I've been living the typical Asian Immigrant in America trope. Y'know, get good grades, become an engineer, doctor, or whatever profession that makes that $$$, and become happy. The American Dream, whoop-dee-doo.
I've always wanted to please my parents, and it seemed like that was what they wanted from me. So I decided that I was going into the profession of Aerospace Engineering, since I like space. And that's what I worked for throughout my primary school years.
But I was pretty much born drawing and writing fiction. Those two things were second nature for me, I'd do them without intending to or realizing it. If I was going to make a career out of anything, it would be those things. Except these things aren't seen as viable careers in my culture.
So those two desires pushed against each other in my heart for as far as I can remember. Eventually I realized that I wasn't really interested in engineering. When I was drawing concepts for spacecraft when I was a kid, it wasn't the engineering behind it that I was trying to explore; it was the concept of space travel, the visual design of the ship, and the stories I could tell with it.
As I grew older, I started to talk about my true feelings more and more with my parents. I told them I wanted to become a filmmaker and animator; that I had grand ideas for stories, complete with characters and sketches for the world. We would always struggle with money, and they were adamant about me staying on course for a stable, well-paying job as an engineer. I distinctly remember what they always say: "Get the stable income first, then you can do what you want."
I got into a university known for its competitive engineering program. Good grades, great school, parents' pride obtained. Seemed like the course was set; my life's path was paved, I can see it all coming together in front of me.
So imagine my parents' shock when, after one year with the engineering program, I dropped out of it and went into shudder creative writing.
I'm finishing up my senior year now. I honestly don't know if I made the right choice. I stepped from a path with a clear view, into one completely covered in fog. And despite the absolute joy of the classes I've taken, the peers and professors I've had the total pleasure of meeting, and the invaluable things I've learned, there's that part of me that says, "you should've just stuck with engineering."
But if there's one thing I can lean on for support, it is my parents. They've told me that at first they were struck with anxiety. But I've gotten close with them, now that I'm older and can talk to them as adults. They've had their own gripes and struggles with this culture we're all a part of. It didn't seem like it to me during my childhood, but they were always fully aware of my artistic and storytelling passions. Becoming a filmmaker or artist requires financial support; they always come from well-off families. My parents were just regretful that they couldn't provide me the financial support I needed to make my dreams into a reality.
A few weeks ago, my mom called me. Said I should apply to film and animation school after graduating; do what I really want. Said she and my dad will support me all the way, even when the money runs dry. I teared up after the call ended.
My anxiety is at a peak with how uncertain my future's going to be. I'm hyper-aware of the stigma that comes with me trying to make my stories into a career. But at least I have the approval and support of my parents. And with that, a tiny part of that dense fog has been lifted.