Where is Home? — Wandering Through Identities as a Third Culture Kid
Where is home for those who have lived in many places but never fully belonged to any? As a third culture kid (TCK) born to American parents in Japan and now living in Melbourne, Shana spent her life navigating the blurred lines of cultural identity. In this piece, she explores what it means to belong everywhere and nowhere at once, revealing how growing up between cultures has shaped her unique perspective and given her the ability to see the world through multiple lenses.
The author Shana in a traditional Japanese inn (旅館) in Yamagata.
I never knew how to answer the question, “where are you from?”—because for people like me, “home” is more of a feeling than a place. I’m a third culture kid (TCK), born and raised in Japan by American parents and now living in Melbourne, Australia. TCKs are individuals raised in a culture other than their parents' or the culture of their country of nationality. I spent my entire childhood fully immersed in Japanese language and culture, so Japanese and English are both my first languages. My thinking, communication, and behavior are very much Japanese. Growing up, I often faced challenges about my identity and where I truly belonged, especially since society often labeled me as a foreigner, a 外国人.
My experience shaped my perspective and made me aware of the complexities of cultural identity. As a TCK, I learned and observed multiple ways of thinking, communicating, and behaving. This taught me that there isn't only one way to do things, even though we naturally copy what our family and friends do. As humans, we are taught to be the same so we can survive in a group.
Wanting to be the same as others makes sense—why wouldn’t you want to be the same as your peers and have a sense of oneness and belonging? This desire is natural, but the world is full of different people, languages, and cultures. Through migration, we encounter this fluidity, which is the essence of TCKs. The unique experiences of TCKs show us that growing up in different cultures and languages can help us see life in unique ways.
TCKs are particularly good at building relationships with other cultures while not possessing a defined cultural identity of their own. They are also often referred to as “cultural chameleons”, people who easily adapt to different language and cultural environments.
Shana in Melbourne.
Belonging Everywhere and Nowhere
I was born in Seto City (瀬戸市) in Aichi Prefecture (愛知県) and moved to Yamagata Prefecture (山形県) in the north, where I grew up from the age of two. Yamagata is known for its beautiful mountain landscape, and has one of the highest snowfalls in the world. Yamagata is considered a very rural area in Japan, with a large population of older people and almost no sign of foreign residents, aside from the occasional traveler passing through. An American family living in Yamagata was indeed a rare thing.
My two older sisters and I were often called the three Ryan sisters (ライアン三姉妹). We played the shamisen (三味線), a three-stringed traditional Japanese instrument in competitions, on TV, and at our gigs. We became well-known in the shamisen community in Japan.
The three Ryan sisters performing shamisen on NHK TV (Japan Broadcasting Corporation).
Being the only ethnically non-Japanese person in my social life made life interesting. Most of the Japanese people I came in contact with may have never met a non-Japanese looking person before. I was always in the spotlight whether I liked it or not. As a little kid, I often thought: “Why do people treat me differently?” Even though I was born in Japan, spoke the language, and acted like everyone else. I frequently heard: “your Japanese is very good!” (日本語がとても上手ですね！), “when did you move to Japan?” (いつ日本に引っ越してきたのですか？), and my personal favorite: “you’re good with chopsticks!” (お箸上手ですね！). Japan has a very homogeneous culture and society, where people often view themselves as part of a unified group with a strong national identity and minimal ethnic or racial diversity.
In Japan, there is a term similar to “third culture kid (TCK)”. “Kikokushijo (帰国子女)”, refers to children of Japanese ancestry who return to Japan after living abroad. This term carries a deeper meaning beyond “returnee children.” Historically, “kikokushijo” faced unique challenges in reintegrating into Japanese society. In the 1970s, they were sometimes seen as needing assistance to bridge the cultural gap and fully reintegrate, often referred to in media and by their parents as “educational orphans” requiring guidance to navigate their way back into the Japanese cultural and educational systems.
There isn’t a perfect term that describes people like me—ethnically non-Japanese but born and raised in Japanese culture. Growing up, I always described myself as “a foreigner born and raised in Japan” (日本生まれ育ち外国人).
Understanding Japanese society and perspectives on mixed identity helps explain the deeply embedded views toward my experience as a TCK. Although I was not ethnically Japanese, I felt Japanese at heart. I spoke the language fluently, followed cultural norms like respect and group harmony, and embraced traditions like playing the shamisen, which made me feel more connected to Japanese culture than my American roots.
