How a Revelation of His True Ethnicity Sparked an Identity Crisis Amidst Family Traditions
For many, Chinese New Year is a time to reconnect with family, eat festive meals, and celebrate longstanding traditions. But for 28-year-old Benjamin Harris, the celebrations often trigger a deep-seated sense of dislocation, as his upbringing as a Chinese Christian diverges sharply from the truth about his ethnicity—he is Malay, not Chinese.
Benjamin’s story sheds light on the complexities of identity in a multicultural society like Singapore, where ethnic backgrounds often define the frameworks for belonging. Raised in a household steeped in Chinese traditions, Benjamin’s world was shattered before he enlisted for National Service when he discovered that he wasn’t ethnically Chinese. This revelation, coupled with years of being immersed in Chinese culture, forced him to confront unsettling questions about who he really was.
From a young age, Benjamin was raised to embrace Chinese and Christian practices. He attended a Methodist kindergarten, spoke Hokkien with his grandmother, and took part in family celebrations filled with the joy of reunion dinners and the excitement of receiving angbaos. However, it wasn’t until he was 11, when a relative inadvertently revealed his adoption, that Benjamin’s sense of self began to unravel.
Despite knowing he was adopted, Benjamin was kept in the dark about his race. His adoptive mother had kept all documents relating to his birth, including his Identification Card (IC) and birth certificate, leaving him unaware of his true ethnicity. It wasn’t until he found his IC just before his National Service enlistment that the truth hit him—he was Malay.
The discovery led to profound questions about his family and his identity. “In that moment, I no longer felt like I belonged,” he reflects. “It made me question whether my entire childhood was a lie.”
Looking back, Benjamin now realises there were subtle signs of his difference, particularly during his years at Nan Hua Secondary, a school steeped in traditional Chinese values. Despite being raised in a Chinese-Christian household, he was often subjected to microaggressions and racial taunts from classmates, which only exacerbated his feelings of alienation.
Benjamin later learned that his father had converted from Islam to Christianity and had been disowned by his Malay-Muslim family. To escape the shadow of his past, Benjamin’s father had even changed his name. This revelation provided the missing link in understanding why his parents had avoided discussing his race. They continued to raise Benjamin in the Chinese-Christian tradition while keeping his Malay roots hidden from him.
Now grappling with his dual heritage, Benjamin describes the clash between his perceived identity and the one imposed by society. “Being told you’re one race and finding out you’re another is very jarring,” he says. “But in actual fact, I can’t really say I belong to either.”
For many people like Benjamin, racial identity is inextricably linked to cultural authenticity. But what happens when your lived experiences don’t align with your biological heritage? In Benjamin’s case, his deep immersion in Chinese culture left him feeling disconnected from his Malay roots, which he had no exposure to growing up.
Despite the confusion and alienation he feels, Benjamin has begun a journey of cultural rediscovery. He is learning Bahasa Melayu, volunteering with advocacy groups like Lepak Conversations, and spending time with his Malay friends during Hari Raya celebrations. Still, he spends Chinese New Year and other holidays with his partner’s family or friends, viewing them more as markers of time than personal milestones.
As he continues to carve out his sense of identity, Benjamin has begun to redefine cultural traditions for himself. He has embraced the freedom to choose what parts of his heritage to explore, unburdened by the societal pressures that often demand a strict adherence to ethnicity. “I can be just Benjamin—the guy who’s adopted, wears a lot of batik shirts, and isn’t one race or the other,” he says. “It’s liberating to know that I can be fluid.”
Benjamin’s story is not unique. Many individuals wrestle with the tension between inherited cultural practices and the desire to forge their own paths. In Singapore’s diverse and ever-evolving society, belonging is a continuous negotiation—a process of adaptation, acceptance, and sometimes, reinvention. True cultural connection, Benjamin suggests, may not come from rigidly following traditions but from reimagining them in a way that aligns with our authentic selves.
Perhaps, in the end, true belonging lies not in the traditions we inherit but in how we choose to make them our own. And for Benjamin, the journey of self-discovery continues, as he reclaims his story and finds his place in the world.
