The hidden minority

John pores over the selection at the lunchtime buffet, picking a plateful of items and sliding his tray down the rail. "This. This. This," he says pointing to the aubergine, asparagus and a small fish. The woman behind the counter fills his order and hands him his plate with a question. "What did she say?" he turns to ask.

"Do you want soup?" I tell him.

"No. Thank you," he answers her in newly minted Chinese, the kind you'd expect from most anyone who has been in Taiwan only a couple of months.

Except John is Chinese -- or rather Chinese-American -- and though 23 years old, is only just starting to learn the language and culture of a country he left as an infant. He's part of a minority in Taiwan that isn't defined by ethnicity or skin color -- at a glance he looks every bit as native to Taiwan as the woman behind the counter -- but by a difference in upbringing that he feels will prevent him from ever fully assimilating into the country he now shares with aunts, uncles, cousins and a pair of grandparents with whom he's unable to communicate.

But John's situation is extreme. The majority of hua chiao (華僑), or overseas Chinese, coming to live and work in Taiwan already have a grasp of the language, having spoken it with their parents growing up. John, who agreed to tell his story on condition that his name be changed, was not as fortunate. He is technically a "little foreign student" (小留學生), or those hua chiao who were born in Taiwan but moved abroad before entering school. Often, "little foreign students" have a working knowledge of Mandarin for having been immersed in it during their formative years. John grew up under different circumstances.

"My parents could both speak English before we moved to the US, but I guess not so well. They wanted me to speak it fluently, without any accent, and to fit into American culture. So they only ever spoke English with me," he said. "Now they're embarrassed that I can't speak Chinese and think it's important for me to learn it and to learn about my heritage."

For the past two months, he's been living with an aunt and uncle and their two teenage children, teaching English and attending Chinese classes during the day. "I don't think they like me," he says of his relatives. "They love that their kids have a live-in English teacher, but there's a lot of distance between us. They keep me at arms-length."

Inheritance denied

His sentiments are shared to greater or lesser degrees by most everyone interviewed for this article. In talks with more than a dozen overseas Chinese -- and at least as many people born and raised in Taiwan -- the general consensus was that it is impossible for hua chiao to completely assimilate into local culture. The variables, most overseas Chinese suggested, are their degree of language proficiency and the amount of time they had spent away from Taiwan; the greater their fluency in Chinese, the more they are able to fit in, but the longer they'd been away, the harder it is to assimilate.

For their part, local Taiwanese often say they can spot an "ABC," or American-born Chinese, even before they speak. They claim that the way they dress, their hairstyle or make-up are telltale signs. "You can always tell an ABC by their shoes," one local girl claimed. "They're expensive and always match what they're wearing."