Belonging – A Personal Journey Between Worlds

The search for belonging is something most people experience in one way or another. For those of us who are adopted, that feeling can often be even more complex—a longing to find that missing piece of ourselves that explains who we are and where we truly belong.

As many of you know, I grew up in Sweden, with all that entails—the traditions, the language, the culture. It’s where I made my earliest memories, where my family is, and where the foundation of who I am today was built. Yet, at the same time, I’ve always carried my roots in Sri Lanka with me.

When I was younger, I often wondered what my life would have been like if I had stayed there. What did the people in my birth country look like? Would I have been a different person, shaped by a different environment?

In adulthood, I found answers to some of those questions. I was reunited with my biological family—an experience that gave me a level of self-awareness and identity I didn’t realize I was missing, but which turned out to be incredibly important for me.

It didn’t change my love or sense of belonging to my Swedish family—they will always be my real family—but returning to Sri Lanka gave me a deeper understanding of where I come from.

I’ve traveled a lot, lived abroad, and explored places far from what was once my home. This freedom has given me invaluable experiences, but it has also presented a different kind of challenge: Being identified as someone I’m not.

No matter where I’ve been in the world—including Sweden—almost 98% of the people I meet assume I’m from Eritrea or Ethiopia. I’ve gotten so used to it that it has almost become a social experiment, where I let people guess before revealing my true story.

So when I came to Rwanda, I felt a certain anticipation. Would I, as in so many other countries, immediately be seen as just another outsider from the West—or something else entirely?

And sure enough, here too, people assumed at first glance that I was Eritrean, with Ethiopia as the second guess. It’s as if my appearance carries a story the world is constantly trying to interpret—reflecting something deeper about expectations, culture, and identity.

During my time in Rwanda, I’ve tried to blend in—but without losing the core of who I am. It hasn’t been a quick process. It took almost 1.5 months before I genuinely felt accepted here.

I believe this is something most people who come here can relate to—regardless of background or nationality. In Rwanda, belonging isn’t something that’s given immediately; it’s something you earn over time through how you engage with the people, the culture, and the country itself.

I notice that I stand out in many ways. I see it in the glances I get, those quick looks, or the thoughtful expressions when I walk by. I can feel it in the silence as if people are trying to figure out what story I carry with me.

But something strange happened the other day. I decided to braid my hair—not to blend in, but simply because I wanted to. And that’s when something unexpected shifted.

It was as if an invisible barrier suddenly broke. People who had previously given me curious, reserved looks began to smile. They greeted me, started small conversations in a way that felt more relaxed and open.

Maybe it was because, in their eyes, I now looked like I belonged. Or maybe it was something more subtle—a signal that I wasn’t just another visitor from the West, but someone who respected their culture enough to engage with its expression.

Belonging Is Not About Where You Are – But Who You Are

The idea of belonging is a strange one. Sometimes we think it’s about fitting in, about blending into a new place, or changing ourselves to be accepted. But the truth is, it’s often about holding onto who you are—while remaining open enough to truly understand others.

My journey through Rwanda hasn’t just been an adventure in a new land—it’s been a reminder that belonging isn’t defined by a place but by the relationships and experiences we create there.

And right now, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m carrying both my Sri Lanka and my Sweden with me—while also creating a small corner of home right here in Rwanda.