What happens when you grow up between two cultures and never fully belong to either? As a 1.5 generation Southeast Asian immigrant, I came to the United States as a child. I was young enough to adapt, but old enough to remember what I left behind. My identity has always lived in the space between.
Too American for My Heritage, Too Foreign for America
Growing up in the United States, people often asked, “Where are you from?”. If you have heard this one before, then you would already know that they did not mean my city or my neighborhood. They mean they do not see me as American. It does not matter that I speak fluent English. It does not matter that I grew up with the same media, music, or slang. My face often speaks before I do.
But within my own Southeast Asian community, I have also felt out of place. My Thai gets corrected occasionally. My sense of style is too loud. Sometimes I forget the customs. I am told I am too American, as if that is a betrayal rather than a reality I never chose.
This is what it feels like to be caught in the middle. You are always aware that your identity is being measured.
What It Means to Be 1.5 Generation
Being a 1.5 generation immigrant means you are the in-between. You carry your parents’ hopes in one hand and the pressure to assimilate in the other. I have been the translator, the first to navigate systems, the one who explains how things work on both sides. I am expected to know, to bridge, to succeed, and to never forget where I came from. I became skilled at switching languages, tones, and even personalities. I read the room. I adjusted. I softened. I tried to make everyone around me comfortable. I wanted to belong everywhere. But often, I felt like I belonged nowhere.
Being a 1.5 generation immigrant means you live with a split in your soul that you did not ask for. You are the child of two worlds, expected to carry the weight of both. This is more than just a cultural inconvenience. It is the result of colonization, war, displacement, and economic systems that push families to uproot in search of safety or survival. We do not choose this fracture. It is chosen for us. And still, we are the ones who hold the pieces together.
We become translators for our parents and families. We become cultural brokers. We are told to assimilate, but never too much. We are asked to honor our culture, but only in ways that do not make others uncomfortable. We are expected to represent our people with pride, but without complaint.
Living in this duality is exhausting. But it is also powerful. Because those of us who exist between can see things others cannot. We know how systems work and who they are built for. We know how to shift and code-switch and survive. That adaptability is not just a burden. It is a skill rooted in ancestral wisdom.
Liberation for us begins when we name the tension for what it is. It begins when we stop trying to fit and start asking why the structures around us were never made to hold us in the first place. It begins when we decide that our existence is not a problem to solve but a truth to honor.
The Gift I Resisted, The Roots I Needed
Growing up, I spent every Sunday in Thai language school. I learned the language, culture, and customs. I remember dragging my feet. I complained. I wanted to be like my “American” classmates who had weekends off.
But in hindsight, that experience was a lifeline.
Sunday school gave me more than words or etiquette. It gave me access to something deeper: the stories, rituals, and worldview of my ancestors. It gave me a spiritual and cultural grounding that whiteness could never take away. It reminded me that I come from people with rich traditions, resilience, and community.
This is not just nostalgia. This is resistance.
Learning our language and culture is a way to reject assimilation as the only path. It is a way to say, “I will not forget who I am to be accepted by a system that never accepted me in the first place”.
For readers who feel disconnected from their roots, know this: it is never too late to come home to yourself. You do not have to speak fluently or follow every tradition perfectly to reclaim your heritage. Try starting with a few of these steps:
- Learn one new word a week in your ancestral language.
- Cook a meal your elders made and ask about its origins.
- Listen to music from your family’s country of origin and let it speak to you.
- Light a candle and say the names of those who came before you.
- Practice honoring the culture on your own terms, not through perfection but through intention.
Cultural reclamation is a liberation practice. It is not about performing for others. It is about coming back to yourself.
A Growing Fear in a Changing America
The political climate in the United States has changed. And not quietly.
Policies and rhetoric have targeted immigrants and people of color with increasing intensity. From travel bans to surveillance to the criminalization of migration, the message is clear: some people are more welcome than others. Fear has crept into our communities. Even those of us who are citizens feel the chill of being treated as conditional Americans.
When my family immigrated in the 1990s, America was spoken of as the land of opportunity. Our parents came here believing that if we worked hard, we would find safety and stability. We would belong.
Now, in my thirties, I find myself asking if this country ever really wanted us here at all.
That grief is real. It is not just personal. It is collective. It is historical.
But here is the truth: we have always resisted. Our ancestors have survived colonization, empire, war, and displacement. They carried us here with hope in their hearts and fire in their bones.
We owe it to them (and to ourselves) to continue that resistance.
To resist erasure by telling our stories.
To resist assimilation by reclaiming our culture.
To resist white supremacy by building community with others who live in the margins.
To resist silence by speaking out, voting, organizing, and supporting community-led movements.
Liberation begins with belonging. Belonging that is not given by systems, but reclaimed by us.
You Are Not Alone in This Experience
If you are a 1.5 generation immigrant, or if you have ever felt too much or not enough for the cultures you carry, you are not alone.
You are not failing to belong.
You are unlearning the false belief that belonging must be earned.
You are sacred.
You are whole.
You are the living continuation of generations who refused to disappear.
Belonging Is Your Birthright. You do not need to prove your worth to matter. You already belong.
You belong to your ancestors.
You belong to your community.
You belong to yourself.