How a journey through Taiwan became a journey through my Taiwanese identity

Taipei Main Train Station. A hub of trains, buses and the efficient Metro system that connects Taipei to its suburbs and beyond, a crossroad of sorts, where announcements are made in Taiwanese, Chinese Mandarin, Chinese Hakka and English.

I’m in Taiwan on a personal journey of curiosity, in an attempt to find just what makes one Taiwanese—and at the same time, whether I could ever feel Taiwanese enough. But among a throng of commuters and hearing at least three languages being spoken simultaneously, I’m already confused.

I was born here, but having moved to Australia as a 10-year-old to live with my aunt and uncle—whose style of parenting was more about giving me confidence in the world than connecting with our heritage—I never had the chance to learn what it is that makes me Taiwanese, or to identify with Taiwan as my homeland. Add to that the confusion of needing to fit in at school in a society where subtle racism was common, where, if you had called yourself another nationality, then you are not Australian. This meant, as time went on, I even began to reject the idea that I could be anything but Australian.

Now older and wiser, and more politically aware, I noticed Taiwan being consistently mentioned in the news between the nation’s desire to be recognized as a country again, and China’s insistence on their sovereignty over Taiwan. I began to question the idea of identity—my own, as well as that of the Taiwanese people.

It’s not just me. Taiwan’s own identity is being questioned too. Once recognized by the world, it lost its internationally recognized identity as a nation in its own right in the 1970s and is classed as part of China who see Taiwan as a breakaway province, set up in response to the Communist Party of China taking control in 1949.

I wondered if the Taiwanese—amid the international attention with China desiring reunification—also feel the same imbalance to identify just what makes a Taiwanese feel Taiwanese.

Taiwan, or the Republic of China, is a nation or a region—depending on which side of politics you are on. To the outsider, the notion of identity is sometimes as simple as “Is it a country or not?”, but to the Taiwanese, it’s a lot more complex.

That’s why I felt the best way to learn more about this fascinating island nation, as well as my own heritage, was to pay a visit.

Starting from the capital, my plan is to circumnavigate this island by train, stopping at places that might give me an idea of the scale of the modern Taiwan… anything to see if I could pinpoint the Taiwanese identity, and my place in it.

My first train out of Taipei is the Taroko Express, a service that pays tribute to the Taroko Gorge and the Truku people, one of the 16 Indigenous tribes on the island. ‘Taroko’ in the Truku language means “magnificent and splendid”, a seemingly apt way to describe the gorge, a striking marble ravine dug deeply into the 27 mountain peaks above.

It’s a place of both beauty and tragedy—while it’s a spectacular spot, especially for hiking, some of the most fierce battles between the Aborigines people of Taiwan and other colonizers were also fought here.

The more I traveled around, the more I come to realize that it might be the opposite here—that the Taiwanese are a nation of people who refuse to let history dictate their identity.

Carrying on southwards along the rugged east coast, I stop at Taitung, a city and region on the southeast coast of Taiwan, and take a break in the murky sulphuric waters of the area’s hot spring resorts. Between 1895 to 1945, Japan colonized Taiwan, making this island part of their own empire. In fact, many of Taiwan’s most important buildings, such as the Taipei Main Train station and the Presidential Palace, were built by the Japanese during this era. The Japanese found Taiwan abundant in natural resources, including the hot springs—and it’s in Taitung’s mountainous surroundings where the Japanese concentrated their hot spring resorts.

Growing up, my version of Taiwan was of a very proud and nationalist nation, one that goes beyond the breakaway from the mainland in 1949. My next stage takes me westwards towards the cities of Kaohsiung and Tainan, two cities that to me represent the old and new Taiwan, where I hope to find more of Taiwan’s past, and see how the Taiwanese are progressing towards a future.

The Portuguese were the first Europeans to sail past Taiwan en route to their eventual colony in Macau. Seeing the lush green landscape against the blue waters of the South China Sea, they aptly named Taiwan the ‘Ilha Formosa’—the Beautiful Island. The Dutch had set up colony in the 17th century on the south of the island and Tainan was their capital.

Kaohsiung was turned into a port during the Qing dynasty. Today, the city’s skyscrapers and the developed harbor is a display of modern Taiwan, one that celebrates an open and modernized society. I had the feeling that while Taiwan may not be able to match China on population and military might, it is making its own stance on its freedom and democracy. Taiwan was the first Asian country to legalize same-sex marriage—something that even I, a distant-observing Taiwanese, can be proud of.

By contrast, Tainan, Taiwan’s oldest city, tells the story of a more traditional Taiwan. After the Dutch, Chinese settlers from the Ming, then later, the Qing dynasties of China further built upon the city, and made this the capital of Taiwan between 1683–1887. When the Japanese colonized Taiwan in 1895, they moved the capital to Taipei, but not without making an imprint on Tainan’s development. So it was no surprise I found a place in Tainan that perfectly describes Taiwan.

The architecture of Chikan Tower, inside Fort Provintia, is interesting. Its foundations are Dutch, built to defend this Dutch outpost and its spice cargo from invaders—canons are still scattered around the European fort design—while the main tower building has been modified by the Chinese, and adorned with Japanese flair. The tower is currently being transformed into a museum, scheduled to open in 2024. Inside, visitors will find important historical artefacts including documents and letters left by the Dutch during their control over this part of Taiwan.

As I travel, I have been trying to find out what people thought of their Taiwanese identity—I  remember a history teacher once told me that it is a nation’s history that defines its people. However, the more I traveled around, the more I come to realize that it might be the opposite here—that the Taiwanese are a nation of people who refuse to let history dictate their identity.

I return to Taipei by high-speed rail, Taiwan’s version of Japan’s Shinkansen. Standing in the middle of Taipei’s Freedom Square, I strike up a conversation with a Mr Jian, who works in a nearby hospital. I ask him what it means to be Taiwanese.

Later that day, curiosity took me to one of the ‘fortune tellers’ in Taiwan where a bird picks out your life’s path from a basket of fortunes. When asked what I’m looking for, I told the lady that I was looking for who I am.

After some thought, he says, “To be Taiwanese, the very least you have to love this place.” He explains there’s no single look or race that defines the Taiwanese—even previous colonizers, including Europeans, have loved Taiwan so much that they stayed and called themselves Taiwanese, he tells me.

He adds that to be Taiwanese is to be free, while making an extra point in the air with his finger. “If you say anything negative about Xi in China, you can ‘disappear’. In Taiwan, you can criticize the president, and no-one really cares!”

Later that day, I start talking to a fellow diner at a streetside restaurant. I ask her the same question. “I’m proud to say I’m Taiwanese. I belong in Taiwan. It doesn’t really matter where you’re from, whether you were born here or not—as long as you live here and you love the country, then you’re Taiwanese.”

Among the chaos of politics and the nation’s layers of history, I feel the Taiwanese identity is more an attitude, rather than one dictated by geography and race. An attitude bonds the people, and that is simply to be Taiwanese and be free. As for me, I’ve learned to be OK with multiple identities.

Later that day, curiosity took me to one of the ‘fortune tellers’ in Taiwan where a bird picks out your life’s path from a basket of fortunes. When asked what I’m looking for, I told the lady that I was looking for who I am.

“The bird won’t be able to tell you that,” she said. She shook her head and gave me back my money. “Have you tried to look in the mirror? What do you see?”

I realize she’s right and the answer was with me all along. I am Australian. I am Taiwanese. I am a Londoner. I can define my own identity.

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