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Careers / Cross-cultural / Professional Identity / Story

Navigating the Third Space: What International Professionals Need to Know About Working Across Borders

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Building a Career Between Worlds: Understanding Third Culture Identity and Cross-Border Professional Life

A few days ago, I shared on LinkedIn about my recent trip to Singapore. I reflected on becoming “more foreign than local” in my birthplace, and the uncomfortable reality of existing in what I call the “third space” of international professionals.

That post got me thinking more deeply about this experience. I wasn’t just downloading post-holiday emotions, but I was describing something that many international professionals experience but rarely articulate in everyday conversation.

This article is an exploration of that third space: what it means, why it matters, and why I believe these stories need to be shared more openly. And at the end, I’ll share how you can be part of creating that space for honest conversation.

What is the Third Space? Understanding Third Culture Identity for Global Professionals

The Third Space is a theory attributed to Homi K. Bhabha and defined in his book The Location of Culture (1994). A Third Space is an undefined middle ground where people actively negotiate cultural meanings, producing identities that are fluid and continually evolving.

Nodes and lines forming triangles superimposed on speech bubbles
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

I’ve made several trips back home to Singapore since leaving the country to start life afresh in New Zealand more than 10 years ago. Each trip brought back different memories and emotions. This particular trip centred around spending time with family and attending to personal matters and family responsibilities. In short, it felt like a working holiday with strings attached. I don’t think I can truly behave or feel like a tourist in my home country, but at the same time, it was becoming less intuitive and comfortable than before.

One particular incident stood out as an example of negotiating cultural meanings in this third space.

A Real Example: Navigating Cultural Expectations as an International Professional

I was catching up with a friend near their workplace and they introduced me to their colleagues who were nearby. It started off as a friendly exchange of self-introductions and they were naturally curious about my life in New Zealand. In such conversations, I find myself pointing out what I enjoy about living and working in New Zealand, but also highlighting how I miss certain things in Singapore like the food, convenience and efficiency. Now that I talk about it, it feels like a natural script where you present a balanced view so as not to appear you’ve got the good life and they haven’t. Then came a response I didn’t expect, or perhaps should have expected: “But you’re coming back home to Singapore, right?”

I paused. Missed a beat. Then said:

“Well, for now New Zealand is home.” Followed by light laughter all around.

What I wanted to say, but didn’t think it good manners to elaborate with acquaintances, was this:

“Why is it so important for you that I return to Singapore? What does it matter to you if I did or didn’t? Would you like me less if I said ‘never in a million years’ or like me more if I said ‘for sure, can’t wait to return home for good’?”

And when I think back to what I said, it was a mix of truth and face-saving. It is true that at present, New Zealand is my home, where I live, work and have community. And it is true that I cannot say this will be the case in the future because it is unseen and more importantly, uncertain. But equally true is the fact that I needed a response to counter the proposition that I was surely going to return to my home country without the indignation of having the notion of loyalty and national pride rolled up in one fat presumption.

(Pardon my words—I’m a poet after all.)

In other words, I needed a credible response without making a big deal out of it and still entertain the notion that I could return, just not on their terms!

Funny how a couple of seconds of small talk exploded into a soul-searching exercise within me.

The Expectation to “Return Home”: A Common Challenge for Migrant Professionals

And when I think back to various conversations with close friends and relatives, there I found it again: an expectation that I will return and my response of possibility. To be clear, I often think about the possibility of returning ‘home’ and different scenarios leading to that. But it is the default position and expectation of my Singaporean friends and family that truly unnerves me.

Sunset backdrop with two silhouettes in foreground
Image by Arifur Rahman from Pixabay

In New Zealand, I rarely have conversations with others about ‘going back home’ because I’m not a visitor and have a very full and settled life in this country! But when I think back to the process of getting where I am today, and even in more recent memory, there were notable occasions where ‘going back home’ or being singled out as foreign was the response.

When I was doing my PhD and asking about career pathways: “Oh, you want to stay and work here?”

When I asked the secondhand shop owner where the violin was made: “Where you’re from.”

When asked by the motel owner where I was from and I said Wellington: “No, where are you really from?”

And on many of those occasions came my face-saving meek sounding laughter, somehow saying, ah ha, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not okay, but I don’t want to turn this into an awkward situation and cause myself any more discomfort.

