Michelle Zuo | The Chronicle
“Go back to your own country.”
It’s a phrase I’ve experienced, seen and heard immigrants and racial minorities face for the longest time. So this summer, I decided to do exactly that.
I went back to my own country.
That country was China, known for its futuristic cities and diverse cuisines. I had been to Chinatowns where the majority of people spoke Mandarin on the streets. It felt so different from my daily life; it felt more like “home.” So, I thought I’d feel an amplified version when going back to actual China.
But when I got to China, I was met with infinite signs that I couldn’t read, fast-paced roads and looks that something was off. In everyday life on the streets, pushing was mandatory because if you wait, you’ll never get a turn, which is just so different from the United States. The culture shock was more than overwhelming, and every day it made me miss my “boring old” Ohio.
The contrast between the two countries was so stark that when I got back to America, I started to notice parts of America that I never seen before. I felt like a ragdoll, tossed between two places; I couldn’t quite decide where I belonged more.
This is a dilemma I’ve heard from so many other children of immigrants that were raised or born in America. Especially in areas with little diversity regarding minorities, you don’t quite fit into the place you live in, yet you don’t fit in the place you’re “actually from.”
This is also why I never fully understood the insult of “go back to your own country.” I knew what the intent was, but where was my “own country”?
The answer to that is different for everyone. I still consider my “own country” as the United States. My body is accustomed to American-style foods over some foreign dishes in China, and I’ve developed etiquettes such as waiting in line or refraining from car honking because I’ve grown up in America.
However, the most important thing that I realized was that not knowing the answer to where you belong isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
I’m also fortunate to live in an area that allows for the creation of new cultures. In Mason, I relate to others who are also born in America and find more familiarity in it. This allows for a “fusion” between those two opposing cultures that I felt when I came to and back from China. There’s less of a divide between the whole “are you from this culture or the other,” the line between the two becomes blurrier.
This is why it’s crucial to have space for those kinds of camaraderies to form, especially in a country that is considered a “melting pot” of cultures. Places like Chinatown and International Districts create a shared space for those who were born in other countries and in the United States while also allowing others to experience a different culture without having to travel.
However, an important part of this “melting pot” is shared struggle. Every minority in America has faced discrimination and prejudice throughout history. But instead of combatting these issues together, it’s becoming more common for minorities to turn against each other.
In 2023, an Asian store owner named Rick Chow fatally shot 14 year-old Cyrus Belton after Belton allegedly stole from the store and pointed a handgun at Chow’s son. Chow was acquitted of his charges in the 2026 ruling after defense said that Chow acted out of self-defense. That summer, Black communities began to boycott Asian-owned businesses across America out of protest for Belton.
I also question the verdict of this case because of its muddy details. But, what I didn’t understand was why other Asian-owned businesses began to suffer. It’s essential to hold people like Rick Chow accountable, however, minorities turning on other minorities creates an even deeper divide in our society.
It’s these minority against minority situations, legislative decisions that suppress culture and modern day racism that makes it so much more difficult for people to find where they “truly belong.” When in truth, all of us are searching, and there’s no single correct answer. The reason why I felt so “at home” in Chinatown was because it resonated with my “American-born Chinese” identity. That community never existed until the cultures between America and Asian cultures fused together.
Which is why I encourage everyone regardless of ethnic upbringing to find the “in-between” of cultures. After all, we’ve all faced actions and words such as “go back to your own country.” So, perhaps realizing where we belong isn’t about picking an identity, it’s seeing that we were never made to fit into just one.
