The first time I went to China was when I was maybe 14. Up until that point I used to dream of returning, getting on the plane and discovering some semblance of peace. That first trip could only best be described as a cultural overload but I later learnt this to be only one version of the country.
A focal point was visiting my orphanage and the town I was supposedly linked to. Overwhelmed would be too simple a word to encapsulate my feelings. A sense of disconnectedness to a life I couldn’t remember, an ounce of guilt that I could have been one of these children and finally a deep sadness washed over me. Before, not really knowing where I came from, enabled me to pretend I was the daughter of an Emperor or the sister to Mulan, limitless creations of a child’s imagination. This trip brought me to the true reality of my beginning. Nothing special, magical or even satisfying. At the time, this burst of realism was simply met with more questions but with the barrage of cultural performances, cuisine tasting and sightseeing, proper processing wasn’t fully explored. Quite honestly, years later I am still trying to understand what this all means.
A particular vivid memory was the initial distinct emotion of belonging as I walked through the many markets with my family. Whilst they would be audibly assaulted by the numerous locals insisting they could offer the best deals, I walked freely, undisturbed. To them, I was just another local, some even initiated conversation in Chinese. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like in the UK I particularly stand out either but this notion of full immersion was a new concept I found refreshing. However, this appreciation quickly turned into anxiety. With only a basic level of Chinese, all I could offer was a culturally familiar face. Additionally, my ability to speak confidently in Chinese plummeted. Where locals already expected a fluent response, I could only provide simple sentences. A new type of detachment crept in, every new encounter unveiling me to be the fraud I had branded myself to be, another painful reminder that I don’t belong. Was simply passing at surface level as one of them, enough? In short, of course not! The problem lies more in my yearning to belong to a country that I will always be considered an outsider in. I should be content with who I am now… right?
On my more recent visits to China, I have tried to come to terms with my identity. Yet, there are still things I find difficult to feel fully fine about. For example, the many times I see a family with two parents and a daughter, happily holding hands as they roam the streets. The parents are smiling and the little girl is laughing with her pristine pink shoes and neatly plaited hair. I look at that and pause, ‘could that have been me?’, ‘would I have been that happy?’, ‘what is the difference between me and that girl?’. In another situation, I remember there was this big performance at a shopping mall for a school’s anniversary. One of the acts was a dance by a dozen girls who looked only a few years younger than me. Dancing to some kpop song, the performance was met with a wave of flashing camera lights and proud parents. It’s not always easy feeling like you are the one who didn’t make the mark, which I know is an illogical deduction. There are times that I wonder what my life would have been like if I wasn’t adopted. This is in no way is a commentary on my upbringing as an adoptee but rather a curiosity into the unknown. I highly hope that at my core, I would have been fundamentally the same person, basically the whole ‘Nature vs. Nurture’ debate I guess (a bit of psychology for you).
If you are an adoptee who is going or thinking about going to China or wherever you were born, the only slice of advice I would give you is go in with an open mind (I know, cliche). Learning about my own culture was an experience I treasure deeply but it can be hard when you are met with stark realities. For the longest time I fantasised China as my home and that once I got there, everything will suddenly make sense. However, China isn’t my home, it is just the place my story began. Now, to me, China is a place I feel I can understand myself more in or a place I can reinvent myself on my own terms. In the future, China is somewhere I could choose to call ‘home’, living not as Dǎng fú yí but as Emily.
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