Like the light laughter I dispensed when positioned as a patriotic daughter of my homeland.

A defense mechanism that perhaps perpetuates the presumption and attitudes, but also saves me from having to launch into a tirade that would be further misunderstood and mess up the social order of conversation (which by the way is a real thing according to Conversation Analysis, a theoretical framework I used to analyse chat messages between peers in my PhD).

Why the Third Space Matters for International Career Success

Because everyday conversation tends to be polite or follow convention.

Because it is risky to try to defend your own cultural status to a relative stranger.

Because matters of self-identity and the process of identity making are complex.

We need a space to work all of this out, and the Third Space holds room for discomfort and discovery.

The Third Space Comes Alive When:

  • You recognise that you are in a liminal zone of sociocultural realities
  • You participate in a tug of war of loyalties and self-disclosure
  • You translate between worlds about religious and cultural traditions
  • You struggle and try to make peace with incidents and emotions that linger on your consciousness
  • You want to work out who you really are and where you really belong behind the multiple identities, hybrid accent, and the undeniable color of your skin

It’s not a problem to solve. It’s a reality to understand and navigate.

The Hidden Challenges of Building an International Career

And here’s what I know from a decade of working with international professionals—expatriates, international students, migrant professionals: we rarely talk about this experience honestly. When is ever the right time or place to discuss the messy, complicated reality of living between worlds? That stays private, unspoken, often unacknowledged even to ourselves.

Woman placing finger over closed lips
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash

Common Experiences International Professionals Face (But Rarely Discuss):

  • The paralysis of imposter syndrome when your credentials aren’t immediately recognised
  • The exhaustion of code-switching between cultural communication styles
  • The grief of missing weddings, funerals, and the everyday moments of family life
  • The invisible labour of maintaining professional and personal networks across time zones
  • The courage it takes to keep rebuilding, again and again
  • The quiet moments of wondering: “Where is home? Who am I now?”

These are the experiences that live in the third space. The tensions that sit uncomfortably in your belly. The emotions you can’t quite explain to people who’ve only ever lived in one place. The complexity that doesn’t fit into simple narratives about “international careers.”

If you’re navigating a career and life across cultures, borders, and systems, you’re not imagining this complexity. Those emotions? They’re real. And they matter.

Why International Professionals Need to Share Their Stories

When I was planning my move from Singapore to New Zealand, I devoured every resource I could find about immigration processes, job search strategies, and credential recognition. What I couldn’t find were the stories I actually needed—the ones about navigating the third space:

The Questions That Really Matter for International Career Transitions:

  • How do you maintain your sense of professional identity when you’re starting over?
  • What does it feel like when you’re overqualified on paper but underemployed in practice?
  • How do you build a career when your network is 10,000 kilometers away?
  • When does it start feeling like home?
  • How do you reconcile the person you were “there” with the person you’re becoming “here”?

The practical information is important. But understanding the emotional and psychological journey—the reality of existing in the third space—that’s just as important, if not even more so, when we want to thrive, not merely survive as international professionals.

Yet these stories remain largely untold. We share them in quiet conversations with other international professionals, in late-night messages to friends who “get it.” But publicly? We stick to the polished narratives.

I believe we need to change that.

Not because everyone’s story needs to be public. But because those of us willing to share can create understanding, validation, and support for international professionals navigating this journey.

When we openly discuss the reality of the third space—the tensions, the growth, the complexity—we give others permission to acknowledge their own experiences. We create community where there was isolation. We transform individual struggles into collective wisdom.

That’s why I’m creating a space for these conversations: The International Career Journey Podcast, a podcast dedicated to the authentic experiences of professionals who’ve crossed borders to build their careers.

Introducing: The International Career Journey Podcast

A podcast for professionals navigating careers across borders—from anywhere, to anywhere.

I want to have honest, in-depth conversations with international professionals about their journeys. About the visa rejections, the cultural misunderstandings, the career setbacks, the identity questions, and yes, the eventual breakthroughs and growth. I hope to interview people in the next few months and launch the podcast in the second half of 2026.

Retro microphone on a table with festive bokeh lights. A vintage-style microphone placed on a wooden table with warm bokeh lights.
AI generated image from Pixabay

What Makes This International Career Podcast Different

This isn’t about celebrating “success stories” or promoting the myth that international careers are all adventure and opportunity. It’s about the full, honest journey:

  • Real challenges faced and how they were overcome (or not)
  • Cultural adaptation in workplace contexts
  • Career progression strategies across borders
  • The emotional and identity aspects of international work
  • Practical insights other professionals can actually use
  • The question we’re all navigating: what does “home” mean when you’ve lived in multiple places?

