Identity, Responsibilities, and Separation

Identity, Responsibilities, and Separation. Presented by Mitwele Mukoma.

Firstly, I put my faith first because it guides every part of my life. My friendship with Jehovah is something I value more than anything else, and it shapes the way I think, the choices I make, and the person I’m trying to become. Even though I have so much faith in him, there are moments when my faith feels shaken. Life gets heavy, doubts, and suffering, and sometimes I feel like giving up. But even in those moments, I never forget who I am. I keep turning back to Jehovah because He and my family have never stopped being patient with me. My faith isn’t perfect, but I try to make it up to God. After all, he has always helped me take up my responsibility into becoming and a good daughter to my parents, and because of him, I learned to take responsibility at a very young age because my family expected a lot from me. Their hopes, their sacrifices, and their belief in me became the foundation of my identity. They are the only reason I keep moving forward, even when life feels overwhelming. Adjusting to a new place, a place where the language, culture, and expectations were unfamiliar, was not easy. But we were not forced to move; we moved because we believed in the possibility of something better. We moved for better opportunities, for education, for a future that did not exist where we came from.

Furthermore, the larger social value behind my ordinary rule: the belief that children carry the weight of their family’s past and the hope for its future. In my culture, this value is tied to gratitude, respect, and the idea that success is a collective achievement and can sometimes burden a person’s identity. This is what I want others to understand about who I am and where I come from. The rule to make my parents proud is not just a personal habit; it is a reflection of a larger cultural belief that family is everything to me. It explains why I work the way I do, why I push myself, and why I carry my parents’ dreams with me. It is an ordinary practice that reveals the deeper values of my community and the idea that one day I will achieve those dreams my parents had. Moving to the United States changed everything for me. I didn’t want to leave. My entire childhood was back home, my friends, my cousins, the people who felt like my own family, and the language I spoke every day. When we moved, it felt like my whole world disappeared overnight. But I had no choice. My family was going, so I had to go too. We were already living in a country that wasn’t truly ours because our real home had been destroyed by war. Coming here meant starting over from nothing. I had to rebuild my life piece by piece—learn a new language, adjust to a completely different environment, make new friends, and somehow make this place feel like home. Starting high school was one of the hardest parts. Everything felt strange. Students here had technology everywhere, computers, phones, and resources I had never used before. Back home, all I had was a pencil and one notebook. Suddenly, I had to learn how to use a computer, how to use a phone, how to navigate a world that moved much faster than the one I came from. And I didn’t just have to learn for myself. I had to learn for my parents too. I became the one who taught them how to use their phones, how to use a computer, how to pay bills, how to make doctor’s appointments, and how to speak a little English. I became the person they depended on for everything. I learned responsibility at an age when most kids were still being taken care of. The truth is, nursing was never my dream. I always wanted to be an engineer. I’ve had a passion for engineering for as long as I can remember. But I chose a different path because my family needed me to. My dad wanted to be a doctor, but war took that dream away from him. So I decided to carry the dream he couldn’t finish. I chose the path that would help people, the path that would honor my father’s dreams..

Even now, the expectations continue. My parents expect me to be home every day by 8. They want me close, safe, responsible. But sometimes I just want to hang out with my friends, to feel like a normal young person, to have a little freedom. Balancing who I am with who I’m expected to be is one of the hardest parts of my life. Through every change in my life, one thing stayed constant: The unspoken rule was simple: be a good daughter, no matter what. Honor my parents. Be grateful. Make them proud through my actions and success. The rule that follows me every day is the unspoken belief that children also have responsibilities towards parents. These responsibilities include sacrificing, respecting them, and learning to accept that they have shortcomings as parents. With that, I learned to choose my own path between what I want and what I owe, reminding me that my dreams don’t belong to me alone. Every achievement I have in my life is a reminder to me that my accomplishments are never mine alone; they belong to the people who raised me, the ones who set aside their own dreams so I could chase mine. This rule lives in me because of the cultural values I was raised with, values shaped by respect, duty, and survival. Growing up in an African family, I learned early that a child should always make their parents proud. That expectation became a kind of authority that felt both loving and heavy at the same time. My parents never enforced it through punishment; instead, they taught it through stories of their struggles, reminders of everything they endured, and the quiet belief that I must rise, succeed, and carry our family forward..

Mitwele Mukoma English writing 1311.05 Bonnie Roos 02/09/2026 Thank you.