With a mixture of apprehension and anticipation, I made a last minute decision to fly home for 24-hours to attend my  high school reunion. (“I already made you a name tag!” Julie lobbied.) My decision surprised everyone, including myself. “I thought you didn’t like high school?” True, I graduated and never looked back. I borrowed frequent flyer miles and had to fly back (to MA) the next morning, but those four hours changed my life.

The occasion was surreal. Except for a couple of girlfriends, I had not seen anyone for decades. Most arrived with their spouses or friends; I went solo. Many of the guys who were hot were not anymore. The geeks turned into hunks and I hardly recognized others. My small circle of girlfriends looked radiant with their partners; single and married guys flirted with me and I found common ground with classmates I barely knew. Later that evening, I overheard one of the guys whisper, “When did Natalie get so hot??” That made my evening. Actually, it made my year. I had finally come full circle and been redeemed for all those dateless pre-college years!

Maybe it wasn’t so much high school that I disliked. Maybe it was me who I disliked. The environment was different and I was different inside. Before Asian models were popular and Asian food became trendy, my family was the only source of positive reinforcement. I didn’t fit most Asian stereotypes, e.g. being good at math or science (I had to receive tutoring), being quiet or reticent (one teacher complained that I “asked too many questions”), non-controversial (I led a workers protest at Pizzaria Uno’s) or lady-like (I loved competitive sports and owned a BB-gun). I felt like one big five-foot-tall walking paradox!

Many high school classmates had known me since first grade and were as friendly as you could expect teens to be in a peer-pressurized culture. Thanks to a small group of sweet girlfriends who looked beyond the “color and coolness” lines, I was included in many social activities. Since then, my looks or interests haven’t changed that much. What has changed was inside of me – more confidence, more passion and acceptance – for who I was and wanted to become.

If you have the opportunity to go back to reunion and you didn’t like high school either, you might re-consider. Not only was it the best night of my year, it was the healing and closure I needed to look back through a new lens and to move forward with confidence.

All I wanted was to fit in, to be “all-American,” to be blond and buxom and popular. Like many other girls, I could relate to Margaret in Judy Blume books. I wore blush to liven up my hopelessly pale cheeks and desperately curled and permed my flat, straight-as-an-arrow hair. I wore a bra even though I really didn’t need one and I didn’t get eyeglasses when I really did need them. I tried not to speak Chinese in public. To no surprise, I wasn’t very successful at being un-Chinese. Seeing old pictures, I did succeed in looking like a Chinese Cocker Spaniel.

Given the popularity of Asian fashion and food today, it’s hard to imagine the stark contrast and homogeneity of our world back then. And kids and teenagers were, well, kids and teenagers. So even though I spoke with a Southern drawl, loved chicken potpies and wore Nikes, I still stuck out like a “foreigner.” Folks complimented me on my English, asked me where I was really from when I said I was born in Atlanta and one time, I was called to the principal’s office to help translate for a Japanese visitor.

The ugly stuff – name calling, taunting, mostly from strangers—scarred me. Later, as an adult, I still held my breath when a school bus or joyriding teenagers drove by. As I became an adult, the comments gradually shifted from ‘chink” to “foxy Oriental lady” so who says things haven’t changed? Racism or sexism, take your pick! Fortunately, most of my classmates knew me from first grade, I had compassionate teachers, a circle of smart, sweet girlfriends and a few ponytail-pulling jock friends.

As the only Asian kid in school, everyone thought I was “good at math” and “cute like a Chinadoll.” Not a bad thing, except that I excelled in Language Arts and Social Studies, almost blew up the chemistry lab and had a penchant for competitive sports. I did not inherit my father’s engineering mind or the whiz kid genes and tortured my way through Calculus and Trig. Breaking another stereotype, I also asked a guy to the junior prom. I was turned down, but went anyway with a 25 year-old stud from Venezuela—friend of the family.

I made straight A’s, NHS and Who’s Who but never had a date or a kiss before college! My fantasy was to have someone “have a crush on me” or “to go (steady) with a boy.” (When I told my mom, she asked, “Go where?”) For better or worse, I had to wait until college…

The ugly stuff – name calling, taunting, mostly from strangers—traumatized me, from pre-school to high school. I never understood the “kids will be kids” justification. I still cringe when a school bus full of kids or a carload of joyriding teenagers drive by.

As the only Asian kid in school, everyone thought I was “good at math” and “cute like a chinadoll.” Actually, I loved Language Arts and Social Studies and had a penchant for competitive sports. I had a circle of smart girlfriends and a few guy friends, either geeks or jock pony-tail pullers. One advantage to not belonging to any circle was that I had a diverse range of friends. I was turned down by a sophomore to the junior prom. (I went anyway with my brother in-law’s younger brother, a studly, 25 year-old Latino from Venezuela!)

But no boyfriends. I never got asked out on a date or had a kiss before college! My fantasy was to have someone “have a crush on me” or “to go (steady) with a boy.” (When I told my mom the latter, she asked, “Go where?”) For better or worse, I had to wait.