The Format: Intimate, Honest Conversations About Global Careers

Each episode is approximately 30 minutes—long enough for depth, short enough for your commute. The structure is conversational, not scripted. I’ll ask the questions I wish I had the answers to before I made my international career move:

  • What surprised you most about working in [country]?
  • Tell me about a moment when you felt completely out of your depth
  • How has your sense of identity evolved?
  • What do you wish you’d known before you moved?
  • When did it start feeling less foreign?

Looking for Season 1 Podcast Guests (Recording March-May 2026)

Here’s where I need your help.

If you’re a professional with an international career story, I want to hear from you. Your story doesn’t need to be dramatic or “successful” by conventional measures. It just needs to be real.

Who I’m Looking For: 7 Types of International Professional Stories

1) The New Arrival

You relocated to a new country for work and have been there 2+ years. You’ve navigated the visa process, job search, and cultural adaptation. You have fresh insights about building a career in a new country.

2) The Migrant Professional

You grew up or studied in one country and moved to another for work. You’re more or less settled in your new country and have 5+ years work experience. You’ve navigated the transition from familiar to foreign and can speak to the opportunities and challenges of ‘starting all over’.

3) The Serial Mover

You’ve worked in 3+ countries across different regions. You’ve built a truly global career spanning continents. You understand the art of professional reinvention across borders and have strategies for maintaining career momentum while moving.

4) The Returner

You left your home country to work overseas and have since returned. You can share insights on reverse culture shock, reintegration, and what it’s like to go “home” after years away.

5) The Cross-Border Remote Worker

You work remotely for international companies or clients. You’ve navigated the tax, legal, and practical challenges of working across borders while potentially living in multiple locations.

6) The Aspiring International Professional

You’re actively preparing to work in another country. You’re in the research, application, or planning phase. You can share your preparation journey and what you’re learning.

7) The Support Professional

You work in organisational or consultant roles supporting international career transitions. Examples: global mobility specialists, HR professionals managing relocations, immigration advisors. You have behind-the-scenes insights to share.

Why Share Your International Career Story?

The interview process is surprisingly valuable for reflection on your journey and growth. And your story could be exactly what someone needs to hear to make their next brave move—or to simply feel less alone in their current challenges. By sharing your personal insights, you’re contributing something valuable to a global community.

Or Do You Know Someone With a Great International Career Story?

Share this article with them. Tag someone who should be a guest. Help me find the voices that need to be heard.

What’s Involved: Podcast Details

  • 30-minute Zoom conversation (conversational, not formal)
  • No special equipment needed
  • Recording: March – May 2026
  • Season 1 Launch: Second half of 2026

How to Apply to Be a Podcast Guest

If you’re interested in being a guest, please complete this application form: https://forms.gle/jPX4srS6itf3BRn26

I’ll review all applications and respond within 5-7 business days.

Application Deadline: 28 February 2026

Stay Connected: Subscribe for Updates on International Career Insights

Want to stay updated?
Subscribe to my newsletter International Career Journey on LinkedIn or Substack. Subscribe for podcast updates, guest features, and reflections on international career journeys.

Or follow me on:

Have questions?
Leave or comment or send me a direct message. I’d love to hear from you.

Frequently Asked Questions About Being a Podcast Guest

Q: I’m not “successful enough” or “expert enough.” Can I still apply?

A: Yes! I’m looking for real, authentic stories—not just success stories. If you’re navigating an international career journey and have insights to share, you’re qualified. Some of the most valuable episodes will be from people still figuring things out.

Q: I have a strong accent or English isn’t my first language. Is that okay?

A: Absolutely. Your perspective is valuable regardless of accent. This podcast celebrates diversity. As long as you can communicate your experiences clearly, your voice deserves to be heard.

Q: What if I’m nervous about being recorded?

A: Totally normal! The conversation is relaxed and conversational—I’ll guide you through it. You can practice beforehand, and you’ll get to preview the episode before it’s published. Just think of the interview like a conversation with a friend.

Q: Can I talk about my business or services?

