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Image from personal archive © Monika Velin

I am a Chinese descent who lives in a Southeast Asian country whose government used to prosecute us for attempting to preserve the culture and language our ancestors had brought forth when they migrated to this country.

So, for us, specifically my parents’ generation, receiving a formal education in our original mother tongue was out of the equation. When it was our time to attend formal education for the first time, fortunately, after a couple of regime changes and bloodbath of political struggles later, we were finally allowed to learn Mandarin Chinese at school.

Growing up, this sense of obligation to master the Chinese language was imposed very heavily on us. You know how little kids loved to rebel “just because.” On top of that, the characters are easily intimidating for those whose eyes are not accustomed to.

Apart from that, I had this internal struggle when it comes to my family and home life. There were just some things about my own culture that didn’t sit right with me but I couldn’t quite put a finger on. Additionally, I’ve always struggled with the difficulty to fit in within my own community and I thought committing to learning Chinese would worsen the struggle.

I assumed it’s because I have quite a different personality and worldview that simply don’t fit into the community’s mold and choosing to study my ancestors’ language of origin might shed light on the childhood burdens; proving myself wrong that I might have overgeneralized the entire ethnicity.

Despite the animosity I had towards the language as a result of unresolved emotional trauma, I still tried my best to master the language because of how important this skill is especially if you live in Asia. Being the second most spoken language after English, surely there are some benefits that I can reap.

However, after many years of attempts — taking online courses and group classes during college and full-time employment — I was still nowhere near basic beginner at all.

At the time when I decided to go to Taiwan, I was also struggling with career stagnation so I figured why not just go for it while I still could?

I might be Chinese by blood, but Mandarin is completely foreign to me. Mao Zedong would have agreed with my statement.

At home, I actually speak Southern Min dialect but even so, the dialect has been diluted and merged with the official language of our home country.

I arrived in Taiwan for the first time only knowing fifty words from years of casually learning the language. Whenever I walked into the convenience stores, I was so shaken with fear and anxiety that I stuttered a lot. Even though Taiwanese people were mostly kind and helpful enough to assist me by speaking adequate English to me, I still felt shamed and burdened by my own incompetence despite being born Chinese.

I finally told myself, “This had to work this time. No more screwing around.”

So I worked hard for it. I went on searching for local friends who were willing to be my language exchange partner even though a part of my ego still wanted to hold onto the past and say, “just do the bare minimum.”

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I focused and engaged with the class, giving all of my 100%.

My first teacher hated me because she thought I could get very opinionated and judgmental with her teaching methods which I thought was a fair assessment. I spent approximately NTD$30,000 per semester (3-month course), not including living expenses and rent. That’s about US$950, which is considerably a pretty hefty sum for Asian standards so I simply didn’t want to waste money and time.

My second teacher, however, saw my potential. She always affirmed and reassured me that I would reach my goals later on. She was one of the reasons why my resentment towards this language could be reversed.

Because I (thought) I grew up in such a hostile environment, where sheep mentality and vague social expectations masqueraded as “harmony and compassion,” being recognized for who I am and what I am naturally good at felt like I was reborn anew.

Thanks to her support, I proceeded to land my first Chinese-speaking job at FamilyMart Taiwan. Yes, a customer-facing role where I must converse with the locals in full Mandarin Chinese. Non-negotiable, except when I had to serve English-speaking customers.

The work-study arrangements helped with my proficiency a lot. I had to juggle multiple tasks while at the same time practicing this language I had no desire to learn in the first place. The more I learned and the more I practiced, the more I noticed there was an improvement in my thinking and how I managed my emotions as well.

Through this experience, I have met a lot of amazing people, both local Taiwanese and fellow foreign learners, and it made me reevaluate how I perceive my own culture and separate my childhood experiences from the rest.

I did some light research as to why I think faster and speak even more eloquently in English now as English is not my native language at all. I discovered that learning a new language, particularly a third foreign language, helps with accelerating cognitive functions.

My brain has to juggle between different language systems and it stimulates neuroplasticity — the brain’s ability to rewire itself when pushed into unfamiliar territory.

Delayed gratification becomes much less agonizing too since learning a new language takes time, patience, and consistency, which is now reflected in what I do now with writing amid the rise of AI usage.

I didn’t go to Taiwan to find myself. I went because I was stuck and out of options.

But somewhere between stuttering at a convenience store counter and taking orders in full Mandarin at FamilyMart, something quietly shifted.

The language I spent years resenting ended up being the thing that finally made me feel at home in my own heritage — not because it erased the difficult parts, but because mastering it proved I was bigger than them.

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