If I hadn’t met the Mongolian elder sister, maybe I would still be bogged down in the mire of confusion about my identity.

Three years older than me, she faced the same problem I did, but took different actions. I was inspired, and then learned to balance my inner timidity and bravely face difficulties .

Of the Chinese population, 91% is Han Chinese. My classmates and teachers from elementary to high school were all Han Chinese. I have completed 17 years of Han Chinese study in Beijing and mastered Chinese very proficiently.

Although I grew up in a Han culture, my parents are both Mongolians who grew up in Inner Mongolia. When people ask about my unusual name, I tell them that I am Mongolian, one of the 55 ethnic minorities in China.

They are surprised because Mongolians and Han people don't look much different, I don't speak with a Mongolian accent, and my usual outfits don't contain Mongolian totem elements on them.

When I realized people could not tell I was Mongolian, I was quite disappointed that I looked so “normal."

Once, when I was with Han Chinese friends, I told them that I can't play the morin khuur (a traditional Mongolian instrument), just like them. They said confusedly: "No way, who are you? You are Mongolian, not Han! How could you not play the Morin khuur?"

Yes, who am I?

I am not 100% Han, but I am not 100% Mongolian either.

I fill in the ethnic column on my ID card as Mongolian, because my parents are Mongolian, and, therefore, I am Mongolian by birth.

But I speak Chinese fluently and better than Mongolian. I can write Chinese characters, speak Chinese, and read Chinese, but I can't write or read Mongolian. I am the same as Han Chinese. But I'm not Han Chinese.

At home, my parents communicate in Mongolian, but I can't speak a complete sentence in their language. I can understand what they are talking about, but I hardly open my mouth to speak with them in Mongolian. I just don’t understand why I have been afraid of speaking my mother tongue.

Although I wear Mongolian robes to some special events and eat Mongolian food, I know very little about Mongolian history and culture. When other people asked me enthusiastically about the story of Genghis Khan, my mind went blank and I tried to recall the very general and popular content that my history teacher had said in class. After listening, they smiled stiffly and looked at me with suspicion. I saw myself in their eyes, a person who doubts her identity.

For a time, I deliberately hid my Mongolian identity.

I didn't know if it was my shame or my burden.

I just tried to get away from the issue.

When I returned to Inner Mongolia during summer vacation, I didn't fit into the circle of Mongolian-speaking children. My parents told me to play with them and pushed me to get near them. I knew what they said to me, but I couldn’t reply. Gradually, they kept their distance from me. I saw them riding horses freely on the grassland, enjoying the breeze touching their faces, while I could only sit in a jeep that was out of tune with the grassland. I sat in the steel-hard car, swiping through social media that had been updated countless times and still had no news. Then I went back to my grandparents' house and watched them try to understand my current situation by struggling to speak the little Chinese they knew. Tears kept rolling down my face; I felt sorry for their sadness, and I hated that I couldn't communicate in my native language. Gradually, I was resistant to going back to Inner Mongolia because I didn't want to face the fact that I felt like an alien in my hometown and didn't belong.

The turning point came in the summer of 2021. I met a Mongolian elder sister at a cultural publicity meeting. She was a college student from a Mongolian family who, like me, grew up in a society where Han is the mainstream culture. We grew up in the same environment and faced the same difficulties about our identities, but our way of dealing with the problem was different. I tried to escape reality, but she found a way to overcome it.

She can communicate with her parents in Mongolian without any problem, reads novels in Mongolian, knows the culture well, and knows who she is. She didn’t lose her identity when she lived in another culture.

She is exactly what I want to be.

I struggled in high school to find the light that led me through a burst of chaos.

I started doing my best to speak Mongolian. I found that listening to Mongolian for the past 17 years has made me adapt to the pronunciation and grammar of Mongolian very quickly. Although every time I speak Mongolian I am like a two- or three-year-old baby just learning to talk, I also try very hard to imitate my parents' accent. Every time I say a complete sentence, I can see my parents’ happy smiles, which makes me excited and strengthens my determination to learn Mongolian and find my identity.

After a few months of hard work, I can communicate with my parents fluently. I have read a lot of Mongolian history books and learned a lot about the mysteries of the grasslands. At the same time, I am very proud that I am a Mongolian.

Now, if you ask me, “Who are you?,” I will happily and proudly say,"I AM A MONGOLIAN.”