My mom is Japanese and my dad is white.

When they married, they made a pact that they would one day let their future kids

experience Japan in some way.

And that's exactly how I ended up moving to Japan and living there from when I was

four until I was seven years old.

For anyone that's ever had to move, you know how scary it can be.

And when you're only four and going to a completely different country with a

completely different language and completely different people, it's terrifying.

From the get-go, I was thrown into school and honestly, despite everything I thought,

it wasn't as bad as I expected.

Since I was so young, I picked up on Japanese quick and I made a lot of friends.

Everything was going great.

One day, I was leaving the classroom to go to recess and in the hallway window, there

was a classmate outside knocking on the window, chanting at me, singing

Yaseppochi no Gaikokujin, which in Japanese basically means skinny foreigner.

I didn't really think about it too much.

This started to happen every day, however, and day after day, she was there at the

window chanting Yaseppochi no Gaikokujin, Yaseppochi no Gaikokujin.

She stood there at the window with a super unsettling smile.

It was honestly super sinister, like something out of a horror movie.

I mean, if you just added a knife in there, it probably could have been a box office hit.

Eventually, it really started to get to me and agonize me.

This was the first moment I think I started to realize I wasn't like everyone else.

And it made me feel out of place, like I was some sort of alien.

Obviously, I didn't care about her calling me skinny.

I think I was seven at the time, you know, I wasn't really hitting the gym.

It was just the fact that she had the audacity to call me a foreigner.

I was no longer like all my other classmates, and I imagined myself as this white,

pasty kid.

I did what I knew I should, and I told my teacher what was happening, and then he

went on to set aside time in class one day and tell everyone that I wasn't any

different and that I wasn't to be called a foreigner.

The girl never got in trouble, though, because she denied ever doing it, and I guess

they couldn't do anything about it because of that.

Yeah, that kinda sucked.

If we're being honest, I think she was low-key the devil in disguise.

Aside from that, though, it was awesome to have the support of my teacher and to

understand that even though I might not have the same background as everyone else,

it didn't make me any less of a person.

From then on, I've had countless experiences of being categorized as a foreigner, but

thanks to what happened in Japan, I've been able to feel more comfortable in my

skin.

Upon moving back to the U.S., things ended up crossing over.

I got made fun of for being Asian.

But you know, guys, the moral of the story is that no matter what ethnicity you are or

where you come from, just understand that you're unique, and you should treat

everyone the way you want to be treated yourself.

I know that's a cliché, okay, but it's cliché because it's true.