What happens when we step outside the culture we were raised in? Between Worlds: Reflections on Culture, Identity, and Living Abroad is a five-part series exploring how life abroad reshapes our sense of self, belonging, and how we relate to others.
Welcome to the fourth post of this five part series.
Part One: The Culture We Carry: How Our Inner Worlds Shape Life Abroad
Part Two: Masc 2.0 — Rethinking Masculinity Abroad
Part Three: The Pride We Carry — Belonging, Shame, and Cultural Identity
In Australia, I learned to speak up. Or at least, that was the expectation — that if you had something to say, you said it. That being outspoken, witty, and assertive meant you were confident. That taking up space in a conversation proved your worth. And as a boy, it was even more specific: command the room, be listened to, have the last word. Leadership was loud. Respect was dominance. Talking over people wasn't rude — it was proof that you belonged.
But what if you take those rules somewhere else?
When I first moved abroad, I didn't just have to learn new languages. I had to unlearn a whole system of social cues — when to speak, when to wait, how to disagree. In Singapore, I encountered a conversational world where silence could hold more meaning than speech, where critique was subtle and indirect, where hierarchy wasn't something to challenge but to respect. Where the loudest voice didn't win — in fact, it was often quietly ignored.
At first, I missed the point completely.
What I saw as "friendly assertiveness" could land as arrogant or overbearing. Attempts to "break the ice" sometimes made others withdraw. The way I'd learned to argue — directly, passionately, with a dash of theatrical frustration — felt juvenile in a place where calm composure signalled maturity. In customer service situations, I'd get frustrated and escalate — expecting that intensity would lead to urgency. Instead, I met blank stares, polite disengagement, or a firm boundary that couldn't be moved. What I didn't understand yet was that my emotional display had undermined my credibility.
I began to see how deeply shaped I was by my home culture — and not always in ways I liked.
Being abroad revealed how much I had internalised a kind of masculine performance: to be opinionated, independent, and noticeable. To show that I mattered. Even the colonial hangover of being Australian — that old post-imperial insecurity — played into this. I felt like I had to prove myself in every interaction, to show I was worth taking seriously. But in trying to assert myself, I often missed the very cues that others were using to extend connection.
Singapore taught me different things. That part of being trustworthy was knowing how to contain yourself. That being dependable, soft-spoken, emotionally generous, and consistent was a form of strength — not weakness. That community mattered more than charisma. That to support others well, you didn't need to be the most impressive person in the room. You needed to be the most attentive.
I had to listen more. Speak less. And rethink the idea that my "natural" communication style was natural at all.
Looking back now, I can see how informative this change was to how I would eventually approach the process of therapy with my clients. Therapy is, at its heart, a conversation — and conversations are shaped by culture. When a client and I come from different worlds, we might use the same language but hear completely different things. I've worked with people who find directness painful, who interpret neutrality as coldness, who expect advice, or who see silence as care. None of those responses are wrong. They just follow a different script.
Living across cultures has made me more attuned to the implicit rules behind communication — and to the stories we carry about what it means to speak, to be heard, to belong.
And now? I still take up space sometimes — but I also know when to step aside. I know that listening is a form of presence. That holding back can be an act of love. And that being understood often starts with learning how to understand.
How were you taught to communicate disagreement or critique? Has that changed abroad?
Have you ever felt "rude" or "silenced" in another culture's communication style?
What parts of your communication style feel most "you" — and what might be shaped by your culture?
Download the worksheet here to create a "communication profile" comparing your culture of origin and your host culture on categories like directness vs indirectness, emotional expressiveness, use of silence, and more.
When you live between cultures, you're often not fully this or that. But outsiderhood isn't just a gap — it can be a vantage point.
About this series: Between Worlds: Reflections on Culture, Identity, and Living Abroad is a five-part blog series exploring the often-unseen emotional and psychological layers of life between cultures. Drawing from my own experiences living abroad and working as a therapist with international clients, these posts explore how identity, communication, belonging, and values shift when we step outside the familiar. Each piece blends personal reflection with questions and exercises to help you explore your own journey — whether you're a seasoned expat, a newcomer, or simply curious about the complexities of cultural life.
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What happens when we step outside the culture we were raised in? Between Worlds: Reflections on Culture, Identity, and Living Abroad is a five-part series exploring how life abroad reshapes our sense of self, belonging, and how we relate to others.
What happens when we step outside the culture we were raised in? Between Worlds: Reflections on Culture, Identity, and Living Abroad is a five-part series exploring how life abroad reshapes our sense of self, belonging, and how we relate to others.