Have you ever wonder ‘What makes you who you are?’ and ‘What are the factors that help to define who you are?’
Well, that is what we have been discussed and studied about. Each person in this world has different personalities, thoughts, ideas, stories, and Identity. But the interesting part is how did those personalities develop in each of us? Is it all comes from those genes that we inherit from our parents? Is it from the environment around us? Or Is it our choice to become who we want to be?
A big part of Identity is our names, the word that we live on with our entire life. I believe names can have an impact on people and their personality. To further dig into this topic, I have written a writing piece that explains how my name has left an impact and identity to my life. It is inspired by a beautiful writing piece from the book The House on Mango Street. (If you want to see the explanation of my name, you can read it in About Me Category)
Besides Name, The Place and the Origin that each of us comes from plays a huge role in who we are and the person that we became. We have stories to tell, opinions to give and memories to treasure. Those are all from the place that we come from. So, Where are you from and Where am I from?
Here is a poem that I wrote about my Identity and where I am from. It is inspired by a poem by George Ella Lyon. (The structure is also from Lyon’s Writing)
Angely
Hannah
Literacy Essential
Where I’m From
I’m from screws and nails, from frying pans and sunflower oil.
I’m from the swings and toys that laid next to the sweet small house, the most vivid memory of my childhood.
I ’m from the green leaves that made those oily potions.
The river tamarind trees whose seeds I can still taste on my tongue.
I’m from the sticky rice cakes made during Phchum Ben and the white shirts and silk skirts in pagodas, from my mom and grandma.
I’m from the sweat that drops down my grandfather’s neck and the neighbor’s old bike that gave me that scar on my left ankle.
I’m from the quick-moving hands my mother has when she sews and gives the grade to her students.
I’m from write with your right hand! And Where’s your book? And those old songs my mother put…
I’m from the hard-working days and endless efforts in those farming fields
I’m from the dolphin province, and the warm, welcoming village
I’m from the sweet egg drink and dried, salty cucumbers
I’m from the brave people on the wall of my grandmother’s house, whose faces are identical to my mom.
I’m from the tale of my grandfather’s bravery whose name became part of mine and face I only remember from an old picture.
The legs my family run for their lives_
The wishes they prayed for the chance to live
The big wooden house which their souls still linger on
The farm that my grandfather had always treasured
And all of the others buried memories
I’m from every moment of those people before me, the seed that falls from great history. This is me.