Neither Here Nor There: A Third Culture Kid's Search for Belonging

I was born in the Philippines, into a family where love and conflict were intertwined. My parents argued often, and my mother was judged by relatives for her humble background. From a young age, I was expected to be perfect, academically superior, skilled at everything, obedient in every way, and to show full respect for adults and elders without question. I was a devout Catholic who never missed church, but even then, I questioned everything I'd been taught. There was this constant wrestling match between the beliefs I was supposed to hold and what I actually thought and felt. And I had no one to talk to about it, no safe person to help me make sense of the contradictions. As a child, I struggled under these pressures, feeling pulled in so many directions. Even in my birth country, I sometimes felt like an outsider: too quiet, too questioning, too unsure of where I fit.

When I was ten, my family moved to the United States. We landed in a quiet suburban neighborhood in San Diego that was more affluent and mostly white. It was the 1980s, and back then, the Filipino community was concentrated in other, more affordable parts of the county. From the very beginning, I knew I stood out.

I still remember my first week of school. My classmates spoke so quickly that I could barely keep up. My accent made them giggle, especially the day I said the word “cocoa.” They laughed, and I didn’t quite understand why. All I knew was that something about the way I spoke was wrong. I didn’t talk again in class for weeks after that.

In the Philippines, I had felt different. In America, I felt different and alone.

I missed the sound of Tagalog in the air, the smell of garlic rice in the morning, the chaos of cousins running through the house. At ten years old, I learned what loneliness could feel like, not because people were unkind, but because I didn’t yet have a map for who I was supposed to be here.

For a long time, I tried to fit in by pushing away the parts of myself that felt “too Filipino.” I asked my parents to pack sandwiches instead of adobo. I practiced my R’s until they rolled less. I even took diction training. I thought that if I looked and sounded like everyone else, maybe the ache of being different would fade.

It didn’t.

By the time I was about to graduate high school, after years of trying to sound, act, and blend in as “more American,” I realized something unsettling. In the process of trying to belong, I had drifted far from my Filipino roots. I couldn’t speak Tagalog fluently anymore. I didn’t know the songs or jokes my cousins back home shared. Even when my family gathered with other Filipinos, I felt like a visitor, not quite one of them.

So I came up with a grand idea: I would reconnect. And what better way, I thought, than to join a Filipino community pageant? After all, that’s what proud Filipino girls did; they celebrate their culture, showcase traditions, and represent their community.

But once I stepped into that world, I felt out of place all over again. Most of the contestants came from well-known Filipino families in San Diego. They spoke Tagalog or Ilocano effortlessly and understood Filipino-American traditions I had never heard of. Some had been part of the local Filipino organizations for years. I hadn’t even known they existed.

I tried my best to smile through it, but inside, I felt like an imposter. I wasn’t “Filipino enough” for the Filipino community, and I wasn’t “American enough” for the world I’d spent years trying to fit into. I remember sitting backstage under the bright lights, adjusting my sash, and wondering: If I don’t belong here or there, then where do I belong?

A Turning Point in D.C.

Everyone, including my parents, assumed I would attend college in California. It made sense to stay close to home, stay within the familiar. But something inside me propelled me to apply to colleges out of state. I received full scholarships from several universities, but I ultimately chose to attend George Washington University in Washington, D.C.

Everything changed when I moved across the country. Suddenly, I wasn't the only one who felt caught between worlds. My classmates represented a mosaic of cultures from across the globe, including India, Nigeria, Ghana, Cameroon, Panama, France, Lebanon, Zimbabwe, Algeria, Mali, and many more. Some, like myself, spoke multiple languages.

For the first time, different felt normal. We shared stories about home, compared traditions, traded snacks, and laughed about the mix-ups that came from translating between cultures. That community became my lifeline, a reminder that identity isn't about choosing one culture over another, but about holding space for all of who you are.

I didn't know it then, but I was a Third Culture Kid, someone raised between their parents' culture and the culture of the country they're growing up in. That realization, years later, shaped not only how I understood myself, but also how I work as a therapist today.

What It Means to Grow Up Between Cultures

Third Culture Kids (TCKs), children of immigrants, global transplants, or multicultural families, often experience life in layers. At home, there are family expectations, traditions, and unspoken rules that reflect a different world. Outside, there’s the American culture, with its own pace, values, and definitions of success.

That “in-between” space can be beautiful, but it can also be confusing. Research shows that immigrant and second-generation youth often experience higher rates of depression, anxiety, and identity confusion than their peers (UCLA CHPR, 2021; ABCD Study, 2023). Many describe feeling like they don’t fully belong anywhere.

Yet, studies also show that when young people develop a strong sense of cultural identity, not just one, but both, they show greater resilience, confidence, and emotional health (Schwartz et al., 2017; Marks et al., 2024). In other words, integration heals.

How Therapy Can Help Third Culture Kids

As a therapist, I often meet young people and families navigating the same questions I faced at ten years old:

“Who am I supposed to be here?”
“How can I honor my family’s culture without losing myself?”
“Why do I still feel like an outsider, even in my own home?”

Therapy offers a space to unpack those questions safely and compassionately. Here’s how:

1. Building Cultural Identity and Pride
Therapy helps children and teens explore both their heritage and the culture they live in, not as conflicting forces, but as interconnected parts of a rich identity.

2. Strengthening Family Communication
Many immigrant families experience tension between traditional values and modern expectations. Therapy can bridge that gap through empathy, language, and shared understanding.

3. Healing from Guilt and Pressure
Children of immigrants often feel pressure to succeed, to “repay” their parents’ sacrifices. In therapy, they can learn to hold pride and individuality side by side.

4. Empowering Resilience
Research shows that resilience is one of the strongest buffers against cultural stress. Therapy builds it by highlighting strengths: adaptability, empathy, resourcefulness, and courage.

A Message to Parents and Young People

If you’re a parent raising your child between cultures, please know: your children are not confused, they are expanding. They are learning how to see the world from multiple perspectives, and that is a rare gift.

And if you’re a young person who feels “in between,” I want you to know that you are not alone. Your voice, your story, and your cultural roots are powerful. You don’t have to erase any part of yourself to belong. You already do.

Interested in Joining a Support Group?

Feeling caught between cultures, not quite fitting “here” or “there”? You’re not alone. I understand how complex that experience can be. Growing up between worlds can be both challenging and beautiful, cultivating resilience, adaptability, and an enduring sense of curiosity. But it can also leave you feeling disconnected, rootless, or unsure of where you belong.

This November, we’re offering two support groups designed specifically for Third Culture individuals seeking connection, understanding, and a sense of home.

(1) Find Your People: A Support Group for Young Adult Third Culture Kids (Ages 18–30)
Connect with others who understand what it’s like to grow up between worlds. This group provides a safe and supportive space for sharing experiences, exploring identity, and building community with peers who understand.

(2) Processing the Past, Embracing the Present: TCK Support for Adults
A dedicated space for adults to reflect on their Third Culture experiences, process how those experiences shape their present, and reconnect with a grounded sense of belonging and meaning.

Join our interest list to be notified about these upcoming support groups and registration details.