The first year at Bronx High School of Science, my English teacher assigned my class to write an autobiography. After I stated my name, I had a hard time describing myself. I could see my classmates writing vigorously, yet I was sitting there in class wondering what to write.

Freshmen year, the "dark" days of my life, like something you would see in a Korean drama. I was the Asian punk. Don't even stare at me or expect a curse to your mother followed by a painful Tae Kwon Do kick to your stomach. Every night was the time of my life with my crew, hanging out and drinking beers with our fellow Asian upperclassmen. Just the fact of being friends with them gave me the sense of power and superiority to my classmates. After several fights with rivals and neighboring school groups, I was notorious. The whole...