Ever since I was a child, I’ve stared up at the sky and wondered: what’s up there? Why do people talk about stars all the time, when all I see is nothing? Only flashing lights were visible, which became a disappointment quickly as I realized they were from a distant plane. I longed for the day when those stars would finally appear, when I would finally see constellations in the sky, and perhaps travel to a star.

The lack of stars was a result of living close to the city; the skyscrapers of New York emitted too much light for the stars to shine through. I never liked the city. It was too crowded, the streets stank from the sewers, and the traffic was unbelievable. But still, our family would make monthly trips to Chinatown because we needed to “connect with our people” as my mother put it. That, combined with the lack of Chinese groceries in our area, drove us to the city.

Usually, we would just buy a lot of produce, and haul it back home. It was especially fun during the summer, when we had to carry 20-pound bags to the car located about ten blocks away, all in 90 degree heat. Well, “we” as in the adults anyway. I wasn’t allowed to carry bags because I was too young and my parents believed that carrying heavy things would stunt growth.

I remember protesting about it every single time.

“Mommy! Why can’t I carry something? I wanna help!”

The response was always the same. .

“No! You can’t because you won’t grow! You’ll be short like me when you grow up. Let mama and papa do it” she would scold in Cantonese.

Bags or no bags, it didn't matter anyway. It wouldn’t have affected my height at all, as I learned later. Growth was mainly dependent on genetic factors, not old and unproven beliefs.

After realizing this, I took as many bags as I could. Not because I wanted to, but just because I knew it wouldn’t harm me. I didn’t understand how anyone came up with such ideas, how it corrupted whole generations of people. How did they accept these ideas with no questions, no minds of their own?

As I grew older, my fascination with space deepened. The endless stretches of empty space, the colorful bursts from dying stars, the deep pits of a hole that not even light can escape. It was surreal to me how beings as insignificant as us were able to discover so much. Despite my inability to see stars, I was content with what I could see- the sun and the moon. I researched, believed everything I heard, took up every fact I found, and saved it in a place for the future.

My parents weren’t exactly supportive of my interest in astronomy.

“What do you think is up there? You can’t do anything in space.”

“Are you looking for space cows again? They don’t exist! Stop wasting your time.”

“Mars? You want to go to mars? That’s a death sentence!”

Instead, it was the traditional, well-paid jobs they forced my attention to, always trying to guilt me into agreeing with their career choices. As expected of Chinese parents.

“Why not be a doctor? Or a lawyer? A dentist? You need to make us proud!”
“We came to America for you! You want to be poor again, huh?”

Yes, America, the land of the free. That’s exactly where we are. So, with that principle in mind, I continued my studies of space. My mother didn’t like it, not at all, but it was the dream that I held on to. It was the one and only idea that I didn’t question.

By the time I was in high school, I was completely fixated on becoming an astronomer, maybe even be one of the people who colonized mars. NASA had stated that we would be orbiting mars in another ten years, which was sufficient time for me to go to college and obtain a degree in a science, and gain experience to become an astronaut. The potential involvement on a national level, in a life changing mission not just for America, but the whole of humanity, drew me to astronauts over being an astronomer on earth. Someday, it may be possible to travel across galaxies! It will all start with mars.

When I enrolled in my school’s astronomy class in sophomore year, my mother found out, despite my attempts to keep it a secret. She was adamant about me dropping the class, pestering me about it like a fly hovering around a dead carcass. One day, she interrupted me while I was finishing an assignment for the class.

“Why must you continue to study space? It’s useless! I don’t know a single successful American who watches space cows!” she complained.

“Because you haven’t looked hard enough. There’s plenty of people who look for space cows, and they find them!”

My mouth tasted bitter as I said “space cows” in Cantonese. It was a phrase she had used as an insult countless times.

Mother looked furious. She stared at me with black eyes, and said for the first time “I will not pay for college if you don’t stop this space nonsense.”

I glared back at her, and opened my mouth to pull the final straw.

“Fine. I’ll take a student loan. I don’t need your money.”

She froze and stared at me for what seemed like an eternity. With a huff, she finally stormed out of my room, shaking and swearing in our language.

I still remember how her eyes looked that day. Just like the dark, empty night sky that I stared at all those years ago, dreaming of finally seeing a star.

Within a few years, my relationship with my mother had deteriorated into nothing. I remained friendly with my father, who understood my determination to study space and go to mars. He didn’t fully support my decision, nor my defiance to mother, however, he valued my happiness over everything else. Father still wanted us both to be happy, but the ideas he obtained from the states clashed harshly with the ones mother kept from another country.

After I graduated from high school, mother kept her word about paying for college. She refused to give me a cent, and would not let father help financially either. I guess some American values did rub off on her.

So what did I do? I went to community college. While the rest of my extensive Chinese family ridiculed me for it (studying space and going to community college? What a disgrace!), it was the best option in terms of price. The astronomy program wasn’t the best, but I was glad that it was offered there. I worked diligently, and ended up at the top of my class by sophomore year.

My efforts paid off, to my entire family’s surprise. I applied as a transfer student to several top universities, expecting to be rejected easily, as I was below their score ranges. One of them accepted me, and gave me a scholarship which cut costs dramatically, allowing me to enter. It was the chance that I needed to prove myself. I was still expected to take more student loans, of course. Mother was still against astronomy and my desire to go to mars, but I didn’t care about what she thought at that point. All I wanted was to achieve this dream of mine, because the opportunities offered in America were more than enough for it.

The shock of being accepted wore off quickly as I found out how rigorous a top college was. I… couldn’t keep up. The workload and the intensity of competition crushed me. It was like I was in quicksand- slowly sinking, just waiting to hit the bottom. Finally, it became too much.

The next thing I knew, I had dropped out of college. I had tens of thousands of dollars in debt. I had nowhere to live. I had been shunned by my family: “I told you so! Look where watching space cows has brought you now, huh?”

But through it, my dream of becoming an astronaut, of going to mars… I still held on to it. It might’ve been utterly impossible from the beginning. The ideas my parents didn’t question- the ones that I questioned too much- they’ve led me to wonder, did I have a mind of my own? Was I another victim to other’s ideas and beliefs? As a dreaming American, I can’t say for certain. What I do know is that I don’t regret having a dream.

Now, as I watch the moonless, starry sky, I realize that I still belong. Here, in America.