Two Identities, One Girl, by Marwah Ayache

My parents were born in the 1960s and raised in a small village called Doueir in the south of Lebanon. They grew up happy there. My dad loved playing soccer—he played on a league and was an all-star. He was a math wiz and studied Calculus III during his senior year of high school. My mom enjoyed hanging out with her friends in the café by her school and loved helping around the house. They both came from big families, my dad being one of 10 and my mother one of six, and they hoped that they would have a family as big as that. While my parents knew of each other through family, they would not meet until the late 1980s.

The war in Lebanon in the 1980s had a huge effect on my parents. When the war started at the beginning of the 1980s, my father's family (except for his brother) immigrated to America in hopes of a better opportunity. While my father was, and still is, proud of where he came from and grew up, he knew that America was a better place to live. He took some college classes before dropping out and started working. My mom stayed behind because her family did not have the means to leave. Her sister, my aunt, was too sick to travel.

Lebanon got through the war, just like my mother's family—broken—but they survived. My dad decided to take a trip back home in the late 1980s. His brother, my uncle, had gotten married towards the end of the war and my dad wanted to visit. Interestingly, his brother ended up marrying my mother's sister, my aunt. It was at my aunt and uncle's house that my parents officially met. My parents got married a year or so later in 1990.

When deciding where to live, my parents were extremely torn. On one hand, my parents loved Lebanon—it was the only home they truly knew. However, they knew that they both wanted kids and they understood that Lebanon was not a place to raise kids comfortably. My parents understood that a lot of sacrifices would have to be made by my siblings and me and it would cause us to struggle. It could be hard for us to leave the country if we wanted to move. If we got a college degree from a Lebanese university, we would not be able to use it in other countries because they would not accept a degree from there. My parents knew we would have better educational, economic, and social opportunities in America versus Lebanon. They understood that they would have to make a sacrifice and move overseas to a country they did not really know in order for my siblings and me to get the opportunities we needed. With heavy hearts, my parents packed and took what money they could to America.

They settled in a suburb in Michigan in a small two bedroom house. They were able to raise my two older siblings in that house. However, the house became too small once I was born and my parents decided to move the family to a bigger house in the neighboring. It worked out for the better since the school district in that area was better than the school district in the other suburb. Additionally, we ended up with really nice neighbors who were either born and raised in America or came from the Middle East. It was a nice mix and we got along well with all of them. We taught each other a lot and shared food, cultures, beliefs, and laughs together.

My parents still manage to keep our ethnic identity strong while living in America. They celebrate it in any way possible. We take trips back to Lebanon every few summers, and it is absolutely amazing. All my family is there in the village where my parents grew up. These trips remind me of the reason why I am so proud to be Lebanese. I see the beauty of the country my family is from. I spend time at the beautiful Mediterranean beaches and spend hours with family without having to worry. I get to eat authentic Lebanese food. Taking those trips is like going to paradise.

My parents remind my siblings and me of our ethnic identity in other ways, too. My mom cooks us Lebanese food all the time and my family always get Lebanese sweets. Whenever we are celebrating a holiday, we go to the mosque and/or decorate the house, depending on which one it is. My parents brought my siblings and me Lebanese-inspired items to wear or to decorate the house with. My siblings and I were enrolled in Saturday Arabic School so we would learn more about our culture and how to read, speak, and write in Arabic. Our parents made sure that my siblings and I knew where we came from and that we were proud of it, which definitely worked. I would not be who I am today if my parents did not do all these things. However, my parents still celebrated the American side of our identity. We watched fireworks in the Fourth of July and cooked Thanksgiving dinner every year like most American families. My family and I visited the Great Lakes. My siblings and I went trick or treating on Halloween and dressed up in costumes. We learned how to speak, read, and write in English. My parents celebrated the best of both worlds.

For a long time, however, this made me feel like I was stuck between two worlds. I did not know how to balance my Lebanese identity with my Americans identity. They were not drastically different by any means, but it was a huge struggle for me. I never felt like I was truly one identity or another for the longest time, and I felt like I had to choose one or the other. This led to me making a pretty bad decision. I disregarded my Lebanese identity to be more American in order to impress people and make friends. I was not proud of my Lebanese identity and it took me a long time to actually be proud of it. My parents helped tremendously. I came to realize that I did not have to give up my Lebanese identity to embrace my American identity. Both are important parts of who I am, and I should be proud of both.