“Mom, I don’t want to go to heaven,” I said to my mother one day after school. In shock, she asked, “Why?” I explained that none of my friends would be there with me. “Oh, sweetie, that’s why you have to tell them about Jesus.” I replied, “But Mom, they won’t listen.” I was in second grade at Chinese public school when I uttered those words.
Despite being a bright red-headed girl and the only non-Chinese student in my entire school, at times I considered myself more Chinese than American. I wore my Communist red scarf with pride, not understanding what it implied, only knowing that I was part of my class, part of my school. I knew the Chinese national anthem by heart, holding my head up high as the flag rose, while not knowing a single word of my home country’s anthem. I was honored with the job zhizhousheng (值周生), which was a “student inspector” who reported students to a teacher if they committed any minor wrongdoings. I wore the official red band on my arm showing my responsibility and authority to lead. My life, my home, my identity was filled with Chinese pride.
My friends, my teachers, my surroundings were entirely Chinese. Even though I’m a native English speaker, my first written language was Chinese. One day in fourth grade, I was listening to a presentation in English with some of my fellow foreign friends. I covered my notes, hoping no one would see what I wrote, for I could only write my notes in Chinese. My identity as being “American” had yet to be revealed.
It wasn’t until sixth grade when cultural difference began to affect my relationships at school. Politics between my “China home” and my passport country left me an outsider in the eyes of many of my classmates.
I’ve been asked many times if I regretted being put into Chinese public school. Despite many foreigners having a negative view of it, I truly believe it has been one of my greatest blessings. As a teenager, being bilingual is an obvious benefit, but my work ethic was developed purely by the competitive environment evident in a Chinese classroom. One day, I scored higher on my Chinese language arts exam than some of my classmates. My teacher texted in my class’s parent group chat calling certain kids out, “Sydney surpassed these kids on the Chinese exam. Please discuss this with your child to improve.” Up to this day, competition is a strong motivation for me; I strive to be the best at everything I do. No matter if it’s a simple game of UNO or an AP exam, if I have a chance to win or be one of the best, I will try my hardest to do so.
Because I grew up in China and because this environment is nearly completely non-Christian, I was accustomed to being in a room where most views opposed my own. As a Christian, my faith has never been defined by my surroundings. I am able to befriend people who hold completely different beliefs than mine, but I’m still strong in my own faith. I don’t believe that friendship is limited to those who agree on religion; after all, my entire life was spent among those who disagree with my values.
There were many times where my faith left Chinese non-believers confused. On a certain class field trip to the national history museum, we were assigned to write an essay the next day. I was enraged when I witnessed the “origin of humans” display. “They’re all lies!” I yelled, throwing a tantrum at my Chinese tutor. At the time, she was not a believer and was left speechless by my response. Needless to say, my mom and tutor still forced me to finish my essay. It was a difficult day for nine-year-old me and a very confusing day for my tutor.
A common word for foreigners living in China is “outsider.” I feel like I’ve always been an outsider. From the age of two to 13, my education was given to me by the Chinese government. I found my place as an outsider in my Chinese school, since at home, my typical American family shaped and formed me to be a traditional American. When COVID-19 occurred, my family was unable to go back to China for over three years. Two of those years, I went to American public school and was known as the “China girl.” Even in the country where I was supposed to “belong,” I was still an outsider.
Currently, I’m back in Beijing, and I’m attending an international school; however, I still represent the minority of non-Chinese students. As a teenager, my identity is rooted with mixture of my US culture and Chinese upbringing, sharing strong ties with both groups but not completely belonging to either.
Prayer for the Chinese Youth
Pray that the youth in China can have the one true hope and strength. This beautiful generation holds the power of their country’s future. Many of these teenagers struggle with depression and the pressure of the gaokao. Most of them live lives that are left empty, validating their worth by their awards and ranking in their class. The never-ending competition leads to hopelessness. Pray that the Chinese Gen Z can find their true meaning and identity, that their worth would not be in their achievements, but in a higher force. Pray that people can be called to be the salt and light, to mentor the soon-to-be leaders of China, leading this great generation to walk strong in faith.
Sydney Holliday
Sydney Holliday is an American who was born and raised in Beijing, China. She attended Chinese Public School until age of 13. Currently, she is finishing high school at Tsinghua International School Daoxiang Lake in Beijing. After living in Asia for the majority of her childhood, she has a strong …View Full Bio
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