Every time someone asks me, “Where are you from? Did you say Thailand?” I’m reminded that my home is still unfamiliar to many here.

Although I usually just reply, “I’m from  Taiwan,”  that  answer  only scratches the surface of my identity. Growing up in the city of Taipei, I was surrounded by people who looked like me, spoke my language, and shared my traditions. It’s rare for anyone to attend a boarding school in the U.S. In eighth grade, I didn’t dream about leaving—until I did.

It took courage to say I wanted something  completely  different from home—something that would pull me far away from my family and friends. Moving abroad meant more than just meeting new people. It  meant  sacrificing  comfort,  my favorite  foods,  and  small  parts of  myself.  It  meant  living  with the constant feeling of being “in between”—never  fully  American, and not fully Taiwanese either.

At first, being at Hotchkiss was like  trying  to  learn  a  language without  a  dictionary.  Only  three students, including me, were from Taiwan. I was one of very few who could truly understand what it felt like to be caught between America and Taiwan. My peers around me seemed to blend in so seamlessly—I always felt I was a step behind.

So many things about me have shifted. Now, I wear clothes that feel more American than Asian. I catch myself forgetting words in Chinese and sometimes feel awkward about traditions I used to take for granted.

Living  between  America  and Taiwan isn’t just about pride; it’s about recognizing the courage and sacrifice that comes with leaving home. Every May, during AAPI Month, Hotchkiss celebrates Asian cultures. But in the midst of the cheerful celebrations, I also have the bittersweet feeling of becoming someone  new  while  trying  not to forget who I was. I miss the conversations I had after school each day with my parents, the heavenly aroma of homemade noodle soup and braised minced pork filling my kitchen, the bustling night markets I would visit every weekend.

Sometimes I wonder:  which culture  am  I  really  celebrating during AAPI Month? The one I was born into or the new version that’s being shaped here today? AAPI Month should not just celebrate where we come from, but also uplift the voices that add to our cultures, and help those who start out with few familiar faces feel proud of who they have become.

Even though there isn’t a large Taiwanese community at Hotchkiss, I’ve come to realize that’s exactly why it matters for me to be here. Being  one  of  the  few Taiwanese Bearcats doesn’t make me feel small anymore,  but  proud.  Every  time I share a piece of my culture with my friends, whether it’s the night markets, food, or Taiwanese slang, I feel like I’m carrying a piece of home with me.

Now when someone asks me, “Did you say you’re from Thailand?” I just laugh a little, shake my head, and say, “No, I’m from Taiwan—small island, big heart.”