Getting to the Next Level of Your Personal Evolution
Every next level of your life will demand a different you
I grew up in a family of political writers in China. For generations, members of my family were persecuted by the Chinese government and considered “dissidents.” My parents and I eventually fled China as political refugees.
How it feels to be a refugee
If you’ve never been a refugee, then you may be surprised to know that being an refugee is an identity. This identity comprises of values in:
- Spirit of survival — Refugees structure their lives to be experts at survival. This gives us confidence to overcome any life-threatening situation.
- Deep sadness — The fact that we’re now refugees is sad, but deeper sadness comes from how we, and generations above us, suffered heart-breaking turmoil (war, ambush, death).
- Strong Defiance — We have hopelessly idealistic values and we upload them at the risk political oppression. Truth is one of our values.
- Hyper-vigilance — Subtle events can make us suspicious. A slight of eye by a passerby can trigger us suspect a conspiracy.
Upside of the refugee identity is drive for survival
My family maintained a sense of hyper-vigilance to unsafe situations. We trained our bodies for survival. As I a kid, I learned multiple forms of escape, across any terrain. I practiced running, swimming, ice-skating, biking, and even climbing trees.
I learned to drive a stick shift because in case the only getaway car available was a stick shift, I could drive it. In school, I ran on a track team and swam on a swim team.
It’s much more important to do well at a swim meet than it was to do well in class. Swimming was for survival, while class was just a formality that I had to do, because that’s what kids do.
That’s just the physical preparation. Even more key is the mental and emotional preparation. Mentally, I learned to assimilate. Look, talk, and act agreeably. Stay cool in any situation. Enter an environment and carbon copy the social behaviors of people there.
Emotionally, I learned to flip on and off emotions quickly. For example, during a court interrogation, I’d flip on anger, then flip anger into creativity, then use creativity to talk my way out.
You’ll find refugees to be some of the most respectful, well-mannered, socially-conforming people you’ll ever meet. We act like our lives depended on having good manners. And that’s because it once did.
At the end of the day, as refugees, we are ready to out-talk, out-smart, out-maneuver any threat that comes our way.
Downside of the refugee identity is lack of authenticity
To be an successful refugee, you must be skilled at hiding your authentic self. For the first 20-some years of my life, I chameleoned to suit my environment.
I shielded my true self under multiple layers of defense mechanisms. But in all fairness, I didn’t know who my true self was anyway.
Within a refugee identity, there is no space for authenticity.
For refugees, it is easier to assume a fake persona than it is to live our authentic self.
How to know your identity is obsolete
When I was 24, I drove across America from the midwest to Washington. With me in my car, were all my belongings and two large Boba teas from Joy Yee, a tea shop in Chicago. In some ways, I was running away again. I was carrying all my stuff, and I armed myself with big supply of my favorite drink.
While driving down a flat road in one of the midwestern states, I passed by a billboard that said:
God will keep you safe.
It was the first time I’d seen this statement. Up to that point of my life, I was preparing to flee from unsafe situations. But when I saw the billboard, I discovered a new belief — If I’m in an unsafe situation, something called god will keep me safe.
As I continued on my drive, I thought about that billboard. That’s when I realized that I had all those skills in running away, but I really didn’t need them anymore.
Those skills helped my parents’ and grandparents’ generation survive. But the truth is —
Those skills were what kept them safe in their world. But those skills are no longer relevant in my world, because my world has changed.
And so, I decided to let go of my refugee identity.
How it feels to get a new identity
When I first began to shed my refugee identity, I often felt confused. I knew who I didn’t want to be, but I didn’t know much about the new me either.
I often busied myself with activities, because it’s easier to do something than it is to be someone.
How to let go of your old identity
Over time, I found people and stories that inspired me. That helped me define I wanted to become — the image of my new identity began to form.
I noticed actions that I did that no longer served me. Those actions served the old me, but it wasn’t going to serve the new me.
I used to run very long distances. I stopped doing that. I used to swim countless laps. I stopped that too. When I started to run less, and began to pray more.
I stopped copying other people’s behaviors. Instead, I behaved in ways I was comfortable with. When I did that, I began to feel light.
I stopped following along with whatever society said was right. Instead, I thought and did what I believed in. When I did that, I felt free.
I stopped trying to be agreeable for the sake of fitting in. Instead, I expressed my truth and others began to see the real me. When I did that, I felt deep human connection.
I stopped blindly worshipping American culture. When I did that, I began to feel enormous gratitude for my Chinese culture.
I brought Chinese values back into my life — wisdom, compassion, humility, harmony.
At the same time, I held onto aspects of my old identity, including the deep sadness and spirit of survival.
In sadness and survival, I see beauty and strength.
How to continue evolving your identity
A few years after I’ve established my new identity, I began to feel that my new identity no longer served me. I was 27.
Once again, I noticed that my identity and skills were becoming obsolete in my then environment.
This put me back in the familiar territory of identity crisis. I knew I didn’t want to keep my current identity, but I didn’t know who I wanted to be. In my rudderless daze, I applied to graduate schools. Certainly, school had the answers.
I applied to a PhD program in public health to a business school.
Months later, I enrolled an MBA student at Stanford. On the first day of orientiation, my classmates and I did an ice-breaker. Each person were to say 3 words that identified them. Upon my turn, I said:
“I’m a Work In Progress.”
