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Identity can be hard to define
“Where are you from?” It’s supposed to be a polite question, a conversation starter among people who just met. However, in my case, this simple inquiry turns into a longwinded tale of awkwardness and embarrassment on my part. What starts out as a friendly chat morphs into an analysis of my life no one asked for. I usually respond with the answer that I am Chinese, born and raised in Shanghai. Unfortunately, that brings the dreaded follow-up question of why I speak English without an accent. Even if I say I’m Australian, it won’t satisfy the person. “Then why don’t you have an Australian accent?” In reality, I do not know where I am from. I am ethnically Chinese, Australian by passport, and have been raised in an American education (in an expat community) environment since the age of two. At the age of 15, I have been exposed to more cultures than most people have been in their lifetime, yet I do not fit in any. Instead of categorizing myself into one nationality, I would like to think that I am simply a person of this world.
Growing up in Shanghai is strange, being that I’m an expat in my own hometown. Chinese do not understand why English is my first language, and although I am fluent in Chinese, they often mock my subtle foreign accent. I feel like I am more comfortable with my American friends than with Chinese family friends that I meet; it seems as though I can relate more to the expat kids in my school. Does that mean that, mentally, I am more American than Chinese? Can someone accumulate a nation’s culture without ever living in that nation itself?
Instead of categorizing myself into one culture, I think I can relate to many. I have traveled to over 10 countries and five continents. I had been on airplanes before I could walk. I love traveling, and I think that it has molded me into a more socially and culturally aware person. For this I am forever grateful.
As I am typing this, I am currently in a writing class at Yale University, here for an academic summer program. I have flown over 11,820 kilometers from Shanghai to New Haven by myself, and will fly back alone in a couple of days. If I had to pick one thing that my unconventional background has taught me, it would be independence. I have flown on countless flights by myself, as well as having made numerous medical appointments. On the first day of kindergarten, my mother told me clearly she would never be able to help me with anything involving school. The language barrier was just too large. I have never relied on my parents for academic help, and I never will.
I may not know where I am from and I may not have an answer to that dreaded four-word question yet, but I now know this uncertainty may be something to embrace.
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