Lessons I’ve learned from being a foreigner in my own home

“Where are you from?”

I pause and run through possible responses in my head. Do I use the short version, I’m American but I grew up abroad? Or the long version: I’m Korean, Chinese, and Hawaiian, but I grew up in Singapore, Bangkok, Los Angeles and Shanghai. Yet, I am an American citizen. Except my parents just moved to Hong Kong, so I technically don’t have a home? I ponder my two options. I decide to stick with the short version to save time and confusion.

Growing up abroad

As an international student, I found many other students with similar backgrounds. We were citizens of country X, but we had lived in countries Y, Z, and so on. It was simple, normal, and even mundane after a while. However, once I moved to the US, lines were blurred and I began to question my own identity.

Photo credit: Jocelyn Hung

Family history

My father’s great-grandparents migrated to Hawai’i from the countryside of China, while my grandmother on my mother’s side moved from Korea after marrying my grandfather, a Korean-American born and raised in Hawai’i. Both my parents grew up in Honolulu, fully immersed in American culture and Western values. 

Where do I stand?

I was born and raised mostly in Asia, but I grew up as an American citizen in a Western household. I know little of my heritage and of my family’s history. I am Chinese, Korean, and Hawaiian in blood, but not in heart. I was never fully immersed in either culture. Instead, I lost three to gain one. I lost sight of my ancestor’s backgrounds and what could’ve been an integral part of my identity due to my empowering identification with a single American self.

A foreigner in my own home

I lived in Shanghai for eight years and only recently did it occur to me that in a way, I was home. I was back at my roots, at the beginning of it all. And yet, I was a foreigner. I did not feel at home. Countless locals commented on my terrible Chinese, saying, “aah, wai guo ren, wai guo ren!” (“foreigner, foreigner!”). Now that I live in the US, I’m no longer considered a foreigner. But my Asian ethnicity still sets me apart from the majority. Having lived abroad all my life, I don’t feel at home here either. No matter where I am, there is a slight unease at knowing I don’t really belong.

Where do I go from here?

It is daunting and unsettling to feel like a stranger wherever you go. There is nowhere to fall back on, no comfort zone, no place to point to and call home. But it is also incredibly liberating. There are no roots to ground me, no external constraints. Ultimately, I am free to define myself however I want, free to travel and choose my own home. The world is my oyster and the question of who I am and where I’m from is still to be determined.

Photo credit: Lindsey Fong