Learning two Languages at Once
TCKs are often exposed to a second, third, or fourth language while living in their host culture. Some TCKs pick up languages in schools, their homes, or public places like shops and community spaces. This immersion in different languages is why TCKs are often bilingual and sometimes even multilingual.
My bilingual journey began in kindergarten around the age of 4. I couldn't speak a single word of Japanese until about 2 years later, at the age of 6. The teachers initially thought I had language issues, but my parents knew I was learning by listening. By age 6, I started speaking Japanese fluently like my friends.
Shana and her friend Mizuki (美月) at high school graduation.
I attended Japanese schools for 12 years. While I was learning Japanese at school, my parents strictly enforced an “English-only” rule at home, including TV, books, and movies, to ensure we could improve our English skills outside of school.
I learned Japanese and English simultaneously, but struggled to translate between the two because I learned them in entirely separate environments. I could only speak Japanese when talking about math or other school topics and English when discussing family-related things like weekend plans or dinner. This separation made it tough to switch between languages on the same topic. Research in bilingual education indicates that learning languages in distinct contexts can hinder mental connections between them.
Each language becomes linked to different experiences and contexts, leading to a form of compartmentalized knowledge. My language learning experience was strictly one language at a time, which made it difficult to connect the two.
Shana in her local kindergarten.
Navigating a Mixture of Language and Cultural Norms
Language and communication played a key role in shaping my identity as a TCK. Despite speaking Japanese fluently, I was often perceived as non-Japanese, impacting my sense of belonging in Japan. Even though I was born and raised there, my foreigner status was frequently emphasized through language and communication, whether through surprised reactions to my fluency or assumptions that I wasn’t familiar with basic Japanese customs.
People often judge based on first impressions and appearances, trying to categorize others to understand the world more easily. While their intentions might be good, it can be frustrating for TCKs.
For example, in an Australian university classroom, students initially saw me as Australian. However, once I started communicating and behaving according to the cultural norms I was taught, their perception of me changed. In Japan, I learned to listen, be respectful, and only speak when called upon by the teacher, which is a sign of respecting the hierarchy.
In Australia, on the other hand, this behavior came across as disengagement, making it difficult to contribute opinions in a group setting. I was not seen as outgoing and opinionated because I was actually focused on listening and being respectful to the teacher.
Shana in Yamagata.
Although we use the same words, our interpretations can change based on our cultural backgrounds. This contrast between different cultural expectations highlights how deeply intertwined language and cultural norms are in shaping our interactions and perceptions.
These nuances often create cross-cultural miscommunication, but TCKs can typically navigate through them by understanding multiple languages and cultures.
For example, the Japanese word “difficult” (難しい) often means “no” as a polite way to reject a request. I experienced this at work in Australia, I used the word “difficult” with the same nuanced meaning it holds in Japanese—essentially a polite way of saying "no" or “this can't be done.” My colleagues interpreted it as a challenge that could still be overcome, not realizing that I was subtly trying to express that the task was, in fact, not feasible.
Feeling ‘Culturally Lost’ can Enhance Cultural Intuition
Navigating multiple languages and cultural identities can often lead to a sense of confusion. However, it can also lead someone to develop a unique way of viewing language and sharpening cultural insights.
Edward T. Hall discusses how “all cross-cultural exploration begins with the experience of being lost.” Feeling “lost” means sensing that something is unfamiliar in the new culture. When you feel “lost”, you are forced to confront and question assumptions and stereotypes. This feeling is important in developing language and cultural insights which is a skill that TCKs consistently navigate in their lives.
When we talk about intuition, it's like gut feelings that often go beyond any logical explanation. We go through life on instinct, almost on autopilot. Japanese culture has a great example of this with the concept of “reading the air” or “reading between the lines” (空気を読む). It's important in Japan to master this in all kinds of situations in order to understand what people are thinking or feeling without them actually saying it.
This is common in high-context and indirect communication cultures like Japan, Korea, and China. Japanese also value “tatemae” (建前), which is like putting on a public mask or facade to maintain a harmonious social appearance while keeping true feelings hidden.
