My
Name
is
Xiaoxue:
A
Personal
Account
of
a
Chinese-American's
Identity
My
name
is
Xiaoxue,
which
means
"little
snow"
in
Chinese.
Growing
up
in
the
United
States
as
a
Chinese-American,
my
name
has
always
been
a
source
of
both
pride
and
confusion. While
many
of
my
classmates
had
names
like
Sa「研习更多 生肖属相合婚常识请关注 :姻缘网,WWw.imYInyUAn.Com〗rah
or
Michael,
my
name
stood
out
as
something
different
and
exotic.
Some
kids
would
even
ask
me
to
say
it
over
and
over
again,
marveling
at
the
way
it
rolled
off
my
tongue.
I
felt
proud
to
have
a
special
name
that
set
me
apart
from
everyone
else.
At
the
same
time,
though,
I
remember
feeling
out
of
place
when
I
would
visit
family
in
China.
There,
my
name
was
just
like
everyone
else's,
and
I
couldn't
help
but
feel
like
an
outsider. As
I've
grown
older,
I've
come
to
appreciate
the
uniqueness
of
my
name
even
more.
It's
a
constant
reminder
of
my
heritage
and
the
culture
that
my
parents
worked
so
hard
to
pass
down
to
me.
At
the
same
time,
I've
also
come
to
recognize
that
my
name
is
just
one
piece
of
a
much
larger
identity
puzzle.
As
a
Chinese-American,
I
often
feel
like
I'm
straddling
two
worlds
–
my
family's
traditions
and
values,
and
the
culture
that
surrounds
me
in
America. Sometimes
it
can
be
difficult
to
navigate
those
two
worlds,
but
ultimately
I
feel
lucky
to
have
a
foot
in
both.
My
name
may
be
Xiaoxue,
but
I
am
also
a
daughter,
a
sister,
a
friend,
and
so
much
more.
My
name
is
just
one
part
of
my
identity,
and
I'm
grateful
for
all
the
different
pieces
that
make
me
who
I
am.