I'm sure we can all agree that growing up multiracial in the suburban U.S., where cultural diversity is not always celebrated, can lead down a dangerous path of hiding parts of ourselves. From my experiences, it was only after letting go of what other people think and embracing my roots that I become a better version of myself, opening the door to so many friendships and life experiences I would not have otherwise had.

As background, my mother's side of the family is Indian, while my father's side is a European mix, predominantly Italian. This makes me half-Indian, a combination I personally have rarely seen outside of my younger sisters and two little cousins. When I was very young I accepted my Indian culture as the norm; I didn’t know that the average American family doesn’t celebrate Diwali, and I didn’t realize that not everyone wears bindis (or even knows what a bindi is). My Indian grandparents, who I’m lucky to have only a town over, regularly dressed me up in Indian clothes, brought me to Indian parties, and set me up on play-dates with other Indian children. Looking back, my naivety allowed me to be who I truly was without worrying about what other people thought.

That all changed in middle school. As everyone above the age of 15 surely knows by now, our main goal in middle school was conformity. We had to have clothes from the coolest store in the mall (Aeropostale), obsess over the same social media (Facebook, 24/7), and own the hottest cell phone (the Motorola Razr, of course). It was at this stage in my life when I realized my culture was different. I was in a confusing position; I didn’t quite fit the mold of my white friends, but I also was not accepted by the fully Indian kids. My middle school clique was a very homogenous group, which led me into believing that I needed to hide half of who I was. I balked at the idea of hanging out with my grandparents and dreaded visiting our extended family. I refused all invites to Indian parties, and when my parents forced me into going, I would spend the entire time sulking in the corner with my younger sisters who shared the same sentiment.

When I was in seventh grade, my parents announced that we would be spending almost a month in India, visiting relatives and sightseeing all over the country. My sisters and I literally shed tears over this — and not in a happy way. I was devastated. Why couldn’t we just be like my friends’ families who vacationed at Disney World, or went on ski trips in Utah? For a while I thought my parents were playing a practical joke on us; why else would they bring us to a third-world, disease-ridden country like that? I only accepted this as the truth when I was dragged into the pediatrician’s office for the vaccinations required to visit India.

So we went, and I had fun — probably as much fun as I would’ve had going somewhere like the Cape, to be honest. To me, it was just a vacation in a weird, scary, dirty place. Looking back, I am actually very thankful to my parents for bringing my sisters and I on that trip; we visited the Taj Mahal, rode elephants through the streets of Jaipur, and visited countless temples in Mumbai and Delhi. We swam at the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen and visited extended family who were so thrilled to meet their American relatives. While I had a good time, I still didn't appreciate the trip and certainly did not celebrate my culture. In fact, it was not until a change in my outlook several years later that I actually became thankful for this opportunity and appreciative of my heritage.

So, what was it exactly that caused such a drastic change in my mindset? Ironically, I can attribute this to my peers in high school, and more specifically, the new friends I met in my high school orchestra. A good percentage of the kids in my high school’s orchestra were Indian and it was in this way that I managed to form a close-knit friend group with people who I shared a deeper connection with. Of course, I still cherished and hung out with my older friends just as much as with my newer friends, but it was refreshing to have a group of people who shared so many cultural experiences with me. By witnessing my new group of friends celebrating their Indian culture, I felt encouraged to embrace my own. And you know what I discovered? My non-Indians friends were not only accepting of this, but loved me just as much.

One experience that stands out to me as a turning point occurred during my sophomore year, when one of my friends invited me to her traditional Indian dance performance. Independent of my parents, grandparents, or other friends, I decided to dress up in Indian clothes and wear a bindi. Yes, I stood out somewhat amongst the friends of mine that also attended the performance, but I didn’t mind one bit.

I have decided to accompany my grandparents on another month-long trip to India this winter, a trip I would never have agreed to a few years ago. I am so excited to experience, with a fresh perspective, the culture of the country that makes up half of who I am.

For anyone out there who is ashamed to show who they truly are, my advice to you is to focus on how lucky you are to be born with such a rich culture, whichever that may be. As a half-Indian, I’ve been blessed with a huge extended family on my mother’s side, diverse and spicy foods, and the opportunity to travel to India — a country I probably otherwise would never have visited — not once, but twice in my lifetime. With luck, I’ll be able to go several more times, maybe with my own family once I’m older. I'm sure I speak for many people when I say that being multiracial in the United States is both a blessing and a curse. There are always going to be low points, but at the end of the day it is important that we embrace our roots and cherish our culture.