I was eleven when I moved to the United States. Less than a week after my move to Boston, I set foot into a middle school. Now, I was so new to American culture that I was still measuring weight in kilos and trying to figure out who (dare I say) Tom Brady was. Despite the initial bumps, I eventually made friends, tried my first blissful bite of the American cheeseburger, and basked in the glory of a culture that embraces all cultures. Above all else, I came to love the emphasis on individualism inherent in American life.

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The concept of freedom has a special significance for my family. We were born into a society where individual freedom is elusive at best. There were always customs, people, and odd consequences to worry about. To make matters worse, my parents only had two daughters. When they contently decided they wanted no more children, neighbors, strangers, and even educated gynecologists seemed concerned about how their name would live on without a son to guard it. My parents realized that although their daughters would have many comforts, they would never have the simple luxury of exploring their potential on their terms. So they decided to leave the country they once called home.

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My family's pursuit of greater freedom made us American even before we moved to the United States. I completed my twelfth year as an American this year, and I am so grateful that I can chase my dreams freely every day. It's the simplest but most important luxury I have access to. And I strive to live every day with integrity, compassion, and ambitiousness to make the most of this luxury.

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