How I Found My People

The first time I realized I didn’t belong, I was six years old. My classmates in Beijing were busy trading Ultraman figurines at recess while I sat on the sidelines clutching my favorite book of Tang Dynasty poetry. I wanted to join them, but I also didn't know how to explain why I found "Drunkenness Under the Moon" more interesting than a superhero who shot lasers from his hands. That feeling of not quite fitting in stayed with me for a long time, like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of my shoe—annoying, sticky, and impossible to ignore. Finding “my people”—those who understood and celebrated my quirks instead of tilting their heads like confused puppies—became one of the most important journeys of my life.

For years, I thought finding my tribe was a fantasy cooked up by coming-of-age novels or maybe Taylor Swift lyrics. But spoiler alert: They're real, and when you find them, it’s like tasting soup that’s been simmering for hours—a blend of flavors you didn’t know you were missing. Here’s how I finally found my people and how you can, too.

Step One: Accept the Awkwardness of Time Travel

Here’s the thing no one tells you: to find where you belong, you first have to confront the person you used to be. For me, this meant embracing my past as the bookish, slightly melancholic girl who organized her bookshelf in chronological order based on Chinese dynasties. It also meant letting go of the vision I had of myself as someone who could effortlessly charm her way through new groups (spoiler: I cannot).

When I moved to New York during my university exchange, it was like stepping into the quantum realm. Everything was fast and shiny, and I was painfully out of sync. I tried copying my classmates, flashing toothy grins at parties while holding solo cups like they were magical passports to fitting in. But pretending to be someone I wasn’t felt as wrong as trying to pair Peking duck with Coca-Cola. Charming, yes, but ultimately unsatisfying. It was only after I joined a book club focused on immigrant literature—a group where someone casually quoted Toni Morrison over wine and Trader Joe’s cheese—that I felt the gears click into place.

Finding my people didn’t mean changing my quirks. It meant honoring them and searching for others who did the same. So, take a trip down memory lane. What makes you laugh so hard you can’t breathe? What topics make you feel alive? These are the breadcrumbs that lead you to your tribe.

Step Two: Seek Depth, Not Decoration

Here’s a harsh truth: not everyone is going to get you, and that’s okay. Friendship isn’t about collecting shiny objects to showcase on Instagram. It’s about finding those connections with people who can handle the full spectrum of you—whether that’s your weird karaoke go-to (mine is a molto dramatic rendition of Teresa Teng’s "The Moon Represents My Heart") or the concerns that keep you up at night.

I learned this lesson while navigating social circles in Shanghai—a city so glamorous it sometimes feels like Instagram came to life. At first, I gravitated toward surface-level connections, treating every social interaction like networking. Dinner with someone who vaguely knew an editor? Sure! Coffee with a friend of a friend of a friend? Why not!

But those connections felt flat, like eating instant noodles when you’re craving a feast. Eventually, I started investing in fewer but deeper relationships. I met a group of fellow writers who understood what it meant to agonize over every sentence and who turned rejections into opera-worthy lamentations. With them, I could be myself—neurotic, poetic, and fully human.

Take a cue from your dating life here: swipe left on the superficial. Prioritize relationships that feel rich and reciprocal, where you can share the messiest version of yourself without fear of judgment.

Step Three: Get Comfortable Being the Oddball

To quote the immortal wisdom of Phoebe Buffay from Friends: “If you’re going to be weird, own it.” This was, for me, the hardest but most transformative step. Growing up, I was always the odd one out—quirkier than my peers in Beijing and more traditional than my friends in New York. I straddled cultures and identities like a gymnast clinging to a balance beam, never feeling fully at home in either.

There’s a word in Chinese, “缘分” (yuanfen), which refers to the serendipitous connections we’re destined to have with others. I stopped trying to force those connections and instead leaned into being authentically, unapologetically myself. I let my love of classical literature and cheesy soap operas shine and started hosting dinner parties where I combined both: poetry readings followed by binging episodes of “Meteor Garden.” Some people probably thought I had lost my mind, but the ones who stayed? They became my people.

Embrace your inner oddball. Your quirks are not liabilities—they’re lighthouses, signaling to others like you. Whether you geek out over obscure indie bands or have a weirdly specific passion for artisanal soy sauce, you’ll attract those who resonate with your energy.

Step Four: Cast a Wide Net but Build a Cozy Nest

Finding your people can sometimes feel like dating—you have to go through a lot of maybes to find a few yeses. For me, this meant showing up to random community events, like a tai chi class (where I was comically bad) or a calligraphy workshop (where I was slightly less bad). Some endeavors bore fruit; others didn’t. But each attempt expanded my circle and brought me closer to those who mattered.

Once you start connecting, nurture those relationships. Be intentional. Check in, send thoughtful messages, and, for heaven’s sake, don’t let a friendship fizzle because you were "too busy." Like any relationship, finding your community requires tending—and yes, sometimes that means putting in real effort.

Step Five: Celebrate Your Milestones

When I finally found my people, it didn’t happen in a single, dramatic moment. There wasn’t a flash of light or a Taylor Swift song swelling in the background (although that would’ve been amazing). It happened slowly, in moments of quiet joy: sharing hot pot with my book club, singing Jay Chou ballads with friends until 2 a.m., laughing until my stomach hurt during a pun war so bad it deserved jail time. These moments stacked up until, one day, I realized I wasn’t lonely anymore.

So take stock of your milestones. Celebrate the friends who stay up late comforting you after heartbreak or the ones who show up simply because they care. These connections deserve recognition—and so do you, for having the courage to find them.

The Takeaway: Give Yourself Permission to Belong

The journey to finding your tribe isn’t linear; it’s more of a meandering path, full of false starts, awkward moments, and, occasionally, glorious triumphs. It requires patience, vulnerability, and above all, the willingness to believe you’re worth knowing. And you are.

So whether you’re searching for your people at work, in your hometown, or halfway across the world, remember this: you don’t have to fit into anyone else’s mold. The right people will see you for who you are and love you harder for it—Tang Dynasty poetry obsession and all.

Now, excuse me while I send a cheesy text to my group chat of writer friends. If they don’t laugh, I might have to compose a lament in seven-character verse about my failed attempt at humor… or just order more hot pot.