MS Literary Magazine 2015

Home

Stepping into the cold train, my fingers grasped around the cool metal poles to steady myself as the train launched forward. I glanced at the people around me. Most were preoccupied with smart phones in their hands, tapping on the screens every so often. I felt my phone begin to vibrate from inside of my bag. My hand fumbled around, clasping my fingers around my phone once I had found it. I tapped on the green “answer” button and brought the sleek device up to my ear.

“Hello?” I spoke.

All eyes were on me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my place as I stood. Looking up from the ground, I studied the expressions on people’s faces. The expressions on their faces were difficult to read. Some seemed confused, some seemed astonished, and some baffled. I had already begun to decipher the reasoning behind their stares. At that specific moment, I realized that I had obviously been judged by my appearance. I looked as though I were someone who lived there; someone who spoke their language. However, that wasn’t the case. I didn’t speak their language fluently although I was half Korean. I tried my hardest to ignore the looks that I was receiving because it didn’t matter to me what other people assumed was the country in which I was from. It was clear to me that the preconceived ideas that others had about my nationality weren’t the truth. The reality was that the answer to the question “Where do you come from?” was not a simple task for me. Although my appearance made it evident that I was Korean or Chinese, I felt isolated in a sense, separated and secluded from everyone else. I felt like a foreigner. I knew that although I had always understood that being Korean was part of my ethnicity, I suddenly didn’t feel like it truly was a part of it at all, even though it was.

The more I think about this topic, the more I find myself questioning where it is that I come from. I have found myself in multiple situations desperately trying to attain a simple answer. After reflecting on this for a long while, realization hit me slowly but surely. I had spent countless moments contemplating the answer to that specific question when really, the question that matters to me even more is “Where is your home?”. This past summer, I’ve noticed something that I haven’t payed much attention to before. Only recently have I acquired the realization of where my home truly is. For a long time I have felt as though I was Korean, I was just like everyone else who lived there. But during the summer of this year, I began to feel differently about my surroundings in Korea. I began feeling less like them and more like an outsider.

Taking a seat on the MRT in Singapore has never been an uncomfortable experience for me. Not once have I received confused glances and stares. The diversity of cultures and different nationalities in Singapore has made it a much more comfortable experience living here. Despite me being able to call Singapore my home simply because I was born here, my definition of home is distinctive from others. I don’t call it home because I was born here, or because I've lived here my entire life, but because it is the place where I truly feel that I belong, and have belonged for years.

One of the most challenging questions that I have been required to answer numerous times throughout my life is “Where are you from?”. Despite not knowing exactly how to answer the question, I am still able to determine where my home is. My home is the place where I become myself. It’s the place where I feel most comfortable and the most content. Regardless of not knowing where I come from, I know exactly where my home is, and that place is Singapore.