Digital Story: My heritage and me

Website architecture:
Links arranged in a circular format around the link to my digital story
Links to family pictures
Links to pictures that reveal things about myself
Links to resume or an about me page
Links to interesting things about me
Design based on fusion of Indian and Chinese elements, possibly including Mandarin characters and Hindi writing.
Possibly the countries in the background with some transparency, so you can see the links in front. Also, the US.
Corresponding Indian/Chinese proverbs

Narrative Script:

My earliest memories have always been tainted by the color of my skin, the shape of my face, and the curiosity of humankind. I can’t remember a time when someone hasn’t asked me “what are you?” I’ve been trying to figure out the answer for years, but usually I reveal my ethnicity: Chinese and Indian. I’ve become well-acquainted with the raised eyebrow and commentary about my “interesting mix.” Most people though don’t really know how my mixed heritage has shaped my identity. I suppose I wasn’t quite sure myself. At times, I tried to combat common stereotypes with a distinctive personality contrary to any expectation. But as I molded my identity into an entity separate from my heritage, I found it difficult to embrace both simultaneously. I was myself and I was Chinese and Indian, but never really at the same time. At family reunions, I would glean what conversational insight I could from foreign words and broken English. As my ears failed me, my eyes invariably turned to the slippery grains of rice sliding off the unfamiliar sticks and escaping my tired mouth. Unfortunately, my cultural inadequacies didn’t disappear nearly as fast as my grandmother’s renowned dumplings. I would spend every Saturday as a sixth grader struggling to catch up with toddlers at a Chinese language school while my father tried in vain to teach me Bengali at home. The only words that I ended up remembering were “kub valo mae,” which translates to “very good daughter.” My linguistic inadequacies paralleled my struggle in abacus classes, piano lessons, and Chinese “Go” strategy courses as the only student not belonging to any one ethnicity. To live up to my heritage, I needed to master two cultures at once and felt myself utterly failing. However, after all those persistent years of attempting to acculturate myself, I have learned to use chopsticks to carry my food and to withstand fried Indian dishes drowned in flaming curry. Somehow, though, I feel like I’ve hit the bull’s-eye of the wrong target. Improving my hand-stick coordination and harnessing the digestive powers of my stomach haven’t made me more culturally aware. The semblance of comfort with cultural traditions hasn’t helped me understand them or the people who practice them. Of course, I know on a very superficial level the countries my parents are from, but I've just skimmed the surface of my heritage. Beneath the veneer, much of my culture remains cloaked in darkness. Luckily, confusion doesn't preclude curiosity, and that's something I have a lot of. I'm still uncovering the cultural legacy of my ancestry. I don't know if it's a process that will ever end, but it's not really a race, nor is it about race any longer. It's about identity. It's an adventure that's only just beginning. I invite you along for the ride with just one request. Don't ask me what I am. Save your breath and ask me who I am. Maybe we’ll both find out.