“Oh, what?! I never knew you were Chinese?! That’s crazy!” 

That was Kaan, a friend of mine since the beginning of my freshman year at Rice. As he exclaimed and jumped out of his chair, all my friends started to laugh. Amongst the laughter, Abe, another friend of mine, asked casually, “How different was it, though?”

I always get asked this question. Some iteration of “How big of a change was it [to come from China to the US]?” Frankly, like Kaan, most of those that I run into are surprised by the fact that I am not a US citizen. Trust me, their eyes light up even more when I tell them I am fully Chinese. My family tree stems from all within China, from the east coast south of Shanghai (mom) to the hilly parts west of it (dad). I grew up in the city of Shenzhen, a sprouting municipal monster that borders Hong Kong. For those who get to know this fact about me, they never expect me to speak fluent, no-accent English, and act with such confidence around strangers. So, they always end up perplexed, and in comes the question. Every time. 

So, how do I answer? Honestly, this is not easy: culture, language, independence, mental health, and being at a remote elite boarding school makes this a complex situation. 

Let’s start with the culture. To begin with, I never knew the rules of football, baseball, or hockey, which was very unhelpful for me to understand anything on my friend’s TV at high school. Going to the cafeteria every day, I couldn’t find the beef noodles or the Mapo tofu that I was used to all the time. It was buffalo chicken wings or shepherd’s pie. Back in China, I had all my classes in one room. In my first few weeks at my high school, my legs were so sore just by walking so much to different classes at different places. I had to make an Instagram account, and even worse, a Snapchat. The NY Times reported only sad and depressing news, and I missed the upbeat reports of the Everyday Titles (a newspaper agency in China).

Besides the culture, there was the language. Let’s imagine the opposite for your situation: when you were 13, instead of going to high school like everyone else, you are prepping for foreign language standardized tests and preparing for an interview in another language, ready to spend your remaining teenage years in a whole different country with everyone speaking that new language. That was me. What made this even harder is how much more talkative Americans are. Back home in China, if I enter the printing room with someone else in it, we won’t speak a word to each other. In the US, the silence will always force the other person to speak, and I am always caught by surprise. 

Being at a boarding school also challenged my independence to the fullest, along with climbing the language barrier. All of a sudden, the constant reminders from Mom were gone, and all that was left was stacked laundry on the bed and study sessions deep at midnight. Missed emails and passed deadlines haunted me. I had to learn how to manage my daily and my time by myself, without Mom’s help anymore. Being alone also challenged my emotional independence. I struggled with being homesick, feeling alone, and finding friends who truly found value within me and being close to me. At this 600-student private boarding school, half of the time, I was trying to pretend as someone who wasn’t me: agreeable, nice, smile on my face, saying “Sup”, and “dapping” the boys up. Trying to seem like some cool dude that I was not made me constantly uncomfortable. It was not until recently, my second year in college, that I truly figured out what it is like to be myself. 

So, why does this matter? Of course, people ask me this all the time, so it matters. But, more importantly, the answer to this question means the world to me. It means the brave and selfless love from my parents to send me away when I was still a kid; it means a big juncture in my life that brought me to an entirely new world; it means the recognition of my struggles and my achievements throughout this journey. In the end, the answer to this question is that I am grateful and blessed to be where I am. I would never have been the person that I am today if I didn’t take that step 5 years ago. What’s even better: the journey isn’t done. 

“Yeah, I am,” I replied to Kaan with a smile. A genuine, happy smile. Behind that smile, I know that this journey will always be a part of my life that I will never take for granted.