A: This podcast focuses on professional career journeys, not business promotion. You’re welcome to mention your current role and company in your introduction, but the conversation centers on your international career experiences and insights—not marketing services. Your LinkedIn profile and brief bio will be shared on the episode page.

Q: I have a unique situation that doesn’t fit the profiles exactly. Can I still apply?

A: Yes! The profiles are guidelines. If you have an international professional career story worth sharing, I want to hear it.

Q: What if my schedule changes and I need to reschedule?

A: Life happens! Just let me know as soon as possible and we’ll find another time that works.

Q: Will this be video or just audio?

A: Both. We’ll record a video via Zoom and the podcast will be shared on YouTube and audio-only podcast channels like Spotify.

About the Host: Dr Sherrie Lee

I am a career coach for international professionals. I’m born in Singapore, based in New Zealand, living in the Third Space. With over a decade of experience working with international professionals—expatriates, international students, and migrant professionals—I understand the unique challenges of building careers across borders because I’ve lived it myself. Through my career coaching work and this newsletter, International Career Journey, I help professionals navigate the third space and transform cross-cultural complexity into career strength.


Podcast (launching second half of 2026): The International Career Journey Podcast

Careers / Cross-cultural

How NOT to be a Migrant

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Image by Jan from Pixabay

In the past few years, I’ve written about my journey with labels: Living and Thriving with Labels and Don’t call me Migrant or Asian but who do you say I am? In a generous reading of a label like ‘migrant’, you could say it is a convenient shorthand that points people to specific information and services, and allows people to quickly adjust how they engage with the subject matter or people who identify as migrant. You might even say ‘migrant’ encourages feelings of empathy and curiosity. In a less sanguine light, ‘migrant’ perpetuates the tropes in our public consciousness – the yellow/brown/black skinned person who is struggling in a white world, who overcomes the odds to be one of them, overachieves but stays humble and grateful.

Continue reading “How NOT to be a Migrant”

Cross-cultural

The Diasporic Resident

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What happened to the Diasporic Academic?

Almost 5 years ago, I re-named my blogging website ‘The Diasporic Academic’, inspired by a keynote presentation given by Wendy Larner at a conference on international education held in Wellington. A diasporic academic by her definition was someone with multiple national affiliations, for example, a researcher from one country based in another country working on a project, or travelling between countries for research purposes, and at the same time, having a role as an intermediary between cultures, for example, translating from one language to another, or providing a culturally nuanced interpretation of things. (To dig deeper into the concept of diasporic academics, I highly recommend reading Larner’s 2015 paper on which the keynote presentation was based, as well as a 2020 book chapter I co-authored with a fellow diasporic academic.)

No doubt I’ve long left my academic ambitions at the door of the once enamoured institution called a university, but my academic sense making and inquiry has been put to good use in my public sector career – demanding clarity in policy definitions, looking for evidence to support claims, assessing the value of outputs and interpreting the validity of outcomes. So I’m proud to say that the ‘academic’ part of my identity has taken on a new form, that of a conscientious public servant.

In terms of living out my ‘diasporic’ potential, it has been an interesting journey through the professional and personal contexts of living and working in Aotearoa New Zealand. Being visibly and audibly different from the ‘European norm’ of everyday affairs, I’ve gone through various degrees of identity crises or conscious raising moments. It has made me become more sensitive to social and cultural assumptions, both my own and those around me, and often wonder about what actually goes on in people’s heads when they have an intercultural interaction. We probably assume ‘nothing’ until a word or gesture prompts an ‘aha’ response. Or we might be deliberate about discovering differences and similarities if we actually talk about cultural differences with genuine interest and respect – and how rare is that!

Let’s talk about names – a diasporic reflection

One of the common assumptions we make is people’s names.

Your name is something you take for granted. You know what it is, the variations in different contexts, how you like to be addressed, how you don’t like to be addressed, what is acceptable and welcomed banter, and what is offensive or inappropriate. To illustrate, I’ll start with the ‘Western’ name, that is, one with a first name, middle name, and a family name: Elizabeth Bennett Brown, an officially recorded name.

