Some social norms are for the good of the whole community (don't reheat smelly foods, like fish, in the public microwave; don't stand so close to someone that they can smell what you ate for lunch), while others are more culturally variable. And so the clashes begin. America is a supposed “melting pot,” yet not everyone has melted. There are communities in the U.S. known as Little Indias, Little Italys, Japantowns, and Chinatowns that hold fast to their native traditions. Asian cultures demand that children work their hardest to reach their full potential in academics. The French ritually eat leisurely meals together as a family. In America, the importance of sports and “to-go” convenience dominate everyday life. One prominent difference between cultures is food. I'm lucky to have been exposed to the delectable flavors of Asia as well as hearty American food, and Asian dishes have won my heart. I love the textures, flavors, smells, and sights. But not everyone shares my enthusiasm.

A few years ago my mother would get up early each day to ensure that my siblings and I would each have a homemade lunch to take to school. It could be stir-fry, soup, or even hot pot. I always relished these lunches, but never realized how much love she put into them.

I remember one day I brought a Thermos of soup she'd made with crushed tomatoes, eggs, beef, and spring onions. Asian food in general has strong, distinct smells; however, this dish was actually a combination of common American items.

I was halfway through the meal when a girl at my table made a face and said, “What's that smell?” The rest of the table, in a junior-high mob-mentality, agreed and made faces too. I tried to explain, then settled for “It's like tomato soup.” The girl replied, “Not like any tomato soup I've ever seen.”

After that I felt pressure to conform, so I'd ask my mom to make me American lunches – sandwiches, spaghetti, even leftovers. I didn't like this food as much, but the critiques subsided.

No one had actually said, “Audrey, you should bring more ‘normal' food for lunch,” but it was implied in their gestures and expressions. So for a few years, I adopted the mentality that being the same (as far as my food, at least) was a good thing.

It wasn't until recently that I broke out of this conformity. I wasn't afraid anymore. I realized the opinions of my critical peers didn't matter. I felt that my culture should be celebrated, not hidden. When people asked questions about my lunches, I was more open to answering them.

What caused this change? One reason was the transition to high school; not only was the student body more diverse, but people were more respectful of differences. Those who found something unfavorable were more apt to keep their mouths shut. Also, my love of cooking had blossomed, and I prepared my own lunches, which I'm sure my mom didn't mind.

My cooking isn't limited to non-Asian foods. Connecting to my culture is important to me, especially since I don't speak my parents' native language very well. The final reason was my brother. He had, for the longest time, struggled to be comfortable with his race and culture. He'd try to ignore it and was just plain uneasy about it. I made a decision that I didn't want to be suffer like that. I saw how torturous it was, and I have a little sister who looks up to me.

I grew up because of this. Even if I had a chance to go back and change the years I felt insecure about my lunch and culture, I would not. Now I know that home-cooked meals are too delicious to pass up.