Every inch of me, every inch of you- we are prejudged and given involuntary connotations based on what race we are, the prestigiousness of our school, the viability of our major, and so on.

As a part-time waitress, I am constantly asked where I come from. “Connecticut,” I’ll say in response, and then be asked the same question with the word "from" linguistically elongated. Still, the person will remain unsatisfied unless I tell them that I was born in South Korea and then adopted when I was three months old, moving to the U.S. shortly after. At one point, a coworker came up to me and said, “Konichiwa,” and although I gave a fallacious laugh, I was offended to be presumptuously categorized. Why is it that people often forget the "American" in Asian-American? Because I am Asian, I am assumed to be socially awkward, non-English speaking, etc. However, the truth is that I have no tongue for any Asian language, I do not enjoy math (although it is deserving of merit) and the only Asian food I’ve eaten is from the local take-out down the street that accepts dining dollars from my college.

I’ve recently transferred as a sophomore to Savannah College of Art and Design in Georgia and will admit that I expected the academics to be relatively unchallenging. Having graduated high school cum laude and a 3.9 college GPA, I thought that art foundation classes would be just that… art foundation classes. Instead, I’ve found myself sleepless and studying for consecutive nights and working twice as much as I did at my previous university.

Another foolish expectation I had was to enter art school and meet your average misanthrope listening to alternative rock, contemporary hippies on shrooms and sun-kissed tumblr kids taking polaroids. Instead, I’ve met engineers and brilliant artists, 3D print-makers designing the future (literally) architects, writers and those dauntless (and talented) enough to pursue the performing arts. Although my college is only the liberal and fine arts, I have never been exposed to such diversity; never will I agree to the connotation that art school is just that… art school.

“What’s your major?”

I get asked that a lot after I tell people I’ve moved from Connecticut to Georgia for school.

“Writing,” I’ll say.

“What do you want to do with that?”

It is always followed by that.

That is a dying major. It is a small portal for job opportunity, and trying to make it as a poet is essentially succumbing to every negative stereotype associated with being an artist. Pursuing any liberal art is- sadly, but truly- undermined in comparison with other pursuits as a whole. But, in any given situation, if you love something, you will find a way to make it work. At nineteen I am proudly editing for an online magazine (this one, in fact,) and planning on pursuing my doctorate to teach college English, as well as write as a vice- I am making it work. Note that this has not been written to be egotistical or pretentious in any manner, but if you think I am a pompous son-of-a-bitch, that is okay with me too.

How is it possible, realistic, to define someone as a composure of their race, the school that they attend, their major, etc. To only scratch the surface of someone is surely unfair. We cannot continue to assume and be made to believe that every connotation and stereotype holds an immense amount of truth, that is not the truth. We are always prejudging and being confined by flawed associations, doing nothing more than inhibiting our own individual growth.