We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Isabella Degenhardt a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Isabella , appreciate you joining us today. One of our favorite things to hear about is stories around the nicest thing someone has done for someone else – what’s the nicest thing someone has ever done for you?

Do you know who the best kind of people are? The type of people who see you struggling behind your smile, and smile back at you to make yours a little brighter. The type of people who see you trying to hold it together so they chat with you after class and tell you it gets better. The type of people who can see your pain, and remind you to lean into your faith. The type of people who are willing to reach out their hand even if you don’t need it. The type of people that ask are you okay, and then start to rub the side of your arm. And in those moments, when you can’t hide anymore, you fall into their arms without question and bury your teary-eyed face into their chest, as they give you nothing but comfort. Sometimes in life, you cross paths with someone who instantly makes you feel calm, inspired, motivated, and most of all, hopeful. In 2021, I had the privilege to meet and learn from the most resilient, wise, and kind woman. She was the gift that kept on giving. From her obsession with cows to the life she brought to literature, there are not enough words in the dictionary to ascribe her brilliance and quirk. These are only small details of the big impact my high school Literature teacher made in my life.

High school went just as they said it would, “in the blink of an eye”. While the years seemed to fly by, there were always those days that never seemed to end. One can only hope for the time to pass by and a patient friend to sit with. On those days when merely existing and being human was hard, my sweet teacher would sit with me. She would encourage my dreams and celebrate even my smallest wins. Although she wouldn’t always know what was going on, she never failed to have the right words. Although familial love is the strongest, it is certainly filled with obligations and duties, and sometimes, secrets and hidden resentments. She never owed me anything, and yet I only recall feeling loved by her. I remember the days and weeks leading up to and after college decisions as some of the most pivotal moments not only in my career but also in my life. The glass castle I placed my self-worth, ego, and dreams in, started to crack with each of life’s stones thrown. Every little thing became a big reason why the world was against me, why God hated me, and why I was destined to fail. It might be cliché but nonetheless every ounce true, my teacher saved me from myself.

“My hope for you is that one day you look back on this time, and you’re proud of all that you did, it’s not easy, but you did it, you’re doing it.” Time and time again, she’d tell me to not get tangled in the world’s tragedies, “for you are too smart to fall into their traps”. She’d remind me the world will shift a million times, but “God is the only ground who will remain”. If there was a book written about all the beautiful things she is, the most undeniably wonderful thing would be her love for the Gospel, unlike any person I have ever met. I say this because there is no explanation for the kind of warmth and love one can experience from the presence of another human, other than God’s very presence in their life. She radiated His image, unlike any person I’ve ever known.

So to my high school Literature teacher, I miss you. I miss the little things about you, but the big things as well. I miss how I never had to question if I was being judged, because you always made me feel like the most beautiful soul in the room. I miss how you held on to all of my words when I would vent or tell a story. I loved how you always made certain to give your input, whether I liked it or not. I miss our conversations because whether they were shallow or deep, I always learned something new from them and I’d do anything to learn one more thing from you.

I am not the same person I was last year or the year before, but one thing for certain is the change you started in my life. I can finally look in the mirror and smile because I see the person everyone else can see, and the person you saw. The person who is “enough”.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

Who are you? Oftentimes, is the first question people ask upon meeting me, and the last question I ask the person in the mirror. In an age of universal identity aesthetics, who really has the answer to life’s big question? Certainly not me, at least not yet. Although I am unsure of who I am, I do have the answers to some things. I know what I am. I am a child of the Lord, a daughter, a sister, a friend, and a lover. I know what I like. I like rainy days, dancing, good food, jazz music, and waking up on a Sunday with nothing to do. I know what I have. I have a mother, siblings, friends, and a God who loves me. But the real question is, who am I?

One of my greatest fears is even with what I am, what I like, and what I have, I am still nothing at all.

Without victimizing myself, I struggle with finding myself too. Growing up, I have always strived to do everything. It didn’t matter if it was something I liked or hated, as long as I was told it was good for my future, there was no doubt that I would make it happen. I was blessed to have been raised in Vietnam with a support system to be the driver I needed to be where I am today. My nanny Kieu, my single mom, my grandparents, and a burning passion to be better were among the many fundamental rocks I could not be more thankful to have.

Now at the edge of my 20’s, I am faced with the cliché dilemma of choosing my path for the future. How can I choose to be a professional dancer, when I have been preparing and dreaming of studying law since I lived to see the corruption and manipulation that occurred when my childhood home was stolen from under me? Leaving my sister, my mother, and myself with nowhere to go, but a loving stranger’s home. But how can I choose law when I have been a dancer since before I could read well enough to understand the world around me? Starting out with ballet, and then eventually discovering my passion in ballroom dancing has to be one of the best gifts in my life. After dedicating over 15 odd years to this form of art, nothing speaks to my soul more than when I am on the dance floor speaking my language. Since starting college, maintaining a regular practice schedule has been nearly impossible to balance with 2 internships, a job, and college happenings. Dance has taken up the larger part of my life, and without it, I am caught mourning the loss of who I was. I currently have plans to reintroduce ballroom back into my life as an extension of my happiness. Who are we without our passions anyway? And to this, I say we as humans will always have the power of choice. A choice to live the life you want, when you want it, and how you want it. This is my ultimate life plan, to create a life I am excited to wake up to.

