This past summer I had the privilege of spending a month in Livingstone, Zambia with a group of 10 undergraduate students. Of the 10 students, eight of us were first-years and sophomores, while the other two were seniors who served as our leaders. The entire experience was made possible by the Pre-Experiencing the World Fellowship Program through the Keough School’s Kellogg Institute for International Studies.
Throughout our four weeks in Zambia we partnered with African Impact, a volunteer organization that aims to support the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals across Africa. In Livingstone, through a range of impactful projects and community-driven initiatives, African Impact aims to support four of these goals in particular: no poverty; good health and well-being; quality education and gender equality.
During our time in Livingstone, we visited the same local school each morning to lead workshops for a group of 5th-grade girls, covering topics such as mental health, women’s health, and self-esteem. In the afternoons, we split up and engaged in various projects and initiatives. For instance, we went to many after-school activities to help children understand math, reading, personal health and hygiene.
On one of those afternoons, I went to one of the reading clubs at a school where we spent two hours working with middle school students on spelling and pronunciation. I would read a vocabulary word and then choose a student to come up and try to spell it on the blackboard. It was soon clear to me that the four kids in the front had much stronger English skills than the kids in the back. Wanting to support the students who were struggling, I began calling on the kids in the back more often. As typical 12-year-olds tend to do, some grew impatient. The four students in the front decided that the best way to get my attention was to point at me and shout, “China! China! China!” at the top of their lungs. This made perfect sense to them: I look Asian, so I must be from China.
I am a second-generation immigrant — my parents were born in China, but I was born here in the United States. Yes, the kids correctly identified my Chinese ethnicity, but they were also incorrectly assuming my nationality. In their eyes, there was no distinction between ethnicity and nationality: white-looking people had to be from Europe or the U.S., and Asian-looking people had to be from China. Even local Zambian adults gave me a strange look when I spoke perfect English and told them that I was from America and not China. This reaction was unfamiliar to me. Growing up in America as an Asian American, there have definitely been times where I’ve faced moments of shame and have had inner struggles regarding my race and ethnicity, but I’ve still always still identified as an American.
school in Livingstone, Zambia.
Looking back on this interaction and my experience as a whole, it was hard to discern whether the children’s behavior came from racism or simply genuine curiosity. Sure, many of the Zambian kids I interacted with were probably genuinely curious about who I am. After all, they probably haven’t had the opportunity to talk to that many Asian- looking people in their lives, if any. And if they have, it was probably limited to seeing Chinese workers from the Belt and Road Initiative from a distance. More broadly, this experience taught me more about myself and sparked a deeper interest in my identity.
My experiences in Zambia taught me that America truly is a melting pot—a blend of diverse cultures that come together to shape the nation as we know it. But it also reminded me of a familiar reality that I’ve encountered at home: assumptions about identity–and who “belongs”–exist everywhere. Especially in today’s political landscape, identity and what it means to be “American” is a hotly contested topic. After going to Zambia, I hope to study abroad in China at some point to develop a deeper understanding of my own identity and heritage. Experiences like the one I had in Zambia aren't just about helping others; they can also provide an opportunity to learn about the world and yourself.
Stephen Wu is a Notre Dame sophomore majoring in finance and global affairs.