After seven years since my last visit, I decided to come back to Hong Kong, the skyscraper city perched upon islands along the southern coast of China, where I used to live when I was about three years old before I moved to California. Throughout my childhood, I spent several summers flying back to Hong Kong to visit family, enduring the stifling hot and humid weather while relishing in the opportunity of having so much good food to eat (a sushi lover's paradise) and so many interesting places to see. Skyscraper apartment buildings with homes on the 50th floor, noisy chaotic "wet markets" selling live seafood and fresh vegetables, crowds of people shuffling along the street like schools of fish - Hong Kong was always a fascinating contrast to the relatively quiet, humble city of Modesto, whose name in Spanish aptly translates to "modest".
So there I was, back in the city I spent part of my childhood in. Even after 7 years of being away, Hong Kong still held the same excitement for me.
Returning to Hong Kong was something I decided to do while I was in Nicaragua, feeling as though it was time for me to reconnect with this place I used to call home. Truthfully, the idea of being in a place where I could look like a local was appealing to me, especially during a time when I was still adjusting to the feeling of walking down the street and being stared at by every person I passed by, the realization that no matter how fluently I spoke the language or how long I lived there, I would still be a foreigner because of the way I looked. Thus, part of my decision to come back was from the culture shock I felt in Nicaragua during those first two months, a yearning to be somewhere where I felt as though I belonged. Of course, these feelings subsided somewhat after finding close friends, giving me a feeling of acceptance. Even if I didn't feel as though I "belonged" within the entire community of León, at least I felt that I belonged within a smaller community of friends and family, people who knew me and loved me for who I was, despite our cultural differences.
However, even growing up in the United States, I would sometimes feel separate somehow. I was not just American, but American-born-Chinese, a third-generation "abc". Even though I was lucky enough to never have to experience the hardships my grandparents did as first-generation Chinese immigrants, to never have had to live through a time when Chinese people could not even buy houses in certain neighborhoods, I still grew up knowing that being a Chinese-American made me feel different.
Although I had the good fortune of growing up with a supportive family and in a tolerant community, curiosity would strike, and I would still wonder how different my life would be if I had grown up in a place where I could look around and see faces that looked like my own, a place where I could speak Chinese in public without garnering stares from strangers or watch movies and tv shows with characters who had facial features like mine. How different would my self-identity be, had I grown up as a Chinese person in China rather than a Chinese person in the United States? Would I be any different, or in the end, does it all come down to who we make ourselves to be, regardless of where we came from? I think part of my desire to come back to Hong Kong was to explore these questions.
However, I also had a strong urge to revisit my past. For personal reasons, I avoided coming back to Hong Kong for many years, choosing to bury this part of myself because it was easier than trying to figure out the answers. The most difficult questions seem to be the ones about our own past. However, as a young adult about to begin my (somewhat) independent journey into the world, I didn't want to take my first step while carrying uncertainties about who I am and how I felt about my past. A few pieces from my past were missing, and before I began a stage in my life that would essential demand of myself to figure out who I am and what I want to do with the rest of my life, I had to be ready to accept hard truths, the missing pieces that would ultimately strengthen this foundation.
Returning to Hong Kong was something I decided to do while I was in Nicaragua, feeling as though it was time for me to reconnect with this place I used to call home. Truthfully, the idea of being in a place where I could look like a local was appealing to me, especially during a time when I was still adjusting to the feeling of walking down the street and being stared at by every person I passed by, the realization that no matter how fluently I spoke the language or how long I lived there, I would still be a foreigner because of the way I looked. Thus, part of my decision to come back was from the culture shock I felt in Nicaragua during those first two months, a yearning to be somewhere where I felt as though I belonged. Of course, these feelings subsided somewhat after finding close friends, giving me a feeling of acceptance. Even if I didn't feel as though I "belonged" within the entire community of León, at least I felt that I belonged within a smaller community of friends and family, people who knew me and loved me for who I was, despite our cultural differences.
I felt an amazing sense of belonging when I was in León, Nicaragua, thanks to my friends.
Although I had the good fortune of growing up with a supportive family and in a tolerant community, curiosity would strike, and I would still wonder how different my life would be if I had grown up in a place where I could look around and see faces that looked like my own, a place where I could speak Chinese in public without garnering stares from strangers or watch movies and tv shows with characters who had facial features like mine. How different would my self-identity be, had I grown up as a Chinese person in China rather than a Chinese person in the United States? Would I be any different, or in the end, does it all come down to who we make ourselves to be, regardless of where we came from? I think part of my desire to come back to Hong Kong was to explore these questions.
However, I also had a strong urge to revisit my past. For personal reasons, I avoided coming back to Hong Kong for many years, choosing to bury this part of myself because it was easier than trying to figure out the answers. The most difficult questions seem to be the ones about our own past. However, as a young adult about to begin my (somewhat) independent journey into the world, I didn't want to take my first step while carrying uncertainties about who I am and how I felt about my past. A few pieces from my past were missing, and before I began a stage in my life that would essential demand of myself to figure out who I am and what I want to do with the rest of my life, I had to be ready to accept hard truths, the missing pieces that would ultimately strengthen this foundation.
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