If we know or assume that the person is single, officially we would address the person as ‘Miss Brown’. Friends might call the person ‘Liz’ or ‘Lizzy’ or ‘Beth’. When using the name in a professional context, the name could be written simply as ‘Elizabeth Brown’, and perhaps even ‘Lizzy Brown’ if that has been the version used over time or could even be a personal brand that warrants formal usage. If the person was married, we’d say hello to ‘Mrs Brown’ and perhaps infer that ‘Bennett’ was her maiden family name. Or maybe ‘Bennett’ was her actual middle name and her maiden family name is buried in school photos and the like. This is how the office, banks, schools, and various institutions would likely respond to the person with the name of ‘Elizabeth Bennett Brown’.

Now compare this with an officially recorded name of a Chinese Singaporean woman: Lim Bee Choo, Maureen. Lim = family name, Bee Choo, Maureen = given names. ‘Lim Bee Choo’ is the the romanised rendition of the Chinese name based on the dialect group of the person (in this case, Hokkien), ie, it is rendered as it is spoken, as opposed to how the Chinese character would be spoken in standard Mandarin (in this case, ‘林’ pronounced ‘Lin’). Maureen is the given English name. It’s quite common for a Chinese Singaporean to have an English name, and by that I mean a name that is given by the parents, recorded at birth, not a name taken at a later age in life. (Something that can be attributed to Singapore being a former British Colony but of course more complex than that, and maybe something to ruminate on later.)

As this is the person’s officially recorded name, we can assume this is the maiden name. If the person were married and wanted her married name officially recorded (eg, on the national identity card), the most common option would be to apply to have the married name added as an alias. This means the person’s maiden name is the principal name, and by default, the official name. Replacing your maiden name with a married name on an official identity document needs to be done by executing a Change of Name Deed Poll. (It’s extra work and costs money so I’ve yet to know of any married female friends who have done so.)

You could use your married name in other contexts (eg, professional name), and be known as Mrs Maureen Goh. Or to just indicate you’re not single (or to be ambiguous about it), Ms Maureen Lim. (In my mother’s generation, it was common to use your married by simply adding ‘Mrs’ in front of their husband’s name. So if Lim Bee Choo, Maureen married Tan Soo Teck, David, her married name could be Mrs Tan Soo Teck, David, or Mrs David Tan.)

To address Lim Bee Choo, Maureen (married or not) in less formal settings, family might call her ‘Bee Choo’ or ‘Choo’, or ‘Ah Choo’; her peers would call her ‘Maureen’, and would be professionally known as ‘Maureen Lim’, although school communications to parents would list her as Mrs Goh. (Note: I found a very helpful resource on Singapore naming conventions and culture, which also has similar entries for other countries and cultures. Absolutely worth reading if you regularly interact with friends or business associates from non-Western backgrounds.)

If Maureen had to list her official name on documents from the ‘Western world’, she would be careful to list ‘Lim’ as her family name, ‘Bee Choo, Maureen’ as given names. If she was forced to choose single names to fit the given categories, her name might be recorded as: Family Name – Lim; Middle Name – Bee; Given Name – Choo; Preferred Name: Maureen. Automated letters drawing from the categories would simply address her as ‘Choo Lim’, and if it were recorded that she was married, ‘Mrs Choo Lim’. ‘Maureen Lim’, as she was commonly addressed and acknowledged in Singapore, would have an automatic identity makeover in New Zealand.

The Inciting Incident

I love the concept of the inciting incident in film and novels: the event that sets the main character on the journey that will occupy them throughout the narrative. Like how Biff calls Marty McFly ‘chicken’ in Back to the Future, triggering Marty to react with determination to put Biff in his place, keenly aware of how his father was a pushover, an easy target for bullies.

Just like how inciting incidents upset the balance within the main character’s world, inciting incidents in my life in New Zealand have made me question why the people around me held the assumptions they did, and why I reacted the way I did. These inciting incidents have touched on deeply personal things such as my name, the colour of my skin and hair, and my customs. And nothing gets me going more than inciting incidents about my name, the most common inciting incidents of them all.

Imagine Elizabeth Bennett Brown, Lim Bee Choo, Maureen, and myself found ourselves in conversation during tea break at a business seminar in Auckland, and our name tags reflected our names as follows: Lizzy Brown; Choo Bee Lim; Sherrie Lee. Our imaginary (and all too real) conversation could go like this:

SHERRIE LEE
Hi, (reading name tag) Choo Bee, I’m Sherrie (SHAIR-ree).

