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It was a weekend in Hong Kong last September. My aunt, second uncle and his family were all with me, in his apartment, talking away about my life, college and everything else. It was then where I decided to bring up the topic of Tibet and Taiwan.

The first lesson you learn about going to China is that of all the topics you discuss, Tibet and Taiwan, among other governmental and cultural discussion is absolutely off limits, no matter how logical or meaningful you sound. You can have the best argument in the world, and make absolutely no sense in the eyes of a Chinese person because you are trespassing on their nationalistic heritage.

"No argument. Tibet is part of China", as my aunt told me aggressively after I posed the seemingly innocent question.

"What about the roots of history?" I inquired back.

Not even history, no matter how logical and systematic, could convince my aunt to say anything otherwise, even on the issue of Tibet. In leveraging her beliefs on mine, she asked why Britain couldn't just come back and annex the United States: after all, both speak English.

In the end, they were right. I got a talk from my mother.

Since that fateful five minute conversation, I have taken a long look at who exactly I am. On the surface, the label is simple: Chinese-American (or Asian-American, whichever you please) However, while the genetics may dictate that I am Asian, and while the background indicates that I am Chinese, there is without a doubt that I am indeed more American, than Chinese.

The consensus is simple. You can certainly ask yourself why I am writing this note, and be as ignorant as I may be, such an issue never really occurred to me until I returned from studying abroad.

In spending four months in Hong Kong, a summation of the aforementioned event, as well as getting myself involved in Chinese culture from a true Chinese point of view has told me, that while my genetics may indicate that I am of Chinese descent, I am truly not all that much. I am rather, Chinese-American, as the obvious would indicate, with the American aspect of me bigger than Chinese.

This may seem like a slap to the face for my Chinese counterparts, but such is certainly not. Ask those around me, and they will tell you that a mention of anything against China will illicit a response from me that's less than favorable. I am indeed proud of the 5,000 years, numerous accomplishments and economic gain that the country has made in the last score. Suffice to say, while I can associate myself with the culture, I cannot call myself fully 100 percent.

So where does this leave me? Am I Chinese, or am I American? The label is one thing, but for myself, I think I label myself neither, but rather a conglomerate of everything around here. My closest friends after all, are Indian, Bulgarian, Bangladeshi, part German/Peruvian, Japanese and everything in between. As for myself? I'm probably the most whitewashed Chinese person you could ever meet with the most fluent Chinese -- I do not listen to Chinese music, watch Chinese movies or really watch Chinese soaps. However, I pay attention to what goes on in the mainland.

In the end, what is to be learned from this? Am I ungrateful? You could interpret that way, though I disagree. Am I confused? Hardly. My viewpoint on this is that after spending four months abroad, I have come to the conclusion that I am more multicultural than anything, an international blend so to say. A part of me is American, and a part of me is Chinese, but only by association. I feel like in the environment that I've grown up in, the only choice here is to be multicultural, and nothing else.

What do you think?