It happened all throughout my sophomore and junior years, until Cindy graduated from high school. One guy actually kept insisting that my name was Cindy, and I was trying to fool him into believing I was someone else. I eventually pulled out my student ID and pointed to the name underneath my picture. He still wasn't convinced, saying that I had someone in the graphic arts class make me a fake ID. Maybe he wasn't wearing his glasses. Maybe it was a clever pick-up line to him. Or maybe I have an amorphous face. Whatever the case, it was deeply frustrating. No matter what I said, I could not convince him that my name was not Cindy.

This happened all throughout high school. People either mistook me for Cindy or for her little sister. Even some friends thought I was Cindy's little sister when I first met them.

I finally met Cindy at the end of my junior year. I was expecting a mirror image. To my surprise, she and I only have a slight resemblance when we both wore our glasses. It was nothing striking. In fact, the only similarity between our facial characteristics was that we are both Asian.

The problem of mistaken identity has not been confined to high school. It has happened numerous times here at Penn State. I am tired of being mistaken for every other Asian girl on this campus.

Last semester, random people have approached me and started conversations only to have me stare confusedly at them until realized they had the wrong Asian person. Acquaintances have even called me names of other Asian girls they know. Contrary to popular belief, not all Asians look the same.

Asians may all look the same to some people, but we really are distinct. How would you like to be constantly likened to someone in your race who doesn't look like you? I know all of us have probably been mistaken for someone else or have been called another name, but it is very tiring to have it happen every other day.

I must admit, though, that appearances are deceiving. Just as I am mistaken for other Asians, I am also wrongly mistaken for an ethnic group completely different from my own. Just because I am Asian does not mean that I am Chinese. It seems like no matter how I classify myself, people at Penn State will always identify me as Chinese. While Chinese-Americans have a rich culture, it is not mine. I am Filipino-American and my ethnicity is a central part of my identity. In other words, don't ask me if my mom cooks Chinese food if I've already told you that I am Filipino.

While I'm on a roll, let's get another thing straight. My slanted eyes and dark hair do not qualify me as a mathematical genius. The first day of math class was always the worst for me, from elementary all the way to college. Teachers would automatically ask me deliberately hard questions, expecting a quick and correct answer. They were almost always disappointed. They wouldn't say it aloud, but their eyes betrayed what they were thinking, "Why is this Asian girl such a dunce at math?"

The concept that Asian-Americans are stellar math students has plagued me since first grade, when I felt like I was the worst person in the world because I couldn't do a simple addition problem. Notes that my teachers wrote on my progress reports were subtle signs that they believed I was holding back natural talent. "We know Patricia is shy, but it may become a problem if she doesn't show her true abilities." The problem lay with their stereotype that all Asian-Americans are mathematically and scientifically inclined, not with my bumbling arithmetic skills.

Finally, please do not refer to me as Oriental. Rugs are oriental. Food is oriental. My ancestors are from the Orient. But seeing that I am neither a rug nor a food, I am not Oriental. Many Asian-Americans find it offensive to be called Orientals.

I'm not complaining, just trying to bring awareness to this problem. We should all do our part to foster understanding and acceptance on this campus. We can start by listening to each other and respecting each other's culture and background.