CHOO BEE LIM
Oh, it’s actually Bee Choo, long story about computer systems, …

SHERRIE LEE
No, I get it! Of course, you’re Bee Choo! (laughs). And you’re either from Malaysia or Singapore right?

CHOO BEE LIM
Born in Malaysia, but grew up in Singapore. Most people call me Maureen, only my family calls me Bee Choo. But when I came to New Zealand, after filling out a couple of forms, my default name is Choo, and a real struggle to get Bee Choo or Maureen recognised as my proper name. (sigh) So it’s not too bad that I managed to get Bee Choo on my name tag, even though it’s the wrong order! (joint laughter) I’m guessing you’re from Singapore?

SHERRIE LEE
Yep, born and bred. Looks like our accents and names give us away. (joint laughter)

LIZZY BROWN joins the conversation.

LIZZY BROWN
Hello, I’m Lizzy.

CHOO BEE LIM
Hi Lizzy, I’m Bee Choo or just call me Maureen.

LIZZY BROWN
Maureen it is, I’m better with English names. Hi (reading name tag) Sherrie (sher-REE).

SHERRIE LEE
(cringing inside but smiling outside) Hi Lizzy. It’s Sherrie (SHAIR-ree), like the drink, rhymes with ‘cherry’.

LIZZY BROWN
Rhymes with cherry, cute, I can remember that (laughs), so Sherrie (SHAIR-ree).

SHERRIE LEE
(more cringing inside but a wider smile outside)

CHOO BEE LIM
We’re just talking about our names and the difficulty with Chinese names.

LIZZY BROWN
Actually I don’t think your Chinese name is too difficult, they look like English words to me, so ‘Choo Bee’, have I got that right?

CHOO BEE LIM
It’s actually Bee Choo, they got the names mixed up. It’s ok, Maureen is fine.

SHERRIE LEE
(attempting neutral small talk) Lizzy, is that short for Elizabeth?

LIZZY BROWN
Yes, it is. And Sherrie (sher-REE), what’s your real name?

SHERRIE LEE
(even more cringing inside) Sherrie (SHAIR-ree) is my real name, my mother gave me that name.

LIZZY BROWN
(laughs) I mean, what’s your Chinese name?

SHERRIE LEE
(with defiance and a steely look in her eyes) I don’t use it.

LIZZY BROWN
I used to have Chinese borders, students studying at uni, and one girl would change her name every semester. First it was Lucy, then it became Anna, not sure what name she does by now (laughs). Maureen, did you have a different name before?

CHOO BEE LIM
No, my name is Maureen, always has been.

LIZZY BROWN
(laughs) Nice talking to you (walks to another group of people).

CHOO BEE LIM and SHERRIE LEE exchange knowing glances and laugh out loud.

The Diasporic Resident

The inciting incident about names was an imaginary movie scene, created from personal and observed experiences of cultural assumptions and hidden meanings, and snatches of phrases from well-meaning individuals not yet familiar with the Chinese diaspora in Southeast Asia. If this is sounding too academic, it might as well be. After all, it will be a part history part anthropology lesson if I start unpacking Chinese naming conventions, cultural norms and expectations, and colonial influences. (Try Chapter 1 of my 2019 thesis if you’re up for some fairly readable academese.)

Inciting incidents like these that help me appreciate who I am in the world, the world of ‘European norms’ in a settler colony, with the Crown gradually unpacking and honouring Treaty obligations, as well as the wider world of migration and multiculturalism. In the immediate world of my living and working, it can often feel like I’m justifying my existence to others around me – why I should be accepted and feel valued. And when I’m considering my relationship with tangata whenua (the Māori, the peoples of the land), I have questions about what it means to be tauiwi (foreigner/immigrant), especially a non-white immigrant. Whereas if I’m operating in a world where the mobility of people and their culture and languages is welcome, then there’s much more freedom to embrace and celebrate differences. 

After finishing my PhD, I truly wanted to be an academic operating in that world of migration and multiculturalism, desiring to be that cultural intermediary or broker who could help explain the unspoken thoughts in people’s heads during the kind of conversation Lizzy, Bee Choo and I had. Although I am not that academic I thought I’d be, I can be a diasporic resident in the world of cultures and clashes.

So here’s a challenge to myself and fellow diasporic residents – the next time an inciting incident about your name occurs, will you be that diasporic resident who explains the story behind your name?

