Disclaimer: This piece is not intended to mock any community, but a depiction of how I felt perhaps due to others' negligence.
It is Holi season, and though people never mentioned it, many are homesick.
The last time I felt this way was during my exchange in 2019. It was negative 40 degrees that November in Harbin, China when people celebrated their National Day. My Taiwanese roommates and I sat in our dorms, watching live broadcasts of military processions, mass fireworks, and glamorous cultural performances, feeling as lonely as ever.
Though I never wanted to admit it, I envy those proud of their country. It is a luxury I do not have since Taiwan isn’t recognized as one. We are in between the gap of Time and History: once belonged to Imperial China, was colonized by the Netherlands, fought World War 2 as Japanese, and got returned to a diplomatic Chinese government that no longer rules China.
Looking around, I see people forming communities by ethnicity for a sense of security in this foreign land, and through judging those who are different from them. We refuse to be defined by our race but are trapped in the comfort of those who look like us.
Oh! How they stare at the ethnic Chinese girl who thrills to be Indian. How absurd! Who does she think she is?
Repeat after me, “Main Assam se hoon.” (I’m from Assam.) I said.
(*Assam is a state in northeastern India, and people there look ethnically Chinese.)
People around me roared in laughter in a language I could not understand. I quietly smiled just to fit in. Sometime later, I wondered if they had forgotten about me and why I even bothered to try.
“Tum mujhe bhool gaye ho.” (You've forgotten me.)
They showed little to no interest in where I come from or what Taiwan is. “The Chinese girl” is all they remembered me as.
“Mera naam Chin-Chin-Chu…Hello, mister, how do you do? Baaba..baaba”
I have come to understand that loneliness doesn’t come from being alone, but from realizing that you do not belong, and perhaps never will.
“Main akela hoon!” (I’m lonely) I yelled at someone at a crowded rooftop party so people wouldn’t notice how clumsily I tried to hide my sorrow.
“You should try and hang out with your people. You know, find a ‘Chinese’ dude.” Dad mumbled on call. If only the world is black and white, even then I would be a permanent shade of grey.
I want to be proud of myself but struggle to define who I am:
Most Taiwanese no longer deem themselves as Chinese.
Our brief colonization by the Dutch didn’t make our skin fair enough,
Half-a-century assimilation doesn’t make us Japanese enough,
Now my affection towards Desi culture doesn’t make me Indian enough,
Nor does my style of living or accent make me American enough.
I am stuck in between, just like Taiwan,
my home, where I come from.
“Turns out, life's a little bit more complicated than a slogan on a bumper sticker. Real life is messy.”, Judy said in Zootopia. In between the mess, I want to believe that there is good in both worlds and that someday, some way, or someone will allow me to fulfill that utopia.
If part of growing up means learning to love ourselves the way others couldn't, I have realized that we don't need validation to be proud of where we come from; just like we don't need validation to be loved.
Therefore, for those who ever feel the same way as I did, just so you know, if anyone asks me what I would tell my younger self, I would have told you the same thing:
"I'm proud of you."
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