I had the rare opportunity to return home (Vietnam) this summer after almost 6 years of moving away from everything familiar to me. This trip was not what I expected it to be, but it certainly, was everything I needed it to be. I was so busy with finding my place in this world, that I lost who I was. Some may argue that this is a good thing and while it may be true, there are times you need to be reminded of what you were to appreciate who you are.

While I have yet to find the answer to who I am, I have found who I want to be. I want to be someone my younger self would be proud of. That person isn’t someone who fits in a category box of businesswoman, model, dancer, or musician. She is all of the above and so much more. I want to be a person who can look back at the life she has lived and confidently say, I tried my best. There is nothing like the threat of comfortability and wasted potential. So I vow to always try my absolute best in business, life, love, and friendship. Always remember, you have come farther than you think and are closer than you know.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

I could sit here and tell you everything that hasn’t been done, everything unfinished, everything imperfect. But why focus on the things I haven’t done, why not the things I want to do? I’ve always wanted to be a top-ranked dancer, play the trills in L’Isle Joyeuse by Claude Debussy so beautifully it could make someone cry, take a gap year, and travel the world like one does when they’ve realized they only have one life. I want to do all of these things but I haven’t. Perhaps it is because I have no time, no money, and nobody to do it with. Or maybe it is because of the excessive time I spend focusing on the impossible perfection of my life.

With everything I do in my career, education, relationships, and so on, there is always an afterthought. A voice in the back of my head that says keep going, don’t be lazy. The world doesn’t condone mediocrity, you will fall behind. What is a little short-term pain for a long-term gain? After all, with the scope of my dreams, there is no room left for excuses, for imperfections.

From a young age, I weighed this mindset upon myself and excelled in society, but struggled in life. Always setting unrealistic expectations, I set myself up to fail every time. A commonality amongst perfectionists and the villain in my story. This became clear to me during my senior year of high school. I grasped at straws and searched for every avenue to give me an edge against the other straight-A, student athlete, club president, musician, dancer, and community-oriented Asians, working towards a law degree while discovering “my true self in a foreign country”. Faced with the fear of banality, I did what any student searching for a one-way ticket to academic burnout would do. Signed up for 7 Advanced Placement courses. Of course, this was not an excuse to reduce my workload in Jazz Band, Varsity Cheer, 5 clubs, training to be a professional dancer or working towards bettering the homeless community.

I thought if it looked good on my college resume, then there was no debate. I wanted to be the pristine candidate for every college I applied to. I discounted my entire academic and life experiences leading up to this point, for a college admissions officer. When you live life as an over-achiever, you would rather take the gamble, than put yourself in a position to be less than adequate. Being in a constate of fear, shielded me from potential failure and the truth. It is apparent to me now that no matter what I did or didn’t do, I still would never be able to prepare myself for the days to come.

As expected, I floundered across all divisions of my life. Drowning in deadlines and obligations, my mental and physical health deteriorated. Going to bed at 3 AM and waking up at 6:30 AM became my unending loop. Slowly but surely, my grades began to take a hit and relationships began to deteriorate. It didn’t take too long before people closest to me started to realize the shift in my attitude and energy. Things only escalated when I went through my first (now three) concussion experience, leaving me incapable of attending classes and life. I could not be more grateful to my friends and teachers who were patient and understanding, even when I failed to do the same.

The time finally came when I was counting the minutes, refreshing my email over and over, waiting for college decisions to be sent out. Notice how I used college decisions and not college acceptances? In the back of my head, I already knew, that out of the 22 colleges I scrambled and grinded on completing Common Applications for, only 5 would accept me. Three of which I applied out of convenience and two I had forgotten about. What an earth-shattering, life-changing, wake-up call for me. You can say it is an overused trope, and it probably is, but it is common for a reason. I served my life experiences and self-worth on a platter to a stranger I dedicated my entire being to, only to be told I was not a good “fit”. I thought it was a nicer way of saying “You’re not good enough”.

When I got home that evening, I remember feeling aloof, slightly disappointed, but most of all relieved. My mind replayed the countless nights and hours spent studying, volunteering, practicing, and praying for this moment. This was when I was reminded of the reason to be grateful for where I was in life. To me, if there was anything scarier than failure, was regret. Regret that I could have studied better, volunteered more, practiced longer, or prayed harder. All of which, I poured my heart and soul into, and in the end, I felt relieved.

This was the real earth-shattering, life-changing, wake-up call I needed. I spent too much time being afraid of my own mediocrity, and it nearly destroyed me. I didn’t want to give up anything, so I took on everything and won nothing but a lesson. The truth is, everyone is a little bit average at a lot of things, but focus on some things, and you will find the right things. Too many of us are scared of the consequences of mediocrity, so we will suffer the consequences of perfectionism. In the hopes of achieving what we have deemed as safety. At the core of my drive, I am chasing a sense of security I lacked as a child, and while there is nothing wrong with wanting certainty, nothing in life is really certain. So instead, one day at a time, two feet on the ground, I will take the steps to healing my inner soul, because life is too short to be scared of being human.

