Here's The Good, The Not So Good, And The Unexpected About Moving To Europe As A Person Of Color (From A Korean American Expat)

"I've been scared to open up about my experiences as an Asian American in Europe because it's a vulnerable subject, but after four years and some self-reflection, I'm ready to talk about it."

Almost four years ago, I moved to Germany from the US, and I wrote about it here and here. One aspect I haven't quite dived into yet has been my experience as an Asian person living in Europe.

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On one hand, that's because it's a vulnerable subject. I'm scared of opening myself up to any feedback that might make me second-guess my own lived experience. Writing publicly about it would do just that. 

On the other hand, it's taken me some self-reflection to process my experiences, to reach that depth of understanding that can only come after one thinks about the same thing in different settings and seasons, and sees how those thoughts hold over time. 

After almost four years here, I am ready to talk about it, and know there's more good than bad I could do by sharing.

When I moved to Berlin, I was just finishing up more than seven years in one of the most culturally diverse places in the world, New York City. It was one of those American strongholds where I could be asked where I was from and rest assured that when I replied, "Southern California," that's exactly where the questioning would end.

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My friends came from all over the world, and they all subscribed to the liberal norms of never assuming I was one type of Asian or could speak Japanese, or ever insinuating that the fishy smells wafting out of Chinatown stalls were something to be irked about. 

In other words, cultural respect in NYC is more normalized than in many other places across the US. I may not have felt safe there all the time, but I felt confident. Of course, things aren't the same in Europe — in good, bad, and frankly unexpected ways. So without further ado, here are my biggest takeaways about being an Asian person in Germany.

In many ways, moving to Berlin has felt like moving backward in time:

1. Berlin reminded me that racism doesn't have to be loud, direct, or policed to dehumanize me. It can be ambiguous or ignorant or even feel like indifference. My earliest memory of racist aggression in Berlin could be described as PG-rated at best: On my way home from dinner in Kreuzberg, a gaggle of teens yelled out, "Ching chong!" as I walked by. I was almost embarrassed for them by the blandness of this insult. "That's so early 2000s," I wanted to tell them.

Michelle No

I hadn't heard that slur in the States since my teenage days. When I later asked a few friends about their experiences with racism, a few replied that aggressive shouts of "Ni hao" and "Konnichiwa" are par for the course for them in Berlin. 

What makes these interactions so Twilight Zone–esque is that I feel like I'm reliving my past. 

A mix of cringe, shock, and pure confusion encompasses most conversations in which we try to understand the giant disconnect between the norms we grew up with in the US and the outdated environments we willingly jumped back into in Europe.

2. I've had to repeat a lot of conversations about race (including cultural appropriation and bias) that I thought I was long done having. Instead, these conversations have opened up anew in the form of debate. I remember one friend of a friend asking why he should be criticized for saying the n-word if it was in a song by a Black artist. Another time, a white woman who spent one month in Seoul explained to me, an ethnic Korean, how a particular Korean dish at a particular restaurant should be eaten. It was a long conversation to endure.

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I also once spent an afternoon explaining to a friend why some people should think twice before sporting dreads.

The most frustrating part is that there's a feeling that a baseline education about race and privilege — the minimum you need to know in order to have productive conversations about the topic — just hasn't happened yet. 

It makes me feel so much more helpless to know that I have little agency in educating someone on why I, an immigrant of color, deserve the dignity and respect that many white Germans are born with.

3. On a lighter note, I also admit that the variety of food choices leaves something to be desired 😬. I know that the phenomenon of diverse cuisines adapting to local palates is nothing new — I just wish the German take on [insert the name of flavorful, rich ethnic cuisine] were more true to form.

Michelle No

I don't blame the restaurant owners for this one. Whether it's determining how spicy things can be or the pizza toppings available, non-German restaurants (still have to) cater to the German palate. 

There are definitely a large number of delicious, commendable eateries that hold nothing back when it comes to flavor and spice, but they're not in the majority.

I'd be remiss not to mention the good parts of Germany that might also make it appealing for people of color:

4. Benefits like universal health care, cheap and high-quality education, and a vast social safety net (to name a few) make a pretty amazing contrast to the many policies that give a systemic advantage to white people in countries like the US.

Michelle No

As someone who's been in and out of doctor's offices for a variety of random reasons, I once considered medical bills to be synonymous with having whole-body anxious meltdowns. It's a giant weight off my shoulders to never have to worry about copays or deductibles and to know that my bills will be covered whether I need a night guard or to deliver a baby.

