I am a young Asian girl living in a European country related to the international context of external migration: Spain.

All too often, people ask me questions about my family in China and my life as a daughter of immigrants. Nevertheless, people could not know which is the one million euro question.

“Are you Chinese or Spanish?”

The first time people asked me, I hesitated quite a lot. I was nine years old, and I was in school. I answered that I was Spanish, and then my nine-year-old classmates replied that I was Chinese instead of Spanish because my parents are from China and I have Chinese blood. Not only did they say that, but they also said that my traditions, skin color, and eyes are Chinese. For them, no matter how I tried to justify my answer, how I told them that I felt I was Spanish, and how I showed them that I also had Spanish traditions, they would continue replying that I was Chinese.

I was confused. I enjoyed Carnival, Old Lent, the Pooper, and Three Wise Men, etc. I knew and enjoyed their traditions and how to talk in Spanish and Catalan. Not only did I speak those languages, but I also sounded like a native.

Why did they say that I was not Spanish?

The question appeared another time two or three weeks ago. It happened during a Geography class, where we were speaking about migrants, but that time, I did not hesitate.

“Are you Chinese or Spanish?” Our teacher asked me. 

“I am Chinese, teacher.”

“But you are Spanish.” A guy turned his chair to talk to me.

Seven years ago, I answered that I was Spanish, and people said I was Chinese. Two weeks ago, I replied that I was Chinese, and people contradicted me, saying I was Spanish.

Whatever I had answered seven years ago, people would have said I was wrong. The same would have happened two weeks ago.

Whatever I answer, I am wrong.