I confess there were many times this past week and a half when I came to the blog with good intentions to update - and many more times than that when I experienced a moment or thought and made a mental note to blog about it. Yet I never managed to piece together a blog post or to focus long enough to publish, because first and foremost I felt that the protests in the U.S. deserved some attention, which I should acknowledge here.
But therein lay my stumbling block - as an expat who has lived increasingly more of her adult life outside of the United States than within it, I feel incredibly disassociated - just genuinely unable to connect to current events taking place there, with any semblance of authenticity. Given how long it has been since I've really lived in the U.S., the pandemic and the protests has really underscored the ever-growing sense that it is no longer my home. More than ever I realize how much I have become an observer rather than a participant. All I can say during this tumultuous time is that, I am worried for the U.S., hopeful that things are different this time and that racism, prejudice and bias are getting scrutinized beyond mere lip service, unsure how the protests will play out, and genuinely reeling from the first six months that 2020 has wrought.
Expats seem to carry with them an omnipresent sense of loss for not being on their home turf, for being far away from family, for always living their lives with one foot out the door or half of their minds dwelling on the past and future of a different geographical place; and yet at the same time they are always forced to identify with this displaced sense of self, as it is one of the first descriptive characteristics. "She's American"; "He's British". Interestingly, out here I am usually just "American" and not "Asian American," as my race takes a backseat to my nationality. In the U.S., I am rarely if ever just "American" and am almost always "Asian American." How funny then, that at a moment when I feel least like an American, I am still viewed most like one.
But therein lay my stumbling block - as an expat who has lived increasingly more of her adult life outside of the United States than within it, I feel incredibly disassociated - just genuinely unable to connect to current events taking place there, with any semblance of authenticity. Given how long it has been since I've really lived in the U.S., the pandemic and the protests has really underscored the ever-growing sense that it is no longer my home. More than ever I realize how much I have become an observer rather than a participant. All I can say during this tumultuous time is that, I am worried for the U.S., hopeful that things are different this time and that racism, prejudice and bias are getting scrutinized beyond mere lip service, unsure how the protests will play out, and genuinely reeling from the first six months that 2020 has wrought.
Expats seem to carry with them an omnipresent sense of loss for not being on their home turf, for being far away from family, for always living their lives with one foot out the door or half of their minds dwelling on the past and future of a different geographical place; and yet at the same time they are always forced to identify with this displaced sense of self, as it is one of the first descriptive characteristics. "She's American"; "He's British". Interestingly, out here I am usually just "American" and not "Asian American," as my race takes a backseat to my nationality. In the U.S., I am rarely if ever just "American" and am almost always "Asian American." How funny then, that at a moment when I feel least like an American, I am still viewed most like one.
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