There’s a unique pressure that comes from growing up in the purgatory of two very distinct cultures. As a child of Bengali immigrants in Ireland, I often feel strangely disconnected, not fully at home with other second generation Irish Bengalis, and among native Irish people, I often feel foreign. It’s a tension I keep with myself silently, in this space of limbo where identitiy feels like a puzzle with no final piece.
I once tried to explain this feeling to my parents, the sense of not fitting in entirely with any one group, they just stared at me confused and asked, “So then who do you think you are” After a momens thought I replied, “I’m just me”. As true as it was, it left me with the crushing weight of this undefined space that I occupy feel even heavier. It tends to get lonely to exist with no particular identity, heritage or set of values you can fully claim as your own. Apart from my faith, there’s no tribe I naturally belong to or a sort of identity I can declare with certainty.
Its been like this for as long as I can remember, but I’m starting to see that this journey has its own meaning. This essay is supposed to be a reflection on that path: a search for belonging that goes beyound labels and tribal affiliations. I want to share my experiences, sort of in the hope that there are others who might feel the same way as myself.
As a child of immigrants, I’ve always carried the silent weight of my family’s journey. My parents left everything they knew to build a new life in Ireland, driven by a hope that their children would have the opportunities they never did. Their sacrifices ,the dreams they set aside and the ambitions they let go have become the very part of my own foundation. I grew up aware that every step I take forward is built on the resilience they showed when they chose to start over in a foreign land.
This legacy is both a gift and a responsibility. On one hand, it pushes me to make the most of what they’ve given me; the privelege to dream, to choose, and to shape my life beyound necessity. On the other hand, it brings an unspoken preassure to ensure that their struggles weren’t in vain, to succeed in ways that hnour their sacrifices. It’s a delicate balance with gratitude that fuels me and guilt that weighs me down.This duality shapes literally everything, from my choices in school and career to the values I prioritise, forming a mechanism to my ambitions that both lifts me and weighs me down.
There’s this relentless drive that I notice among other second generation immigrants. It’s not something that can easily be explained, but there is this underlying intensity that exists. Like an unspoken commitment to constantly push forward. I see it in friends who juggle multiple jobs, stay up late balancing coursework, work on side projects, and still somehow manage to stay involved in everything around them. I don’t think this is just isolated amongst second gen immigrants but rather this rhythm of ambition and resilience comes naturally to those of us who’ve watched our parents or people close to us navigate life with that same tenacity.
I wouldn’t say its only about personal goals, its also about an inherited drive. In my situation, my parents didnt endure years of upheaval, sacrificing their familiar comforts in their home countries, for me to just live complacently. This isn’t about some pressure, its more of a feeling that lives beneath the surface, a kind of urgency to not waste this opportunity, a mantra that repeats itself like a broken tape recorder. A mindset like this means that slowing down almost feels like an indulgence and resting feels like I’m letting down more than just myself. It’s not enough to just succeed, instead I have to succeed with purpose, as if every accomplishment should somehow justify all that my parents have left behind.
But as empowering as this drive is, there’s a very real cost. It's easy to cross the line into burnout, pushing towards the point where ambition just drains into exhaustion and weariness. And yet, theres always this voice that reminds me quietly and persistently, that its not just about myself, its about something so much bigger.
But then Patch happened.
Patch is a talent acelerator that brings together the brightest young people in the island to create and thrive in a supportive community, with a 6 week formal acelerator and lifetime support. I did Patch in the summer of 2022 fresh out of my Leaving Cert (Irish matriculation exam). I was fortunate enough to get in thanks to devloping this project (and winning) in a competition they sponsored.
That summer changed everything.
The people I met and the other “Patchers” of my cohort was really something else also. Working on and building startups and seeing what’s possible when people are willing to work hard made me realise that I didn’t want to just climb a safe and predictable ladder. I wanted to put my skills to use, to help others, and to create something meaningful. I wanted to make an impact and do something significant with my life. The idea of a stable career very quickly started to lose its appeal. I wanted to be involved in something dynamic, to build things, solve real problems and push boundaries. I’ll write more about Patch and its implications down the line.
Still, I couldn’t ignore the guilt that comes when I choose a path that doesn’t fit into my parents’ idea of security. There’s a sense that I’m pushing against everything they worked so hard to create despite their attempts at reconciling me, and it isn't an easy feeling to shake. It’s a strange mix of pride and guilt. I’m proud to have ambitions that feel true to who I am but theres always this quiet voice reminding me that every decision I make either honours or strays away from their sacrifices. I want to believe that choosing my own path doesn’t mean I’m rejecting their values, it just means that I’m finding a way to blend them with my own.
This cultural limbo forced me to ask myself what home really means. Its not a particular country, nor is it a singular identity I can claim with certainty. I look at others who have a clear cultural connection, people who can claim a nationality or heritage with pride and know exactly what it means to belong to a tribe. That sense of belonging has always been slipperly, more of a feeling than a physical tangible place, more of a connecteion that a claim.
