From China to an Unsettled World: A Mid-MBA Reflection on Identity, Distance, and the Courage To Stay
It was a Sunday afternoon. A friend and I sat on the grass by the river in Fontainebleau. The breeze felt like a crumpled veil, and the water sparkled like scattered diamonds. For a moment, it felt like a scene from a Woody Allen film. I caught myself thinking: How did I end up here?
Honestly, of course, I came to INSEAD to polish my resume and escape reality.
In a Chinese workplace, I’d learned to speak like walking a tightrope—words measured, silence calculated. I didn’t lack opinions, but I understood the cost of voicing them. Over time, restraint became survival, then habit. Eventually, I disappeared into my own silence.
INSEAD felt like a different climate. People spoke and listened. We debated in class and shared drinks afterwards. Disagreement didn’t threaten the connection, and expression wasn’t dangerous.
At first, I tried hard to blend in. I adjusted my accent, refined my humor, presented a polished international veneer. I was afraid of seeming too Chinese, too unfamiliar. But slowly I stopped performing.
Many of us Chinese came from modest homes. Our parents didn’t know hedge funds or how to tell consulting from a scam. Some classmates grew up with privilege and global fluency. But beneath the polish, the same questions emerged: Where do I belong? What kind of life matters?
I realised: my difference isn’t a weakness —it’s what I bring. I may not speak from the centre, but my voice still matters.
From that distance, I also see China through a more analytical lens. I’m still examining it, but I stopped judging. I saw it not as something to defend or critique but as a layered, evolving reality, and less emotionally.
I also learned I wasn’t as unbiased as I thought. But late-night talks, unexpected tears, and shared meals reminded me: true understanding doesn’t ask for passports.
And I found friends—people who sat with me in silence and joy. We talked about fear, family, love, and yes, wars, politics, and the turmoil—not to be provocative but to feel more human in a world that often feels fractured.
A quiet but important shift: I’ve stopped offering smiles and softness to those who give none in return. Kindness is not an obligation. Boundaries are not walls—they’re clarity.
This year hasn’t been smooth. Some nights, loneliness and pain passed through me like wind. But I’m learning to let go of self-blame—and to offer myself the patience I give others.
I used to think I was too reserved for the stage, but now I speak up. What moved me most were the people who said, “You gave voice to something I’ve always carried.” Being seen, I realised, isn’t about attention—it’s about connection.
In a world increasingly divided by trade wars, shifting borders, and polarised beliefs, perhaps honesty, presence, and connection are more radical than before.
If any part of this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your reflections too.
This text was originally posted on LinkedIn
