Northbound and Southbound: A Dialogue on Identity After Migration
Identity is often not a topic we frequently discuss daily, yet it may quietly surface during certain stages of our life journey.Sometimes, we imagine the question "Who am I?" as a multiple-choice test with only one correct answer. We may even feel anxious trying to find that answer. But exploring identity is more like an ongoing journey without a predetermined destination—a dynamic reflection of ourselves as we move through life. Our sense of identity may shift through connections with others' life stories. It's not a fixed label, but rather the place we situate our narrative in the moment.Northbound Migration Sparks Shared Reflections on IdentityTen years ago, when I first came to Taipei to study, the constant drizzle and humid air gave me several serious colds, and I developed the habit of always carrying an umbrella. "Where are you from?" was a common icebreaker among classmates. "Lukang, from Changhua's Lukang," I would answer without thinking. The longer I stayed in Taipei, the deeper that answer felt. It became more than a reference to my birthplace—it was tied to my sense of belonging and cultural roots. Every day, things I once took for granted became reminders of difference or objects of longing: seafood as a staple in family meals, the familiarity of Lukang-accented Taiwanese.Sometimes, discussions about identity revolve around ethnic identity. Around the start of my university years, I became interested in migrant worker issues. Slowly, I began to resonate with my mother's experience—a marriage migrant who moved north to Taiwan and put down roots. A classroom screening of the documentary Brides was my first time seeing Taiwan's societal shifts through the eyes of migrant women. I was finally able to confront my mother's immigration and adaptation journey. What had been silent in my childhood was an extraordinary adventure. Migration and cultural differences had brought misunderstandings, prejudice, and family conflict, all of which deeply affected my upbringing. For nearly 20 years, I had no understanding of my mother's hometown, her language, or her migration story.Southbound Opens New Conversations About IdentitySoon after, Taiwan launched the New Southbound Policy. The migration backgrounds of immigrant families were suddenly recognized as rich sources of cultural diversity. More people began asking: What kind of identities do second-generation children from cross-national families develop? Do they all speak their immigrant parents' mother tongue? These changing social expectations were not always comfortable. Second-generation identity was sometimes reduced to a new kind of binary choice: dual identity. But not all second-generation individuals are closely connected to their parents' culture. For many, including myself, this raised self-doubt and a sense of complexity.Eventually, I returned to my mother's hometown and started learning Vietnamese. This gave me a chance to reconcile with memories of family conflict caused by cultural differences. Learning Vietnamese helped me grow closer to my mother. I still remember the first time I tried to speak Vietnamese with her—she was both surprised and delighted. It was my way of expressing care. Amusingly, my northern-accented Vietnamese was hard for my grandmother in Saigon to understand! But even with basic language skills, I still couldn't answer friends' questions about authentic Vietnamese travel tips—I had never really lived there.Listening to other second-generation stories made me realize that identity is not something you can fully figure out overnight. It's a process of ongoing exploration and reinterpretation. We're not simply caught between two cultures. We're collectors, piecing together memories, emotions, and language. Every conversation about family, language learning, or cultural misunderstandings helps us reshape who we are. For me, identity is not just a personal journey—it's an invitation for dialogue and mutual understanding.What helped me feel at ease with identity was joining second-generation meetups and reading submissions to the "Second-Gen Voices" column. There, I discovered the lives of others like me and began seeking resonance in our differences. Many second-gen youth, raised in Mandarin-speaking environments, only reconnected with their parents' languages after reflecting on migration and identity. Others shared experiences of being the eldest sibling, helping raise younger siblings, and mediating family tensions. These are common across many Taiwanese families, but with a migrant background, we often take on the added role of cultural translator. As second-generation children, we are also comrades in our family's migration journey.Second-generation youth are part of Taiwan's cultural diversity. But when discussing their identities, it's important to remember that they are individuals, each with different backgrounds and experiences. A second-gen person might also come from an old local family. Each has its timeline and rhythm. The value of identity lies in understanding these differences and recognizing the rich, multifaceted people behind each cultural label.