But over time, I’ve come to redefine home as something beyound a location or culture. Ive found that home isn’t necessarily a place, its more about the connections I make and the people who understand the parts of me that don’t fit neatly into any one category. In a way, Ive found that home is something I carry with me, a state of mind that isn't quite tied to geography or tradition but is instead woven from the relationships and shared experiences Ive gained along the way.
It’s not always easy and I have to admit that its been a bit of a lonely path. There is no single identity or set of cultural markers I can use as a beacon, but ive come to appreciate that this journey has its own special meaning and that the search itself has shaped me. Its taught me to find belonging in unexpected places and to be okay with not having any clear cut answers to what home is.
But I’ve made plenty of mistakes along the way. There were times when I would misinterpret one set of expectations or try to fit into someone else's idea of who I should be, only to realise that I was drifting further and further from myself. There were also times when I’d try too hard to be more Irish or more Bengali thinking that maybe if I leaned into one side, I'd find a clearer sense of identity. But forcing myself into one box never felt right and just ended up leaving me feeling more disconnected.
One of the biggest lessons Ive learned is that belonging doesn't come from trying to fit others perspectives or expectations. Ironically its been those times when I stepped away from my usual environment, away from the spaces, factors and assumptions I’m most familiar with that I feel closest to understanding myself. Being in a new space where I’m free from the cultural expectations that normally surround me, creates the distance I need to see myself more clearly.
That’s why I love travelling so much. Its not just about experiencing new places, but also finding a perspective that isnt weighed down by the usual norms and roles. Travelling gives me room to reflect and just be, without any pressure to perform any particular identity. Each time I leave and come back, I feel a little closer to knowing who I am, and a little less confined by the expectation that I grew up with.
These moments of distance, whether through travel or simply stepping out of familiar spaces, have shown me that my sense of self isnt bound to any one culture. My identity is something I can build on my own terms, shaped by experiences and not restricted by labels. I'm learning that navigating this in between space is a strength and not a limitation, and that each misstep along the way has helped me understand who I am a bit more clearly.
Learning to accept myself without constantly bending other peoples expectations has been one of the hardest but most necessary lessons. Growing up , I internalised so many ideas about who I should be, not just from my parents but from society as well There's this unspoken standard that you have to do it all; excel academically, embody cultural values, build a solid career, and somehow manage to stay authentic. Balancing all of that is nearly impossible, and for years I felt like I was falling short.
I believed that meeting everyone’s expectations would finally feel like I was enough. But eventually, all that pressure started to take its toll. I realised I’d been so focused on making other people proud that I’d overlooked what I actually wanted or needed. That's when I knew I had to start showing myself a bit more compassion, accepting that its okay if I don't meet every standard set before me.
This journey towards self compassion hasn't been smooth. There are moments when I still question whether what I am doing is enough, whether or not I'm making choices that honour my family’s sacrifices. But I'm learning to let go of the need for perfection. I've stopped trying to fit neatly into other people's ideas of what you should be and instead I started focusing on what feels true to me. Being authentic isn't about meeting every expectation, its more about accepting the imperfections and allowing myself some room to grow on my own terms.
Each time I give myself the grace to make mistakes or follow my own path, I feel a little closer to living a more full life. Self compassion has shown me that I don't have to carry the weight of everyone's expectations. I'm allowed to define success and fulfilment for myself even if it doesn't look like what others might have envisioned.
As I look back to see the sacrifice my parents left for me, I can't help but think about what kind of legacy I want to create for the future. Their journey was one of resilience and survival, a life built around the pursuit of stability and opportunity. While I feel a deep gratitude for everything they've done, my own vision for the future looks different. I want to take what they've given me and build on it in a way that makes space for both ambition and balance with purpose and self fulfilment.
I hope that my future children don't have to carry the same weight of sacrifice and pressure that Ive felt. I want them to have the freedom to explore their own paths without feeling bound to repay the past with achievements. My parents' sacrifices are a part of my story and they will always have a place in what I accomplish, but I want to shift the narrative from obligation to inspiration.
If there's one thing I want to pass on, its the idea that success isnt solely about meeting external standards. Its about living with purpose, resilience, and a sense of connection, but its also about self acceptance and growth. I want those that come after me to know that its okay to carve out a unique path, one that respects where they came from but also honours who they want to become.
Belonging isnt about fitting into a neatly defined category or claiming a single identity. Its about finding peace in the complexity, embracing the parts of myself that doesn't fit anyone’s mould and realising that the beauty of my journey lies in its uniqueness. I belong to both cultures, yet Im not confined by either one. I belong to my family’s legacy, but I'm also crafting my own path, and most importantly, I belong to myself.
This journey has taught me that its possible to honour my heritage without being defined by it, to respect my parents' sacrifices without letting it dictate my future. I may always exist in the space of limbo, but I no longer see it as a limitation, instead it's a space that allows me to be dynamic, and to grow and explore all the facets of who I am, and who I can be.
For others who may feel the same way, navigating multiple worlds, but belonging fully to none, I hope that this reflection shows that its okay to define yourself on your own terms. Being in limbo is not a place of void, but rather a place of possibility. Embracing both the roots that ground me, and the wings that let me fly, Ive found a belonging that outshines location, culture, or expectations. And that to me, is the most meaningful kind of home.
Thank you for reading.
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