Born in one country, reared in another,
I call two women my mother.
How to be the real me –
Somewhere between is my identity.

Yellow on the outside, white on the inside,
Putting them together fills me with pride.
Chinese genes and American jeans –
Somewhere between lies my identity.

Two countries, two flags, both with stars,
More than one child, one country bars.
One is communist, while the other is free –
Somewhere between lives my identity.

Both are my home, one near and one far
In the language of both I am up to par.
With feet firmly planted one in each –