I moved to Mesquite, Texas from Seoul, Korea in 1976 when I was ten years old. My parents chose Texas because my uncles had already settled there. From the start, growing up in Texas as the only Asian in school wasn’t easy. I felt different, and not in a good way.
This post is about what it was like to grow up feeling like I didn’t belong—and how those early experiences shaped how I saw myself.
Adjusting to Life in Mesquite, Texas
Growing up in a small Texas town felt like stepping into another world. Everything was spread out—no subways, no street vendors, and barely anyone who looked like us. The quiet streets and wide-open spaces were nothing like the busy neighborhoods I remembered in Korea.
People stared at us everywhere we went—at the grocery store, the gas station, or just walking around the block. Some were polite, but others looked at us like we didn’t belong. I felt self-conscious all the time.
Everyday life came with challenges. We learned how to use unfamiliar appliances, shop in huge supermarkets, and navigate a town built for cars. My parents struggled with the language, and I often watched them try to ask questions or fill out simple forms, doing their best to get by.
There were very few Korean families nearby, and we had almost no access to Korean food or stores. We missed the flavors, the language, and the daily routines that made us feel grounded.
Growing up as Asians in Texas meant constantly adjusting, constantly learning—and often feeling very far from the world we once knew.
What It Felt Like Being the Only Asian in School
School was where I felt the most out of place. From the moment I walked in, I knew I stood out. I didn’t see anyone who looked like me, and I felt that difference every single day. I was quiet, not because I wanted to be, but because I didn’t know how to respond to the stares, the whispers, or the questions.
Kids asked why my eyes were small or where I was really from. Some thought it was funny to mimic my accent or laugh at my lunch. Others just ignored me altogether. I wasn’t bullied to the point of physical harm, but the teasing and constant reminders that I was “different” stuck with me.
Growing up as the only Asian in a Texas school made it hard to feel confident. I didn’t want to stand out, but blending in wasn’t an option either. So, I kept my head down and hoped to go unnoticed. I stopped bringing Korean food, spoke as little as possible, and slowly tried to disappear.
Those years of growing up in Texas shaped how I saw myself—not as someone unique, but as someone who needed to hide who she was.
Growing Up as Asian in Texas
When we moved to Richardson in junior high school, I thought things might get better. It was a slightly bigger city, and I hoped for more diversity. But the feeling of being different followed me. Even in high school, which was a large school, there were only two other Asian students besides me and my siblings.
It was the same stares. The same questions. The same jokes. It felt like no matter where we went in Texas, we were always “the Asians.” Not individuals with names and stories—just different.
Some people were friendly, but it always felt like they were curious about me, not truly interested in me. I often wondered what it would be like to just blend in for once—to be seen as normal. But growing up as Asian in Texas meant constantly being aware of how I stood out.
I never told anyone how it really made me feel. I didn’t want to sound dramatic or ungrateful. But deep down, I was tired of feeling like I had to explain myself all the time.
Facing Racism as an Asian in Texas
The racism I experienced growing up Asian in Texas didn’t always show up in loud or obvious ways—but it was there. No one beat us up or shouted slurs, but people still targeted us with quiet, hurtful actions that left lasting scars.
Our mailbox was knocked down more than once, and we had no idea who did it. Sometimes kids would ring our doorbell late at night and run away, over and over, like it was a game. Maybe it was just “pranks” to them—but to us, it felt like a message: you don’t belong here.
We were cautious about everything. My parents didn’t speak up because they didn’t want to cause trouble. And we just learned to stay quiet, even when things felt unfair. That kind of racism doesn’t always make the news, but it chips away at your sense of safety and confidence over time.
Growing up as Asian in Texas meant I was always aware of my place—and how quickly others could turn me into a target.
Why I Left Texas
After graduating from the University of Texas at Austin, I didn’t leave right away because of any dramatic reason—I just felt ready for something new. I wanted a change of scenery, a different pace, and maybe a place where I could feel more at ease in my own skin.
Moving to California gave me that—but not completely. I met people from all walks of life and felt less like I was always being watched. But even there, I didn’t fully stop feeling different. The memories of growing up Asian in Texas stayed with me.
After I left, I finally saw how much those years had shaped me. The quiet racism had left a mark. The pressure to fit in wore me down. I had spent years hiding parts of myself without even realizing it.
I didn’t leave Texas out of anger. An opportunity came up, and I took it. Leaving Texas gave me the chance to explore other places, and along the way, I experienced some amazing things I never could have imagined.
What Growing Up Asian in Texas Taught Me
I used to think I had to move on from my past to move forward. But I’ve realized that growing up in Texas as an Asian kid in school will always be a part of me—both the hard and the meaningful parts. I’m still unpacking what it all meant and the role it played in who I’ve become.
I may never fully make sense of it, and that’s okay. What matters now is that I can name it. I can talk about it. And by sharing it, maybe someone else out there will feel a little less alone in their own story.
