Monachopsis

On a large campus like UC San Diego, but even in a larger context of San Diego, California, the United States, the diverse communities filled with different identities often provide rich knowledge, experiences, and advancements. Yet the origins of these identities are often left unaccounted for. Minority groups often face the daily expectations of fast-paced life, yet are left to wonder how to deal with the immense feeling of homesickness for something they cannot return to. For me, my home was more than a place, more than a country. It was the rich history of my ancestors, the calligraphy lessons and the traditional music, playing soccer at the dead end of my childhood home, eating ice cream that is supposed to look like a panda but is closer to blobs of color. My home is mothers who risk their lives protesting so that their daughters can have a chance to freely live, fathers who work in an economy earning salaries that barely cover their basic needs. My home is youth who wish to live life the way they see once in a while on their phones when the government isn’t restricting the internet, youth who die on the streets because it is better than living under a regime that hates its people. How does one return to this home? On a large campus like UC San Diego, I am just one body who feels homesick, and thousands more too. How do we continue on?