Between Worlds: Navigating Cultural Homelessness and the Journey Home

In my doctorate class, I was prompted to reflect on the broken parts, gaps, or flaws that have emerged in my academic journey. As I began exploring autoethnography as my main research methodology and delved deeper into self-reflection, I realized I carry a deep longing for the ancestral connection and cultural development that was interrupted when my family moved from South Korea to Canada. This reflection has led me to wonder whether returning to Seoul to reconnect with my Korean cultural and linguistic maturation might help me to achieve a deeper understanding of other cultures and knowledge systems, including Indigenous ways of knowing.

Throughout my life, I have felt like I have only skimmed the surface of Korean culture, Canadian English culture, and the Indigenous cultures, never truly understanding any entirely. It pains me to acknowledge and point this out as a broken part of myself: a stunted ability to fully situate myself in a culture or a community, a shortcoming caused by the disruption of my first cultural identity. Perhaps my fascination with understanding culture, language, and traditions that shape my academic interests, stems from my persistent sense of cultural dislocation.

I know I am not alone in these feelings. Many studies on diasporic populations explore the concept of the "third space" or "third culture" as a liminal, hybrid existence between worlds. Initially, my autoethnographic work focused on delving into Indigenous ways of knowing in Canada. However, I now feel that this work might result in becoming shallow or even futile, if I do not first address the lack of depth in understanding my own ancestral ways of knowing from Korea. This realization has prompted me to shift my research focus inward, toward my own identity and sense of belonging.

I want to embark on a journey back to my birthplace—not just to visit but to explore whether I can truly belong there and feel welcomed and accepted. Or will I still feel like an outsider, shaped by a halted Korean upbringing and years spent elsewhere? Regardless of the outcome, this homecoming would offer me closure—a chance to confront the deep-seated longing and to evaluate whether I am "fully Korean" or not.

In Canada, I do not feel entirely at home. My return to Korea could also result in the same feeling of being an outsider. Even if my journey does not make me feel fully Korean, it might ease my sense of cultural aimlessness. It would help me let go of the "what if" questions and alternate imaginations, and focus instead on creating my own corner in the world. This journey could also enhance my understanding of Indigeneity in Canada, one of my research interests, as it could mirror the complexities faced by Indigenous individuals who grew up elsewhere and later struggled with a return to their ancestral homelands, shaped by foreign ways of knowing and living.

Some might describe this as being a "citizen of the world," but to me, the term feels like a euphemism for cultural homelessness. Perhaps I feel this disconnection more deeply because, for the first ten years of my life, I knew only one culture—Korean. That singular sense of belonging was uprooted by emigration, leaving me adrift between worlds. It’s as if I opened a Pandora’s Box by leaving Korea, releasing the challenges of navigating life as an outsider. Had I stayed, perhaps ignorance would have been bliss, allowing me to live a simpler, more grounded existence as fully Korean, even amidst the inevitable struggles of adulthood.

Still, I know that no matter where I end up, whether I fully belong to one place or remain in-between, I will persist. I will continue to seek meaning, contribute to my work, and do my best in life.