The Loss of My Culture

Growing up in America, I faced the burden that is losing my culture.
I lost my culture when I stopped calling my mother in public, because I didn't want people to stare as foreign words slipped from my tongue. 
I lost my culture when I began saying nothing while people claimed they "could never visit a dangerous place" like the one my family is from. 
I lost my culture when I was no longer proud of the curls that sprung from my head after I showered. 
I lost my culture when I began sitting silently as people mocked the accents of immigrants, people that gave up everything to come here. 
I lost my culture when I no longer followed the religious traditions that I had once held so closely to my heart. 

These were the first signals of losing my culture.
I didn't think it mattered; it seemed much better to fit in as an American than to fit in with a culture that no longer surrounded me.
In a twist of events, it did matter. 
It mattered because I was giving up my identity in order to fit into a world that I know I belong in, regardless of my culture.
It mattered because I was washing away my heritage to blend in, when I should've been using it to stand out.
It mattered because once I realized that this wasn't worth losing my culture, it was hard to gain back.

This is the process of losing your culture.
Do not fear, it happens to all of us. You will get it back.
But when people like me are in a world like this, we always lose our culture.