"The Homeless International Student" by Ceres Adèle Ang

“Where are you from?” This inevitable question we hear so often in our lives as we relocate and meet new people is mostly innocent, its intent being a quick and easy way to get to know someone. But to international students, this innocence is lost in the deep breath we take before answering as we wonder what to say this time. We weigh our options, pivoting between the boring “It’s complicated” and the long “Well, I was born in X, but my parents are from Y and Z, and I feel more like Y, but have never lived there…”, which no one wants to hear. Not to mention the feeling of guilt when we take what should be the “easy” way out and name only one country in response to the formidable question, then immediately wonder if we should take it back to avoid giving a potential future friend the ‘wrong’ idea, or worse, disregarding one of our nationalities.

This multicultural experience may sound especially riveting to those who do not struggle with finding a response to the age-old question, but as an international college student, where belonging and home are remarkably prominent as we enter a new chapter, those four words are often dreaded.

Belonging, in the sense of feeling comfortable in an environment to the point where we are able to be our complete selves, is a familiar feeling to most of us. And, the one place we often associate with this sensation? Home. However, home is not necessarily a physical house – home is “where the heart is”. This means different things to all of us, though it can get extraordinarily complicated when one is able to get on an airplane and essentially “leave home to go home”.

The primary concern for students who grew up internationally is this: keeping home and the notion of belonging someplace close to our hearts during college, as this is essential in the face of change, but this becomes difficult when we do not have a singular country to call home. Missing home then becomes missing multiple countries, multiple neighbourhoods, multiple different families and sets of friends, and it’s impossible to call one home without having the other(s) in mind as well.

A friend of mine, who has spent his entire life in Germany but has a purely Indian heritage, was once able to encapsulate this feeling to me completely: “I am not Indian enough for my family in India, but not German enough to belong in Germany.” This was perhaps one of the premises I have related to most in life. “Living between the lines” is what I like to call it; I have two passports, two nationalities, two identities – but I’m not enough of either. In Germany I’m “the American”, and in the U.S. I’m “the German”, because people like undiscerningly telling you where you’re from.

Nevertheless, that same friend then added, “It’s like I’m from nowhere.” However much I understand what lies behind this sentence, I find it too pessimistic to be accurate. We are not from nowhere – we are from everywhere. As international people and students, we’re privileged enough to have been able to experience numerous places and cultures, and therefore have a certain perspective on the world that is not familiar to others, because we know what it means to live between the lines; between thoroughly distinct worlds.

Illustration by Kiyo

So where do we belong? We belong in the multitude of places that we are able to call home, but also imminently in the cracks between them. And where are we from? The short answer to that would be whichever places we feel have made us who we are – or do you want the long one?