Our birthday comes around once a year. Our birthday, that one day usually reminding us of another year gone by. Not all of us are keen on celebrating this so-called ‘special day‘.
I’m one of these people. Never have been keen on celebrating my birthday, which is coming up next week. Every year I try to keep this day as quiet as possible, going about the day as per normal and sort of forgetting that it’s my birthday.
Growing up in Singapore, Malaysia and Australia, this sentiment surrounded me in subtle and non-subtle ways. As a kid brought up in a traditional Chinese family, I never agreed with this train of thought. These days I still don’t.
Home. It sounds like a simple word to define. But it’s a word that has layers and layers of meanings.
For many migrants, third culture kids, parachute families, expats, travellers, interracial couples, refugees, asylum seekers, Asian Australians, Asian Americans, African communities, Indian diaporas and really anyone who has moved around or hangs around different cultural groups, home can be hard to define. Home can be more than one place.
Home is a place and all that space around us.
There’s always a personal connection to home and each of us understands home differently. What is ‘home’ to someone may not be ‘home’ to someone else.
It’s been five years since I started this blog. Five years of blogging about multiculturalism and cultural habits.
This blog started out as a place to put up articles I’ve written, articles knocked back by dozens of publications I pitched to. Today this blog is a space helping many around the world understand cultural differences.
I am a quiet person, preferring to lay low as opposed to shouting out every opinion. I was the Chinese Australian, Asian student in class who almost always never talked in class. In all honesty, I don’t mind being the quietest among a group of people.