I often find myself as a silent observer in social settings because of these concepts. A group of Japanese friends of mine were deciding where to eat dinner. One friend suggested a Korean restaurant, but I noticed that others briefly paused, nodded politely, and smiled without much enthusiasm—subtle signs that they weren't keen on the idea but didn't want to openly disagree. Recognizing these cues, I suggested looking at other options to maintain the group's harmony. By doing this, no one had to explicitly voice their disinterest, and we found a place that everyone was happy with.
Shana being interviewed ahead of her shamisen performance.
The intuition of TCKs involves a sense of knowing without conscious reasoning—it's a gut feeling, an inner compass referred to as “cultural intuition” or “software of the mind”.
Cultural intuition can be seen as a form of pattern recognition, where we seek to understand the world to the best of our ability. Our brains are great at prediction, yet can also fall into habitual thought patterns. Stepping outside our own worldview helps us recognize our unconscious biases as cultural intuition varies across contexts and countries.
Experiencing different cultural intuitions is key to learning “a new way of feeling”.
A good example of cultural intuition is how different cultures view modesty. In Japan, being humble and not talking about your achievements is important because it's all about “what is best for us” and keeping harmony in the group. On the other hand, in the U.S., people often celebrate individual successes, which is more about “what is best for me” and focusing on personal goals. These differences show how cultural intuition shapes how people think and act, depending on what's valued in their culture.
I experienced these conflicting feelings during a job interview in Australia. I instinctively downplayed my achievements because of my Japanese upbringing, where modesty is highly valued. I quickly realized that this approach wasn’t resonating with the interviewers, who were expecting me to confidently showcase my skills and accomplishments.
Seeing Beyond the Surface
Throughout my childhood, my TCK experience often led to an identity crisis and a struggle to find a sense of belonging in Japan— “where is home?”
Being a TCK means grappling with belonging, commitment, and attachment to different cultures, which can sometimes lead to a feeling of “cultural homelessness”. However, it also gives us a unique perspective, allowing us to see the world through multiple cultural lenses and understand that there are many ways to approach and interpret situations.
It wasn’t until I moved to Melbourne, Australia, that I began to deeply reflect on my childhood in Japan. At 18, I made a spontaneous decision to start university in Australia, seeking to explore my identity outside of Japan. Earning a Master’s degree in Applied Linguistics fueled my passion for the connections among language, culture, and communication in multicultural contexts.
My TCK upbringing has shaped who I am today. Moving to a new country and culture deepened my self-reflection, leading me to navigate my identity as a Japanese-like-American, an American-like-Japanese, and now, a Japanese-like-American Australian. But in Australia, one of the most multicultural countries in the world, I feel most at home. Here, everyone is different, and that’s what makes it feel like home.
I’ve come to realize that while we may feel like we belong everywhere and nowhere, this in-between space is where our true strength lies. It’s in this space that we learn to see the world through multiple lenses, connect deeply with diverse cultures, and develop an intuitive understanding of people’s unspoken thoughts and emotions. My experiences as a TCK have shaped not only how I perceive the world but also how I interact with it.
Shana and her two sisters Kyla and Brenna.
I am grateful for my Japanese upbringing, as it taught me resilience and gave me a unique perspective on cultural identity. Those experiences have instilled in me a profound sense of empathy, cultural sensitivity, and adaptability—qualities that continue to guide me as I navigate the complexities of multiculturalism and embrace the fluidity of my cultural identity.
For instance, I make a conscious effort to listen attentively to those around me, giving them the space to share their stories and experiences. This helps me understand their perspectives and emotions more deeply. I approach each conversation with an open mind, and pay close attention to non-verbal cues during interactions. Awareness and empathy allows me to connect on a more meaningful level and connect with a diverse range of people.
This ongoing journey has shaped me into someone who fluidly embodies aspects of American, Japanese, and Australian cultures—a true “cultural chameleon”.
Edited by
Danielle Absin, Anthony Burger, Perla Camacho-Cedillo, Aline Tranchant, Alice Pol, Konstantinos-Chery Krikelis
Cite this Article
Ryan, Shana. 2024. "Where is Home?—Wandering Through Identities as a Third Culture Kid." Linguaphile Magazine, September 4. https://www.linguaphilemagazine.org/editorial/third-culture-kid-shana-ryan.
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