a small East African country. Thus, this makes me the first generation of my family to be born in America. As a child, I internalized a lot of the stigma placed upon “foreigners” to America. Which is to say, I was, whether I knew it then or not, ashamed to be African.

I recall hating when my parents would speak loudly in Tigrinya (a native Eritrean language) and how whenever I would wear traditional dress, I hated getting out in public, being overwhelmed with insecurity and self-consciousness. I felt anything other than American and for whatever reason, associated that with cause for embarrassment. I didn’t want to feel different than the other kids, choosing rather to assimilate.

It pains me now to look back on how I pushed my culture away. I come from a diverse, strong, and loving group of people. My culture is colorful and never again will I try to dull it.

Still, I have made a lot of progress. I am a proud Eritrean woman. I’ve taken ownership of my culture. I love my people, my food, my languages, my country and most importantly—I love myself.