My first lie was about going to church.

My family and I lived in an area of Miami, Florida that was predominantly Cuban. We, along with the people who worked at the one Chinese restaurant, were the only Asians in the area and probably the entire state. I was six years old and thought spanish was the national language of America and that everyone ate arroz con pollo.

My parents enrolled me at a Christian private school even though they were both Buddhists. I don’t think my parents cared if the school inculcated biblical lessons as long as they taught me how to read. But aside from the morning prayers, my school wasn’t that pious. My teacher even read us Charlotte’s Web after lunch. And even though I was the only Asian kid at a Christian school, I still felt like I belonged. My class was small–about six kids–and we were all friends. We didn’t see any differences. We just all played together during recess.

But then one Monday morning this would all change.

My teacher asked each student to tell the class what they did that weekend.

Most of the stories varied and involved some kind of family outing like the beach or the zoo. But they all shared one common activity. Each student mentioned that on Sundays they went to church with their family. My turn was coming up and I didn’t know what to say. My family did not go to church on Sundays. My family and I went to McDonalds and ate hotcakes. I grew nervous. Would my teacher yell at me if I said we didn’t go to church? Would she tell the principal and have me kicked out? Would the other kids still play with me? Would everyone think I was some impostor and have me shipped back to Korea?!?!

So when my turn came, I talked about my weekend and at the end I said, “And then on Sunday we all went to church.”

Just like that.

The words just tumbled out. Oh, yes, church. Go there all the time. I love Jesus.

I was convinced that my teacher would see through my feeble attempt to come across as a devout Christian but she didn’t say anything. And for the rest of the school year, I had no problem telling everyone in class that I went to church on Sundays. Of course, at that age I never saw the irony that I was lying about going to church and thus, committing a sin in the eyes of god, but whatever. At least I fit in.

My second biggest lie was after we moved away from the Cuban neighborhood to this area called Pinecrest. If Southwest Dade was predominantly Cuban then Pinecrest was all white people. Like the white people I would see on tv shows. They were blonde and tan and had names like Jessica and Jennifer.

My new neighborhood had a lot of kids my age. Every single girl was blonde. All the houses had swingsets on their front yard and a basket ball hoop on top of their garage. Our house had weird smells of fish stew emanating from the kitchen. Other kids were allowed to roam around their house with their soiled sneakers. We had to leave our shoes by the door and come in barefoot.

My family and I stuck out like a cold sore.

When the girls finally introduced themselves to me, they said their names were Holly, Claire, Jennifer, Allison.

It was my turn.

I told them my name was Jennifer.

To me, Jennifer seemed like the most American of American names. And in that instant I had a new biography. Isn’t that what America was all about? To carve yourself a better identity? And in my eyes, I was a Christian girl named Jennifer.

Amazingly, my parents never noticed that all these kids were calling me by a totally different name. So this advanced my new identity. Until we started school and my teacher called out my real name.

So that’s when I learned my two biggest lessons about lying. One, you will always get caught. And two, when creating a new identity for yourself, it is probably unwise to give fake names to people that go to your school.