This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Yangyang Guo, 34, a Chinese American now living in China. Her words have been edited for length and clarity.
I was born in Beijing and moved to Rhode Island at 8. My twin sister and I didn’t speak English and were two of only three Asian kids at school. Even before I understood the words, I could tell people were making fun of me.
At first, our parents didn’t let us speak Chinese at home so that we’d learn English faster. A year later, when I could barely write my own name, they panicked and had us relearn it.
When I started at Duke University, I was shocked by how many Asian students there were. I was used to being the only one in the room.
I majored in economics but discovered theater along the way, and chose to make it my minor. That’s how I realized how much I loved being onstage, telling stories, and connecting with an audience.
The summer after freshman year, I returned to China to study ancient Chinese and was amazed at how much had changed since I had left the country in 1999.
From banking to acting
After graduation, I applied for jobs in New York and got hired as an investment banking analyst.
When I asked my boss if I could take one acting class a week, she told me I wasn’t committed enough.
Another time, as Hurricane Sandy approached and courier services were suspended, she insisted I hand-deliver a contract across the city. The group head ultimately suggested we fax it instead, sparing me the trip through the storm.
I could handle the long hours, but not the disrespect. After just over a year, I quit, joined an acting program in the city, and started going to auditions.
Opportunities for non-white actors were limited at the time. At one audition, for a play about an Italian-American wedding, the only Asian role was to enter, speak Mandarin, and serve as the butt of the joke.
One of my Duke professors, a close mentor, told me about a master’s program at the Shanghai Theatre Academy.
My mom had always dreamed of retiring in China, but had recently died. The program felt like a way to reconnect with her homeland — and my own. In August 2016, I packed my bags and set off for Shanghai.
Finding my stage in China
Shanghai felt modern and convenient, but adjusting wasn’t easy. At first, people assumed I was local and got frustrated when I spoke broken Chinese; when I switched to English, they became polite after realizing I was a foreigner.
Nine years later, that dynamic has shifted. With rising cultural pride, people now ask, “Why don’t you speak Chinese?”
My theater program was taught in English, and the faculty were supportive. In my first year, I landed roles I never could have had in the US, including the off-Broadway transfer of “Collective Rage: A Play in Five Betties” and Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” at the National Center for the Performing Arts in Beijing.
Back then, foreign actors had easier opportunities; post-COVID, the process is far more bureaucratic.
Financially able to pursue my passions
Moving to China was the right choice. Here, I’ve come up with a way to maintain financial stability while pursuing my passion.
I help about a dozen students a year apply to US colleges, guiding them on schools, majors, extracurriculars, internships, interviews, and the SATs.
We meet up every other week during their freshman and sophomore years and increase to weekly meetings starting in the second half of junior year. More than an application coach, I see myself as a mentor, hoping the lessons carry into other parts of their lives.
These days, most of my income comes from college counseling, though I still take on the occasional commercial or voice-acting gig.
That stability has given me the freedom to be creative without worrying about making ends meet. In the US, I’d probably be a starving artist waiting tables, but here I earn enough to focus on my passion, which has now expanded to include scriptwriting.
I’m currently writing a solo theater show about my mother. Like many Asian daughters, I’ve had a complicated relationship with her, but I feel I have the support system here to bring the show to life.
My dad supported my move initially, but he expected I’d come back after graduation. When I didn’t, he told me he didn’t understand my decision. After recent US political shifts, he stopped trying to convince me to return.
I still go back once a year. I feel American when I’m there. But the longer I stay in China, the more it feels like home.
Do you have a story about moving to Asia that you want to share? Get in touch with the editor: akarplus@businessinsider.com.
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