Neither/Nor: The Strange Gift of Cultural Outsiderhood

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

Part Four: "Excuse Me, I Was Speaking" — Cultural Scripts for Communication

Neither/Nor — The Strange Gift of Cultural Outsiderhood

This post is about the experience of cultural outsiderhood — not the dramatic kind, but the subtle, daily experience of moving through the world slightly out of step. It's about the dissonance that wakes you up, the small humiliations that sharpen you, and the surprising clarity that can come when you realise you don't quite belong — and maybe never did.

The Quiet Rules You Don't Learn in Books

One of the things I noticed early on while living abroad was how many unspoken rules govern social life — and how little they're discussed. It's not just what people say, but when, how, and why. In France, there's a rhythm to conversations that can feel abrupt to outsiders — but once you're inside it, it starts to make a certain kind of sense. In Singapore, indirectness was often a form of care, but it took me years to understand that silence didn't always mean disapproval, and a nod didn't always mean agreement.

All this I learned along the way, usually by putting my foot in in my mouth. Like the time I complained to customer service in the way I'd seen done in Australia — loud, frustrated, entitled. In Singapore, this kind of emotional escalation didn't yield results; it just earned me quiet resistance. I realised how ineffective and, frankly, juvenile it looked through other people's eyes. And I felt exposed.

Another time, a flatmate asked seemingly innocuous questions about my girlfriend, probing gently but persistently. I thought they were empathising; only later did I realise they were trying to tell me something was off — without ever saying it directly. This kind of subtle communication, so common in Southeast Asia, had flown right over my head.

These were humbling moments. Each time, there was a small sting of embarrassment — but also an invitation to go deeper. Not just to understand others, but to see my own instincts with more perspective. 

Those moments were rich with learning — not just about other people, but about myself. They teach humility — not as a moral virtue, but as a survival skill. 

Being on the outside of these norms sharpened my ability to observe. I became a kind of social detective — watching for signals, patterns, moments of tension. You start to listen more closely. You ask better questions. You let go of the need to always "get it right."

Over time, this awareness became less about fitting in, and more about learning how many different forms of emotional fluency exist in the world.

The Messy Beauty of Mixed Loyalties

Cultural outsiderhood can come with a sense of betrayal — of leaving one world behind, or not being loyal enough to the one you came from. I've felt this in the little moments: struggling to explain a cultural reference to someone who doesn't share it, or finding myself defending a place I no longer live in.

But these in-between spaces are also deeply generative. They force you to think critically about who you are and what you value. They give you access to multiple lenses. And they invite you to become more intentional about your identity — not just as something inherited, but as something shaped.

In Therapy, It's a Superpower

These experiences have shaped how I work with clients. When someone feels out of place — whether because of culture, language, history, or identity — I don't rush to reassure them that they belong. I want to honour what it means to feel like an outsider. Because in that discomfort, there's often a deep intelligence at work — a sensitivity, a questioning spirit, a creative tension.

Therapy becomes a place to make use of that outsider wisdom, rather than dismiss it. To turn it into a resource, not a liability.

What I've Learned in the Space Between

I no longer believe that belonging has to mean full identification with a single place or group. Sometimes, the most meaningful belonging comes from shared values, a sense of resonance, or simply being understood — even if only briefly.

I've stopped waiting for the day I'll feel completely "at home." Instead, I've come to appreciate the clarity that can come from outsiderhood: the ability to see what's usually invisible, to hold multiple truths, and to inhabit contradictions without needing to resolve them.

I'm still between worlds. But now, I think that's where I do my best living.

Reflection Prompts

1. In what situations do you feel like an outsider — and what does that position teach you?
2. What social norms or emotional "rules" have you had to relearn in a new context?
3. How might your discomfort contain a kind of intelligence?

Activity 1: Mapping Your Worlds

Where do you come from — not just geographically, but relationally, culturally, historically?

This activity invites you to visualise the many layers that have shaped you. It's not about narrowing yourself down, but about noticing the richness of all that has made you.

Activity 2: What I've Lost, What I've Gained

Living between worlds often involves letting go of some things while embracing others.

Use this exercise to gently acknowledge what's changed you — and reflect on the surprising gifts that may have emerged along the way.

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.