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See and read some of the winning entries! • Kindergarten through Fifth Grade • Sixth through Eighth Grade • Ninth through Twelfth Grade

Growing Up Asian in America Contest

Winners in 9-12 Group

1st place art: painting by Morgan Ng, age 17
Leland High School, San Jose

Click for large, full-size image.

Click for large, full-size image.

Click for large, full-size image.

Bindi

through a small red dot, you can see the essence of my Indianness.

i have often wondered what it is like to be entirely One.

not Two. One.

sunday morning is temple morning.

old navy flannel pajamas. colgate toothpaste. american dove soap.

i still have one hour for my transformation.

my closet is sadly segregated.

american. indian.

on the left, jeans, sweatshirts, tee shirts.

on the right, silk saris, cotton blouses, gold zari.

today, i must choose from the latter...

 

a sari is a work of art.

pleats of silk surround a cotton interior.

folds of my american life surround the core of my indian upbringing.

the sari is wrapped around me.

yet, i am wrapped in feelings of hypocrisy.

i speak like an american. i look like an indian.

i am Two. i am not One.

but, my transformation is not complete.

it is time to affix my bindi.

a small dot painted at the center of my forehead.

red. it matches with the border of my sari.

the symbol of beauty which completes any indian ensemble.

i am now the embodiment of a traditional girl.

i now look completely indian.

for the afternoon, i am One.

 

the temple is filled with people,

but i merge into the crowd.

i follow my parents from deity to deity.

they love it when i am dressed like this.

i am the final product of all their efforts to keep me indian in america.

i pay homage to Ganesh,

elephant god, remover of obstacles.

i kneel, and my bindi touches the cold marble floor.

 

it is time to leave the temple.

in the window of the car, i see my reflection.

my bindi has been smudged.

now, the carefully painted dot is blurry, like a red fingerprint.

it is no longer at the center of my forehead.

this imperfect, cloudy bindi

is the symbol of me.

i am not completely indian

yet, i still hold the values of my parents.

sometimes, i feel integrated into the indian world.

at other times, i am all american.

thus, i wear forever a blurred bindi.

it shows that i am not One.

i am Two.

And I am proud.