How Embracing My Eastern Heritage Changed My Life in the West

“Stories matter. Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and malign, but stories can also be used to empower and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people, but stories can also repair the broken dignity.

That when we reject the single story, when we realise that there is never a single story about any place, we regain a kind of paradise.” —Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, The danger of a single story

Our lives and cultures are made up of many overlapping stories.

One of my favourite television shows is the reality genealogy series “Who Do You Think You Are?” It invites well-known personalities and celebrities to uncover their ancestral ties and cultural roots, offering the audience a glimpse into the richness and diversity of their country’s collective identity.

Yet I have always had complex feelings about my ethnic and cultural identity.

As someone who grew up in Hong Kong during the 80’s and 90’s and has been living in Australia for nearly three decades, I often ponder questions regarding my identity: Who am I? Chinese, British overseas citizen, or Australian? What do other people perceive me as? How do I see myself?

Recently I learned about cultural intelligence being an essential part in cultivating deep care, compassion, and connection. It starts from understanding and sharing stories of our ancestry (blood), family (birth) and personal self (choice). As we trace back the path walked by our ancestors, we learn to appreciate our own journey and those of others beyond skin colour and cultural stereotype.

And here are the stories about my blood, birth, and choice.
 

Blood: Fleeing to Hong Kong

My father has in his possession a copy of our family’s ancestry chart, describing how our first ancestors settled in Central China around 700 BC. The family clan fled South and settled in the Canton region around the 14th century when the Mongolians ruled over China—and my grandfather was born in 1912. During the second Sino-Japanese war (1937–1945), my grandparents escaped to Hong Kong for safety. My grandfather worked as a bookkeeper for a taxi company, while my grandmother picked up casual work from factories. They had four children together, with my father being the youngest and also the first to graduate from university.

On the other hand, little is known about the ancestry of the maternal side. My grandfather made a living as a poultry butcher in the wet market and my grandmother worked as a waitress. My mother was one of seven children born in Hong Kong during the 1950’s. Their family of ten including my great grandmother shared a small 300-square feet apartment above the wet market. My mother and her siblings were able to receive their education through financial support from local schools and charities.

Birth: The world I was born into

During the 1980’s, Hong Kong was a shining and buzzing cosmopolitan city nicknamed “the Pearl of Orient”. The glorious Victoria Harbor. The futuristic, sparkling cityscape. A seductive dance between cultures of the East and West.

While I was raised to live in accordance with the traditional Chinese values of humility, respect, and cooperation, I was always drawn to the Western expression of boldness, independence, and free spiritedness.

I had never felt a sense of belonging in my home city.

Because of my hard of hearing, I was teased and bullied a lot at school for missing or misinterpreting conversations. I wanted to be left alone, wallowing in shame and embarrassment. The world around me felt unsafe and unkind.

I also had a very strict upbringing. I was not allowed to do many things that most children did, such as watching TV and playing video games. The lack of shared topics and interests made it difficult for me to make friends and have fun.

Growing up under the British colonial rules, I was conditioned to believe that everything in the West was more superior than the East, from the government system to societal model, technological advance to educational focus, pop culture to fine art. Unconsciously I began to reject the Chinese traditions, rituals, and culture and saw them as awkward, irrelevant, and out of touch.

I cringed every time my parents watched Cantonese opera on television. I participated in reluctance when our families travelled to the Taoist temple to pray to the Gods. I preferred eating fettuccine carbonara and club sandwiches to Chinese dim sum and street food.

As I learned more about China’s modern history such as the Second Opium War in the 19th Century and the Chinese Cultural Revolution, I distanced myself even further from my roots. My young heart was crushed when I watched the Tiananmen Square Massacre unfolding in the news on June 4, 1989. I could not fathom how China, one of the world’s greatest ancient civilizations, could fall from grace like this. I did not want to be identified as Chinese.
 

Choice: Surviving in the West

Five years after the Tiananmen Square Massacre, our family migrated to Australia.  

While my parents and relatives warned me about racism, I had not experienced any issues at school and at work. Almost everyone I met was kind, friendly and patient. For the first time in my life, I felt I belonged and was proud to call Australia home.

But living in the Land Down Under was not without challenges.

For as long as I can remember, I have always loved reading, writing, and drawing. Yet I was advised by family members to put aside my love for arts to study science and become a hospital pharmacist. All in the name of “survival” in the Western society, making it to a position that was thought to be well-respected in the eyes of society.

Making friends continued to be a challenge due to cultural differences. I was not drawn to the mainstream Australian lifestyle, centring around outdoor activities, playing and watching sports, and drinking alcohol. Sometimes I felt sad when I listened to my Australian friends talking about their childhood as I missed out on so much fun being born in a traditional Chinese family.

In order to fit in with the Western model of success, I forced myself to act in a strong and masculine way by being hyper-logical, emotionally detached, and mentally tough. I pushed away any traits that were deemed weak or feminine, such as my physical disability, my introversion, and my emotional sensitivity. I also ignored the Eastern approach to holistic wellness and adopted Western habits. Instead of listening to my body’s needs for rest and nourishment, I prided myself for eating less calories, exercising more in the gym, and working hard past the pain threshold.

After spending two decades living life in the Western way, I crashed and burned.

Finally, the best of both worlds

For the past seven years, I have been focusing on, not only healing the physical body, but also doing a lot of soul searching, and questioning everything–my gender, race, culture…and all the choices made for me and by me so far.

The more I reflect, the more I realise that this tug of war between the East and the West, this ongoing push-and pull-tension, happens every day. Not just within myself, but also between people and countries around the world. Both sides try to claim their superiority over the other side.

But there is no need to pick a side between the East and the West. We can learn from each other and embrace the best of both worlds.

No one culture is better or worse. The East and the West are merely representing different perspectives, different models, and different learnings. Each culture has their light and shadow sides. The key for humanity to thrive is through embracing the East and the West, the masculine and the feminine, the old and the new, in the present moment.

Through exploring my own cultural stories, I have come to realise that my existence is only possible because of my ancestors. It was their collective strength, resilience, and wisdom that led me to this surreal experience of living as a Chinese, a British overseas citizen, and an Australian. No longer I feel the need to define my identity or choose my home. I am the sum of everything, and I am already home—within myself—feeling loved, grateful, and hopeful.