Growing up as an Asian (Chinese in my case) American made me very aware of stereotypes. It shaped the way I view the world and the people around me as well as my behavior in the different sections of my life. For example, I was the class clown in elementary school. At that age, being Asian American and having no father figure, I looked to my peers for acceptance. I did a lot of Asian accents, tried hard to be an A+ student because Asians are supposed to be very smart, and practiced punching and kicking in my bedroom so that I could impress my peers. Another role I took on at through elementary school and most of middle school was being the class clown. Being the class clown made them laugh and it made me thankful that there were people that wanted to be around me; it helped with the loneliness. I think that the feeling of gratitude made me realize that I liked making the people around me happy; if they were happy, I was able to collect some of that happiness for myself. As I grew up, I was constantly battered with stereotypes from both the Chinese and American perspective. “Black people are uncultured. They are uncivilized and have no good upbringing.” “Black people don’t have fathers, they normally leave as soon as they hear about a pregnancy that might be their responsibility.” “Black people are dumb.” The list goes on and on. Here is the funny thing though: I lived in a predominately black neighborhood, specifically people from Somalia. Sure, I had encountered rude and ignorant people that had dark skin, but almost all of them were very nice to me. I think that growing up hearing these false beliefs and experiencing the truth has helped me realized that I can not judge others based on appearances and what other people say. Only after I have dealt with them and have a good hold on their character, can I make my moral assessments of them.