Between Two Worlds
An exploration of Eastern roots and Western life
“Where are you from?”
I’m always momentarily stunned by this question as I instinctively pick out the name of my birth country.
“Oh nice, are you from Kuala Lumpur? Lovely city! Malaysians are so friendly.”
Naturally, where you were raised feels like the most fitting answer. It offers others a sense of your origin, helping them form connections based on a perceived identity.
Over time, I’ve reflected deeply on this. I believe there’s another layer to this question that many people grapple with today.
We have to provide additional context about the places we’ve lived, or the fact that we were raised in different environments—or a combination of both.
I’ve met others with such multifaceted backgrounds that answering the question feels like it requires an entire evening of storytelling.
For me, at least, it’s been a tug-of-war between my Eastern upbringing and my Western adulthood that has shaped me into who I am today.
Eastern childhood.
I grew up in Southeast Asia as a child of the multicultural nation of Malaysia. It’s a melting pot of ethnicities, languages, cuisines, and religions, yet fundamentally united by a shared understanding of core Asian values.
Ethnically, I’m Chinese. Fourth-generation Chinese-Malaysian. My ancestors hail from the great powerhouse of China, which adds another layer of complexity to my identity (but that’s a topic for another day).
In Asia, we were taught how to unwaveringly obey, rooted in filial piety that feels almost contractual. We learned to hold our tongues, to avoid being outspoken or bold, to treat others with the utmost respect, and to always agree with our elders as if they inherently knew better.
It made us docile without being entirely submissive. I found that it held me back—not that I was seeking to rebel at the first opportunity, but to express myself.
Then there were the punishments—typically physical—meant to push us back into line. Tough love. My upbringing felt rigid and cold, partly due to the lack of deep, honest conversations among friends and family. Issues were often left unaddressed and frequently swept under the rug.
Something inside me stirred as I began to reject other parts of the ‘system’ too—greed for wealth and material success, pressure to conform, an unhealthy desire for admiration and validation, and most importantly, a complete fear of vulnerability.
The dark sides of Asian culture that we don’t talk about. We shouldn’t. We can’t.
Western adulthood.
Before I turned 18 and had my first legal sip of alcohol, I was presented with the opportunity to embark on a new chapter: a life abroad, in the United Kingdom.
Independence, individualism, and openness. The essence of a liberal lifestyle from which I felt deprived. The freedom to be myself—to pursue what I wanted to do, learn what I wanted to learn, and speak to people without judgment.
Back then, Asian students were generally expected to study medicine, engineering, law, or, in my case, finance. We were raised to be cookie-cutter moulds of society, following the path of least resistance. Risk aversion was the status quo.
I was pleasantly surprised that my new friends were encouraged to pursue creative career paths or unconventional degrees in history or linguistics. The reduced societal pressure was incredibly refreshing.
My 14 years of studying and working in London eventually opened up a different side of me—one that had always been there but was eagerly waiting for a catalyst.
I became more outgoing and comfortable in my own skin, unafraid to pursue avenues that piqued my interest rather than seeking validation from others. I took on new hobbies, explored different sides of my personality, and pushed myself in ways I never would have done so before.
I started travelling more frequently, immersing myself in various viewpoints from people and cultures across all continents. I grew increasingly accepting of others, patiently seeking to understand why they are the way they are before passing judgment.
I embraced individualism in a non-imposing manner. It became my way of finding myself while remaining true to my deep-rooted Asian upbringing.
I never wanted to isolate myself from others or feel superior by becoming more 'individualistic'; instead, I sought to step outside my comfort zone and grow through learning and shared experiences.
In the excitement of it all, however, a part of me was unconsciously lost. Over the years, I gradually struggled with using spoken languages in Malaysia, lost my appetite for the cuisine, and, in some ways, forgot the ways of my culture.
I began to feel foreign in my own country as I noticed the differences with each returning trip. Staying close to my roots became an afterthought.
Although it wasn't a conscious decision, it was more of a consequence of my desire to become a more complete person. I had thought I was moving in the right direction; it turns out I was merely experimenting and maturing.
Coming full circle.
I recently had the opportunity to spend an extended period in Asia as an adult, and it has been an eye-opener. I found myself reconnecting with my background and gaining a more profound appreciation for my heritage.
Asia does many things right, such as emphasising peace and harmony through a collective acceptance of what is considered morally and ethically correct.
There's often little room for arguing against facts or expressing contrasting opinions (in other words, avoiding conflict—which, in this instance, I'm highlighting the positive aspects of such an approach).
In the past, I've challenged this as a lack of individual-based thinking. While I still believe in the importance of not entirely conforming to norms and traditions, I now recognise the merit of collectivism for society's greater good and well-being.
It's peace and harmony that bind society together in difficult times. The pandemic was a prime example of this, with a unanimous agreement to protect oneself and others. The art of not troubling one another.
Another point I've noticed is that while elements of kindness and respect are not entirely absent in the West, they are deeply ingrained in Eastern cultures. In practice, these values are almost second nature, fostering communal understanding and reducing mutual tension.
Western stereotypes remain prevalent in Asia and I do believe we should work to abolish them. There's so much stigma attached to the Western lifestyle that it gets painted in a bad light, leading to prejudices and unjust discrimination.
The beauty in these values is often overlooked—freedom of thought through individualism, fair treatment for all regarding gender and racial equality, and a broader acceptance of diverse cultures.
It’s made me a better person, and I’m glad these values are slowly but surely starting to flourish among the newer generation.
Who am I?
To this day, I remain impartial and unbiased in my character, embracing the good in everything while standing against the bad.
Ultimately, I maintain an open mind when understanding cultural nuances and am grateful for the opportunity to have experienced both sides of the coin. There is so much to learn from each perspective.
Both cultures have become two halves of me, merging into a blended identity. A third culture? Perhaps. I've always found it moot to label myself.
I get it—people want a reason to connect, and I'm sometimes guilty of doing the same. Yet, without realising it, we often put people in boxes—boxes that are gradually being unpacked in today's world.
The longer I live, the more I identify less with a culture rooted in specific identities. As I surround myself with a diverse community, backgrounds and origins blur, creating a space where I feel most human. I feel most like myself because I no longer have to adhere to the constraints of cultural norms.
I'm not discounting the richness of tradition, nor am I shunning what makes each culture unique and special. I'm simply placing less emphasis on these aspects in constructing my identity.
As the world becomes more connected and people start identifying with various cultural influences, the weight of this question fades a little more each day.
In the years ahead, instead of asking, 'Where are you from?' shouldn't we ask, 'Who are you?'
This post definitely sparked a lot of things in me. I’ve lived in east Asia for 15 years already and unlike many westerners who come here, I didn’t find (nor look for) a group of English speaking friends. I speak Mandarin and Japanese more than English if you don’t count online.
There is so much to say about the values of each country and culture, not only the countries culture but also various groups within each culture.
My experience is that most people in Japan and China admire western culture and many are jealous of it, but the recent trajectory of both American politics and power have changed things for some people.
I actually feel many people have desires similar to when you were young but they don’t actually pursue them. Instead they fantasize. Both individualism and collectivism have their healthy versions and unhealthy versions and then they can interact with each other in a balanced or unbalanced way.
Do you speak Chinese?
I will have to write something about this at some point…but there are so many angles to take. Not only the east vs west thing but also how things are decentralizing and generalizations become less and less applicable.
Thank you for stirring me!!!
Beautifully written. I appreciate your honest reflections and introspection. And can relate similar in my journey. I now have newfound appreciation for Asia, its culture deeply rooted in every facets of our lives. Still searching and still learning. Looking forward to reading more 😌