Careers / Cross-cultural / international education / Phd / Story

Final Destination: I’ve Found What I’m Looking For

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Image by Jan Vašek from Pixabay

Seven years ago I made the most significant life decision to date – uprooting my family from Singapore and moving to New Zealand for what many would regard as ‘a better life’. I felt my family was complete with three young children, had an epiphany about doing research and preparing for an academic career in international education, and wanted to start fresh in a new place that would welcome us wholeheartedly, a place we could grow to love, a place we trusted to provide a more equitable future for our family.

Today, seven years after making that decision, I have finally found what I’ve been looking for. 2021 has become the year of the ‘final destination’ not because there’s nowhere else to go from now on, but the culmination of residency, house ownership, established relationships and meaningful employment has marked the end of a seven year journey towards being and feeling settled.

I never thought it would have taken seven years when the typical time was 24 months, at least according to well-meaning advice from the New Zealand government in the form of a settlement curve (Note: While they say it is different for everyone, there’s no other example given). But perhaps those seven years were necessary to build up resilience through struggles of varying depth and emotion, and to fully appreciate the complex feelings and mental state around migration and settlement.

The journey started on shaky ground. 

We arrived in Hamilton in late November 2014 close to the start of the summer holidays and were left wondering if we had chosen a ghost town to reside in in the first couple of months. That meant having to do a whole lot of DIY in finding familiar people and networks, much like how we had to figure out how to DIY around the house. You might consider this just an initial blip of an otherwise upward trending settlement experience (again, according to the settlement curve theory). But the experience was more like ‘peaks and troughs’ unevenly spread out, interspersed with flatline day-to-day routine living of school drop-offs and pick-ups, supermarket runs and going to church.

Peaks were often associated with feeling part of the community (whether this was school, work or church) where we could express ourselves without fear of ridicule or suspicion. These were positive outcomes of coming to New Zealand. But the most significant peak was securing sufficiently paid employment that was considered relevant for a residency application. That was the biggest deciding factor for our future in the country after I completed my PhD study. This meant moving from Hamilton to Wellington, and changing my life and career trajectory altogether.

The troughs, in contrast, can be characterised by feelings of rejection by the host country. Rather than singular events, it was the reminders of how Kiwis were largely ‘friendly but not friend making’; efforts to establish personal relationships were either misplaced or flat out unreciprocated. But then again, new friendships in my stage of life – middle-aged with three children turning into teenagers – were going to be far and few between. And so I quietly resigned myself to the temporary friendships with fellow international PhD students for several years. When I started working, navigating collegial relationships in the New Zealand workplace was another new experience to grapple with. I remember having coffee with a new team and feeling like a foreigner all over again with jokes and cultural and sports references zipping past over my head. And during times like these, I would hear the soundtrack playing the song of whether the strange would ever truly become familiar. 

Through the seven years of peaks and troughs and flatlines in between, as well as pandemic induced lockdowns and border restrictions, I have learnt how to do more of ‘living in the moment’ – a challenge for someone who thrives on order and being organised. Carpe diem – seize the day – as my 20 year old self would remind me.

I’ve also realised that the initial dream of ‘a better life’ in New Zealand has changed into something else. It has been muted by the reality of creeping housing prices and inflation, petty politics and shortsighted planning. But the desire for a more equitable future for the family is playing out in different ways and unfolding over time. The grass is always greener on the other side, and to New Zealand’s credit, the air is fresher and personal freedoms are greater on this side of the world. Particularly with greater personal freedom, I’ve experienced and achieved a number of things which would have been difficult or impossible if I had remained in Singapore.

Part of the dream of ‘a better life’ was about creating an environment where we could appreciate different worldviews and other cultures while being comfortable with ourselves and others. Today we have the permission to call New Zealand home, a house we own, a community we belong to, new and meaningful friendships, and most recently, landing a job that meets my pragmatic, professional, intellectual and aspirational needs. So in some ways, I’ve fulfilled my dream, but it’s really a dream in progress, working at embracing all of the good, and overcoming the struggles and setbacks.

P.S. The title of this blog post is a response to U2’s song. It has a catchy tune but I’m glad I’m not singing this in my head anymore.

