By: Eliana Morales
My appearance tells one story, but my language contradicts it. The characters from my early school memories look nothing like me, with their blonde hair and blue eyes. It never bothered me that I was adopted, and it still doesn’t. Those affected most seemed to be my elementary class, cornering me on the playground with a chorus of, “I feel so bad for you!”
When I see a Chinese woman depicted in a show or movie, my heart swells with pride. She is beautiful, and in a way, she is me. Double points if she has a monolid. But the moment she mentions a traditional dish or speaks Mandarin, I’m completely lost.
I’m so lost that I had to use Google to even recall a few Chinese dishes. In the meantime, I’ll list some foods I don’t need Google’s help to name: arepas, arroz con gandules, tostones, sancocho.
When I speak Spanish, I can practically see the gears turning in people’s heads. They think their eyes deceive them.
Then follows a question like, “Where are you from? No, where are you really from?”
Or “What is your…uh, heritage?”
And then we both sit through my long, rehearsed spiel about how I ended up this way.
Figuring out where I fit can be confusing. For example, Asian Club Night is not my night. The people on stage look like me, but their experiences feel so far removed from mine. So, I have decided that Latin American Club Night is mine. But not as much as it belongs to others.
Other people parade around in their traditional dress, proudly waving their country’s flag while I hesitate at the entrance to pick a flag that represents me. Although I know the language, food, attitudes and stories, something as simple as missing a TV show reference or not knowing a dance makes me feel as if I don’t fully belong.
Of course, this belief is self-imposed, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the remedy comes through accepting my unique story. The more I talk about my experience, the more I find people who relate to me. Maybe they’re not Chinese with “Morales” as their last name, but they feel caught between cultures.
I’ve learned that cultural identity is not as straightforward for most people as I thought it was. The reality is that we live in a country where people come from everywhere. Although we find people like us and bond over shared culture, we also create a new culture. Our new culture is rooted in what our parents passed down, but it contains curiosity and openness towards things that are different. Gen Z is particularly good at having conversations that revolve around identity, and I have been pleasantly surprised by the number of experiences that parallel mine.
Maybe people like us aren’t meant to chase identity in a single culture, but to turn inward and see it in the life we’ve created. Instead of thinking we belong nowhere, we can realize that our complex background equips us to relate to many. The experience that once felt isolating becomes intriguing, beautiful and worth sharing.