How about pivoting – can you share the story of a time you’ve had to pivot?

A feeling all too familiar is when you place so much hope into something and it is nothing like how you expected it to be. As I grew up in Vietnam, it was not strange to make your life goal and plans about moving abroad, specifically the golden streets of America. Although it was not my prime priority, for the millions of citizens seeking freedom under the red and blue stripes, it was their dream. If everyone poured their heart and soul into every visa request only for it to be denied time and time again, this America place must be great. Subsequently, I picked up what all those people denied of DS-60 forms had, an American dream.

My situation compared to the majority of the 97.47 million people living in Vietnam differed slightly. Born with an attitude and mindset befitting only that of an American influence, I was gifted something heavily sought after. A Vietnamese mother adopted by an American family, which resulted in my dual citizenship. In other words, I inherited a golden ticket I never quite appreciated enough, until I moved to Florida in 2018.

After fourteen years of living in the busiest city in Vietnam, I became accustomed to the hustle associated with Saigon. Every day, I woke up and had breakfast of my choice made by my nanny Kieu, who had raised me since before I was born. There is not a habit, mistake, or favorite food of mine she doesn’t know. Followed by a motorcycle or car ride to the private school I have attended since kindergarten and seen the same 25 kids each year. After school, my friends and I would walk to the nearest street food vendor and order the same pack of seasoned rice paper and fried fish sticks. We would play games and giggle while we hid from our drivers and nannies coming to pick us up for our after-school activities. It is so vivid to me I can almost taste the thick humid air mixed with the slight hints of gasoline.

I remember counting the days and bragging to my friends about my yearly trip to the United States and being so excited to feel “at home”. Since all of my family except for my sister, mother, and nanny lived sporadically across the U.S., I never saw my family longer than a month. Every visit was a core memory filled with new adventures and shopping at my favorite stores. Going to a restaurant and not having beggars stand around. Exploring the endless libraries and getting lost inside them. Eating the best bagels and experiencing the other side of who I am. Feeling like everything was new and cooler because it was “made in the USA”. This was how I remembered America. This was my American dream.

Knowing my dream to study law at a prestigious university, my mother made the decision to move to the U.S. for my education. This time, unlike the past 20 trips to America, there was no promise of return. As I said my bittersweet goodbyes, I was excited to see what truly living an American life would be like. This was short-lived. I quickly began to hate living in the U.S., people were cold and distant, and I did not have nannies and staff to spend time and eat with. School was boring and ultimately unchallenging, and I felt underestimated. Teachers and students assumed I would not be able to handle an American education because of my “English ability”. Food became bland and sickening faster than I thought, who knew Mac and Cheese could become so nauseating? But the worst part of it all was nobody here understood me or cared to. It was not until this moment that I realized how much of my identity was based in Vietnam. For years, I felt lonely and unbelonging in this foreign country. Betrayed by my own expectations, I was devastated to live in a culture where everyone lived for themselves. It is not normal to know your neighbors and ask them for favors, to meet a stranger and suddenly become family, to drive down the street and find nutritious food under $2. America was not what I expected it to be, and if you asked me if I missed Vietnam, I would say “I miss home”. 6 years later and after a 32-hour journey, I was finally reunited with my home.

Hearing the pilot announce my landing in Ho Chi Minh City was like a boulder being lifted off my shoulders. I grinded for years and stayed focused on my studies, in anticipation of my return home. I spent my entire trip doing the things I loved and meeting the people I so deeply missed. The country changed so much while I was away, it felt like I was playing tourist in my own country. Although things were different, my friends were grown up, my nanny got older, and the buildings got taller, my heart still felt welcomed. I had suppressed such a large part of myself for so long that I forgot how it felt to be complete. When you wear a mask for so long, you begin to forget it was there.

This trip was an important trip for me because it made me realize the fault in my perspective. When it was time to go back to Florida, the pull to stay was great, but the pull to leave was greater. Despite being the happiest I have been in a while, I can confidently say leaving was the right decision. I always wondered if things would have been better if I just stayed in Asia, but after looking at the country from a different perspective, I was relieved of this doubt. Vietnam may be my birthplace and where I associate the core of who I am with, but living there is not as easy as I remembered it to be. Perhaps I was too young and naïve to see what truly went on behind the scenes. Needless to say, my life will always be split between two lands, and therefore I have learned to embrace both parts of who I am.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://isabelladegenhardt.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/isabelladegenhardt/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/isabella-degenhardt-096689251/

Image Credits
1st image: Victor Vidal @vfvidalphotos 2nd image: Cooper @cooperfoto 3rd image: Millenium Dancesport Competitions 4th image: Water by Ta Nguyen Phuc 5th image: Empowering the Youth project with Helen Care 7th image: Summer 2023 mission trip at the Tu Xuong center for handicapped orphan children in Vietnam