One who is Fortunate

Iqbal: one who is fortunate. Growing up I always dreaded the awkward moment when my name was called for attendance. On the first day of middle school my 6th grade English teacher, Mrs. Chumbris said, “I apologize if I mispronounce anyone’s name.” Feeling that was directed towards me, my stomach churned and my heart raced as she called names. “Garret?” “Here!” “Howard?” “Present!” “Umm…Ick-ball?” I heard giggles. My face was burning. I raised my hand next to my head too humiliated to raise it any higher. Ashamed that my name was different from others I turned towards my American world and pushed away and began to resent my Pakistani world. I turned to my “American” ways, becoming bold and opinionated. Whenever I would bring this attitude home, my parents grew more and more concerned that I was becoming too “Americanized” My parents feared that I would never recognize my native culture. These constant battles with my identity lead my parents to desperate measures; they decided I would spend my summers in Pakistan for two months, unlike my American friends who would spend their summers at sleep away camp.

In summer I would spend my time at my grand parent’s home in Islamabad, Pakistan. In Pakistan I became more cultured and proud of whom I was. I never truly felt pride for my ethnicity because I grew up in the United States, but that summer was literally world changing. My two worlds were now combined.