If I could do it all over again, I'd also opt to go to university here for a couple of hundred euros per semester, saving myself the $55,000-per-year bill my private college attendance required.

5. Let's not forget: Germany has way stricter gun laws — among the strictest in the world. To possess a gun in Germany, you're required to fulfill a couple of key requirements. And for someone who's watched a relentless stream of breaking news around racially motivated shootings in the US, Germany's gun control feels like another safety blanket that helps me sleep better at night.

Jeff Dean / Reuters

In order to own a gun in Germany, you must, at a baseline, 1) be 18 years old; 2) demonstrate a need for a firearm (e.g., you're a hunter or are someone who is more likely to be the victim of a crime); 3) demonstrate the necessary specialized knowledge for owning a gun — usually by passing an exam; 4) prove that you possess the reliability, mental stability, and personal aptitude to own a gun; and 5) have liability insurance of at least 1 million euros for personal injury and property damage.

In 2016, Germany was heralded for being the only country that requires anyone under 25 years of age to pass a psychiatric evaluation before applying for a gun license.

Now let's talk about some things that I didn't expect when moving to Germany:

6. While there are many resources that have made Berlin feel safe and like home to me, having friends from all around the world tops the list. They provide a safe cocoon of normalcy for me. Surprisingly, my acute need for belonging made me realize that what I actually needed in a friend was not simply someone who looked like me but someone who had the emotional intelligence to engage with all the layers that make me, me.

Michelle No

The farther I get from my home, the more I feel nostalgic for those familiar elements I took for granted. This includes, but is not limited to, an abundance of diverse food choices, speaking Konglish (Korean English) with my Korean American friends, and the assumption of multiculturalness.

Fortunately, my group of friends hail from all over the world, and I'm especially grateful for friends to whom I feel I can bring my whole self. 

7. Plus, living in Germany has made me realize just how limited my worldview — which has since expanded — used to be. I have to admit that when I moved to Berlin, I knew nothing about the geopolitical crises affecting the people in Germany. Crossing the Atlantic Ocean has honestly opened my eyes to the vast extent of the world and politics that exist beyond our hyper-glorified American borders.

Michelle No

Upon moving to Germany, I learned about East Germany (officially known as the German Democratic Republic), the fall of the Berlin Wall (beyond Ronald Reagan and the fact that it was a wall that fell), Turkey's refugee crisis, the Croatian War of Independence, and so much more. 

By paying closer attention to my own oppression, I've become more sensitive to the plights of other people around the world.

8. Because I'm often asked elementary questions about race, I've had to reeducate myself on the basics. In particular, moving from the US to Germany has forced me to revisit essential questions about what systemic racism actually is and to differentiate between instances of racism and nonracial discrimination.

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Coming from a liberal and diverse community of immigrants meant that I had stopped engaging with the topic of race and how it continues to affect people around the country. 

I liken the experience to having a kid ask you why the sky is blue or why they should be nice to their classmates. The answer feels obvious. But as soon as you try explaining it, you'll realize you're actually not quite sure of the logic behind it yourself.

9. On a more lighthearted note, the disappointing restaurants that I complained about before have made me cook more Korean food than ever at home! And, unexpectedly, I discovered that cooking has helped me cope with being so far from home by reconnecting me to my culture.

Hyunho Song / Getty Images/iStockphoto

Even as someone whose full-time job once involved writing exclusively about food, I can say that I've never cooked so much in my life. I still wish I had more takeout and dine-in spots, but I'm thankful for the lessons in home cooking that this dearth of options has forced me to give myself. 

Without my family or community of Asian friends close by, I've felt the sudden need to re-create my own weekly reminder of my Asianness through food. It's been a delicious journey into my heritage, and a lesson in gratitude.

In conclusion: As a Korean American, living in Germany has challenged my long-held views on race and identity while affirming my need for community. Some days, I ask myself whether all this work — to feel safe, to belong — is worth it and why I purposely put myself through it in a new country. But most other days, I remind myself that meeting new people and experiencing the whole spectrum of humanity (good and uncomfortable) is exactly the curious thinking that drew me abroad in the first place. And given the opportunity, I'd happily do it again.

If you've had similar experiences as an expat of color while abroad, I'd love to hear your story in the comments below!