“Too Foreign For Home, Too Brown For Here” — What It Means, And What It Feels Like

by Barbara Yakimchuk

“Too Foreign For Home, Too Brown For Here” — What It Means, And What It Feels Like

23 Jul 2025

I am not sure if everyone feels this, but I would bet most people who have ever moved to a new place have run into it at some point. That strange sense of loss — a quiet kind of homesickness that doesn’t really go away. A sense of belonging you have lost — but subtly. Like a soft buzzing near your ear… always there, never loud, never dramatic. It doesn’t knock you over — but it lingers. Too small to justify a therapy session, yet too big to fully ignore.

That is really what this article is about — trying to dig into that feeling, give it a voice, and maybe even realise it isn’t just you. Luckily, I have got my personal psychologist here to help us unpack it.

How does it feel?

If you have ever been through it, you probably know how to describe it — at least in your own way. But for those who haven’t... Let me try to explain what it actually feels like (not fishing for sympathy or understanding, promise).

Psychologists have a word for it: liminality. It describes that in-between state — when your old identity, your former role or sense of self, has already faded, but the new one hasn’t quite formed yet. And the strange thing is, it doesn’t hit you straight away.

When you first move somewhere new, your brain is occupied with logistics: setting up bills, finding a place to rent, figuring out which supermarket has decent food at a fair price. It is all very practical. And emotionally, things feel relatively clear at first — you miss home, you are excited for what is ahead, maybe you feel a bit lonely. But those feelings are expected. Familiar.

And the one I am talking about? It isn't.

This one sneaks in later — once everything is more or less sorted, but something still feels off. Like when you have got a doctor’s appointment, and you find yourself trying to get out of it — not because of the cost, but because it just feels different here. Or when you grab coffee with someone and your conversations stay on the surface — still nice, but not quite how they used to be.

And the strangest thing? Sometimes it hits even harder when you go back home after some time away — and realise how much has changed, and how little of it had anything to do with you. I remember going back once, stopping by my old café to grab a coffee and a pastry, and I had no idea where to tap my card. It was such a small thing — but oddly disorienting. Like the place remembered me less than I remembered it.

Photo: Ahmed

Psychological view on it

What is this feeling, really?

At its core, this feeling comes from a very human need: the desire to belong. Belonging is one of our most basic motivations — we all crave acceptance and connection. Countless studies have shown that even from a young age, children (and later teenagers) naturally seek out groups. They want to be acknowledged, to feel part of something.

You probably remember it from school — when your year was split into different classes. There was always a quiet sort of rivalry. Nothing dramatic, nothing extreme — but it was there. That subtle sense of “us” and “them.”

Belonging, then, is both biological and social — and it is deeply linked to our overall wellbeing. But when you live in that in-between space — not quite here, not fully there — your sense of belonging can start to slip. That is when the inner conflict begins.

Photo: blackieshoot

Does it always feel “bad”?

In moments of crisis or emotional stress — yes, it often does. That sense of not fully belonging can chip away at your self-esteem and unsettle your sense of security.

But in many cases, this “double identity” can actually be a strength. It fosters adaptability and a broader perspective. One important factor is who you are surrounded by. Usually, expats living in areas with higher ethnic density — where more people share a similar background — often feel more supported and tend to report better mental health than those in smaller, more isolated minority communities.

Will the feeling ever go away?

It will likely soften over time. The experience of immigration — of shifting what you call "home" — often mirrors the emotional stages we go through when processing loss, like bereavement or a breakup.

First comes assimilation — adapting to the new culture and gradually letting go of the original. Then separation — rejecting the new and holding tight to the old. And eventually, either integration (embracing both cultures) or marginalisation (not fully identifying with either).

These stages don’t follow a strict timeline. They are often messy and blurred, and transitions between them can be triggered by moments of emotional upheaval.

Practical advice: psychological tools

Whenever I ask my psychologist for a "tool," she usually turns the question back to me. Because the truth is — we are all different. We want different things, we feel things in different ways. As she always says: "Therapy really starts when you begin to understand the problem — and your place within it."

Here are a few small tools that can help along the way:

Give the feeling a name

One of the most unsettling things is feeling something you can’t explain. So try to name it. Define it. Describe it in your own words.

Cultivate self-acceptance

Difficult feelings often begin with comparison. Why is everyone else coping and I am not? Why do they seem fine, and I feel lost?

It is easy to turn rejection into self-blame — to start believing that not fitting in is somehow your fault. But it is not. Be gentle with yourself.

Seek support

If you can’t talk to friends, talk to a therapist. And if therapy feels out of reach, start with books. Begin with "Between Two Worlds" by Roxana Saberi and "The Body Keeps the Score" by Bessel van der Kolk.

Photo: Getty Images

Practical advice: personal tools

I am not a psychologist, so I won’t give you textbook strategies. But I can share a few real, tangible things — practical tools that genuinely helped me.

Start by recreating your own places

Back home, I had my go-to beauty salon, my favourite dentist, my little everyday spots that gave structure and comfort to life. So I did the same here. Over time, these places started to feel like mine too — and that made a real difference.

Let go of the guilt when “home” starts feeling different

The first few times I went back, I tried to relive everything — the traditions, the people, the places. But something always felt off. I have learned to accept that it is okay if the connection has shifted. Home hasn’t disappeared — it is just changed. And so have I.

What else? I asked my colleague and friend Sasa, who has been living in Serbia for years and has learned how to build his own sense of belonging.

Learn the language — even the small stuff

Not just grammar or phrases, but the culture behind the words. What people eat, what they watch, how they talk, where they go. The more you understand how a place breathes, the more it starts to feel like somewhere you belong.

Recreate the little rituals that made “home” feel like home

Back there, it might have been a morning coffee on the way to work, chats at the market, a favourite walking route. Bringing those small habits into a new setting can create a sense of continuity — something familiar in the unfamiliar.

Fake it till you make it

Sometimes you have to step outside your comfort zone. Let go of certain routines or expectations — even parts of how you saw yourself — just to see who you might become in a new place. It might feel awkward at first, but eventually, it can start to feel real.

Photo: Curated Lifestyle

The numbers say: you are not alone

You know what helps me the most when I am in crisis? The look on my therapist’s face when I try to explain what I am going through — that calm, steady expression that quietly says, "I have heard this before."

It means I am not the only one. And that, in its own way, is a kind of belonging — just to a slightly different kind of group.

So here are three numbers that say it loud and clear:

Over 281 million people live outside their country of birth — that is around 3.6% of the global population.
There are an estimated 4,5 to 5 million Third Culture Kids worldwide — and 70% of them say they struggle to answer the question "Where is home?"
About 28% of young expats (around age 20) show high levels of depression and anxiety linked to identity and belonging struggles.

by Barbara Yakimchuk