Between 2 worlds...

What makes someone Indonesian, Dutch, or anything else?

For many people, it seems easy. They see my face, and the answer comes quickly: Indonesian. Yet for me, identity has never been a straight line. It has been a journey — interrupted, reshaped, sometimes painful, but still moving forward.

Yes, I was born in Indonesia. Yes, adoption changed my nationality. And yes, the Netherlands became the place where I grew up, went to school, and built my future. Both realities are true. Neither cancels the other.

For a long time, I thought I had to choose.

My Indonesian friends often embrace me as one of their own, and that generosity touches me deeply. At the same time, I became who I am today in Dutch society. These two worlds live in me together, even when they don’t always sit comfortably side by side. The struggle I sometimes feel is not failure. It is a sign of survival.

There were moments in my early life that no child should experience. My mind learned to protect me. Sometimes that protection still shows up in hesitation, in distance, even in the way my brain resists learning the language of my birth.

Trauma can build walls, but those walls were once there to keep me safe. And here is what I am beginning to understand: moving forward does not require tearing those walls down in one day. It can also mean building doors. Slowly. Gently. I don’t have to prove my Indonesianness to anyone. I don’t have to deny my Dutchness either. My story is bigger than a passport. It is made of loss, but also of endurance, courage, and the stubborn desire to reconnect.

I am allowed to be a work in progress. What matters is not that everything feels natural yet. What matters is that I keep showing up. That I keep returning. That I keep trying to understand where I come from while honouring the person I became. Each visit, each conversation, each new word I learn is a step. Maybe a small one, but it is mine.

This January, I will travel to Bali for personal Bahasa Indonesia lessons. Not to force memory, but to invite it. To give my mind the chance to rediscover something at its own rhythm. Healing and learning can walk together.

I used to think identity meant certainty.

Now I see it can also mean courage.

Courage to stand in between.

Courage to reconnect.

Courage to hope that belonging can grow.

And it does, every time I try.