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I’m flying home to Newfoundland for Christmas, for the first time since leaving home. I had a layover in Ottawa, and after many delays, I’m finally on the way home to St. John’s. I find myself seated next to an older woman - she strikes up a conversation with me. I learn that she lives in Ottawa, but grew up in St. John’s, and like me, is going home for the holidays.

She then starts asking about my life. I explained to her that I also grew up in St. John’s, but my parents were born in China.

Then she asks, “Do you consider yourself a Newfoundlander?”

I’ve always had trouble solidifying my identity. I was born in the United States, to Chinese parents who studied there. But at the age of three, my dad was offered a professorship after years of searching - but not in the US, in Canada. So to Canada I went.

In 2010, I arrived with my parents in St. John’s, Newfoundland. Though I don’t know exact numbers, I can safely say that I grew up around very few Chinese people. The Chinese community in Newfoundland is very small, and many, when given the opportunity, leave for the Greater Toronto Area, to be around a bigger Chinese community.

Growing up in such an environment definitely had a huge impact on the way I am today. From a young age, when I wasn’t with my parents, I was in a distinctively non-Chinese environment, in daycares, in school, in afterschool programs. I learned to eat with forks and spoons, I learned manners in English - I learned how to be a human in English.

So when I was asked if I was a Newfoundlander, I thought, yes, I was. I grew up around Newfoundlanders. What didn’t make me one? So I thought.

In elementary school, we would learn about Newfoundland traditions - ugly sticks, fishing, kitchen parties - and I knew all about it! But when I went home to ask my parents about these things, they would tell me they had no idea what I was talking about! And of course - why would they? They had little connection to the province. So while I knew in theory what Newfoundland culture was, I never truly experienced it. At the end of the day, I grew up in a Chinese household - just one surrounded by a non-Chinese culture.

Sometimes, I feel that because of this, I never got a complete picture of either. Take for example, the question of what my first language is. I always have to think. Technically, it’s Mandarin. Though I was born in the United States, I spent the majority of the first two years of my life living with my Mandarin-speaking parents and grandparents in China.

That said, when I started daycare and then school, my chance to practice and learn Chinese diminished, and English slowly became my dominant language. But can I say English is my first language? Sometimes I say to people, English technically isn’t my first language, but it is my dominant language.

But even that statement is something I’ve thought about. Though I can read and communicate in English at a very high level, in some ways, I feel I’m more comfortable in Mandarin.

English is the language I use for the outer world - for teachers, in stores, at school - but with the people I’m closest with - my family and my friends - I predominantly use Mandarin. In Mandarin, I feel so much more comfortable using certain phrases and concepts with these people, and often I will say things I would never say in English because there’s so few people I would be willing to use these phrases with in English.

In fact, my parents have always told me that when I speak English, to them, I don’t sound like a native speaker - unlike my brother, who is much younger and was born and raised inNewfoundland.

That doesn’t mean Mandarin is my primary language either. I recently travelled to China alone for the first time, and that was one of the most difficult experiences I had in terms of language. My lack of complex vocabulary (and essential illiteracy) had me overthinking every interaction, even some of which I was clearly capable of handling.

My experience with languages reflects my experience overall with my identity. What should I call myself? Am I a Newfoundlander? Chinese? Am I enough of either? Maybe I can say, “I’m Chinese-Canadian.”

I began my studies last fall at the University of Waterloo. UW hosts a significant student population of Chinese descent, many being students who grew up in the Greater Toronto Area.

I felt that when I began university, I saw a new type of person - though many of these students, like me, grew up Chinese-Canadian, they grew up in a community that was large enough so that if they (or their families) wanted, they could only be around other Chinese-Canadians. At times, it seemed like I was meeting people from a completely different culture.

As an example, Christmas was ubiquitous for me growing up. All my friends around me celebrated it, and my parents saw no reason to refuse to let me celebrate it too. Talking to many Chinese-Canadian students from the GTA, I learned that Christmas just wasn’t a big deal; their family didn’t celebrate it, their friend’s families didn’t really celebrate it… it was just some holiday where they got a long break.

Since arriving here, when I go out, I eat with chopsticks. I’m not used to it, but I don’t want people to think I’m not Chinese enough, when all of the Chinese-Canadians from the GTA use them. At home, I still stick with forks and knives.

So then I questioned if I could even call myself Chinese-Canadian. Am I even Chinese-Canadian enough to be Chinese-Canadian?

I tell the lady on the plane, “Yes, I think I am a Newfoundlander.”

She laughs a little to herself, but then she thinks. “Well I suppose you have to, you couldn’t really consider yourself Chinese.” But I can tell that she doesn’t believe that I’m a Newfoundlander either.

Maybe she’s right. But does it mean I don’t have an identity? No.