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A Christmas Letter: Messages from a Life in Translation

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To my family in Singapore

Firstly, to my sister who celebrates her birthday on Christmas Day, because the celebrations are often conflated and lessened when they ought to be separate like it is for other people whose birthdays are far from Christmas – I wish you first a very Happy Birthday and then I wish you a very Merry Christmas – this is my feeble attempt at separating the two! But more seriously, may all the double feasting give you some temporary relief from your year of adaptations – and maladaptaions – in home and work lives, in personal reckonings and the search for meaning in everything that you do. 

To my ‘Christmas’ sister, my other sister, and my mother, the ones I share a group chat with, every so often we talk about you visiting us, and all of you have, Mother being the most regular visitor who comes for a few weeks leading up to Christmas. And less often, you ask when I am coming home. Last Christmas, I probably said ‘next year’ without commitment and sincerity. But this Christmas, I want to say ‘next year’ – still without commitment but with a lot more sincerity. This year I truly mean it – I do want to go home – next year – when the border re-opens, when I can travel with managed risks, when I can gather the financial and mental resources to arrange travel for my family of five, when I can finally say with conviction it is worth all of it to go home.

To my father, the memory of you sending us off at the airport with cold burgers and fries as we were delayed at customs, your warm wishes of asking us to ‘enjoy the good life’, and your polite promise of visiting us, taunts me now and again. But this Christmas, I will remember the neat Christmas gifts you have given me and my sisters when we were kids, the toys and quirky things you’ve given my children, and the skill of gift wrapping I learnt from you – Merry Christmas Daddy! 

To my family with me in New Zealand

Our Christmases since we have moved to this country have been low key compared to our feasting with family back home. I’ve tried to start some Christmas traditions – remember the mac n cheese for Christmas in the first couple of years? And then the agar agar with condensed milk – an adaptation of my grandma’s recipe – for another couple of years? And the Christmas tree with homemade decorations outshining the store bought ones? And of course the boxing day shopping – often for Christmas gifts! And your grandma visiting us a few weeks before Christmas was the Christmas family cheer (along with suitcases full of prezzies) that we all looked forward to. And then this Christmas – after this year of ‘Sturm und Drang’, with grandma not visiting, with the hopes of settling in Wellington with our own home dashed over and over again, I’m almost out of breath and simply too tired to get into these new traditions. But I’ll summon all my energy and try something new and get all of us into the Christmas spirit – a time when we need to be grateful – and hopeful – to be sure of why Christmas is called Christmas! We remember Jesus Christ, son of God, born of the virgin Mary, sent as a Gift of Redemption.

To my friends and colleagues in New Zealand

Friends from Hamilton – you became friends through our shared circumstances of being ‘international’ PhD students, or you emerged as part of campus life, or were two degrees of connection with my immediate circle – Merry Christmas to you and thank you for the happy memories of Hamilton life. I don’t know if our paths will cross again but if they do, I hope we will easily pick up where we left off a few years ago.

Friends in Wellington – I found you in church and our friendships are still new and growing – may our bonds through faith be strengthened slowly but surely. To friends from elsewhere, some of you may be from the distant future as parents of my children’s friends but I won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out (as friendships in Hamilton taught me a few lessons). And some of you may come from unexpected places that God has planned – perhaps to be reported in the next Christmas letter.

Colleagues from the various paid and volunteer work I’ve done, you probably know me the best of this category called ‘friends and colleagues’ – or more precisely, you know the ‘best of me’ since it is work where I have to present the ‘best’ version of myself, the professional persona that justifies my being in this country – it is being employed in work that utilities recognised qualifications and skills that allows me to live here. I hate to be called one but it is true, I am a ‘skilled migrant’.

Before coming to New Zealand, I thought these labels were just administrative and that once I was in the country, I would simply be part of the fabric of a wonderfully accepting and inclusive nation. But that must have been some sort of marketing gimmick that played on the naive desires of a ‘wannabe’. I’ve been living with administrative labels for the past 6 years, and often working hard to justify the label. 

But this Christmas, after several years of working as a professional alongside other professionals, and experiencing a work culture that recognises the individuals for their unique contribution, and having colleagues who value and appreciate each other as individuals, I can start to peel off these labels. No doubt I will be tagged with various descriptors as it suits those who need to, but I am thankful that my colleagues know me for who I am – and spell and say my name correctly!

After reading this Christmas letter, and after you have decided it has been too short, and too long, not enough context or too much information, I look forward to hearing from you – whether as a Christmas letter or message, or some form of communication – in the translation of your choice.

Don`t copy text!