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Growing up in a mixed Chinese-Nigerian household, I didn't fully grasp my heritage until my early twenties. That changed when a magazine asked me to write an article titled "A Bicultural Balance: Raised in a Chinese-Nigerian Household — a Chinese-African Master's Juggling Two Cultures." Writing it forced me to finally ask: Who am I, culturally?

People often ask, "Do you identify more as Chinese or Nigerian?" My honest answer: it depends on the context. That's not avoidance — it's the reality of living between two worlds. I don't have to choose; I get to embody both.

I love both cuisines. In health and wellness, Chinese culture takes the lead. In language and humor, Nigerian Pidgin English is genuinely fun and full of life. The rhythm, the wit, the way people stretch a word for effect — it always makes me laugh. Nigeria is wonderfully multi-ethnic, and Pidgin acts as a cultural glue, bringing everyone together regardless of tribe or status. It's a masterclass in how language builds bridges.

My studies in the UK, my years within Beijing's international community, and my travels exposed me to many cultures. Through those experiences, I came to understand that there are cultures we are born into — biological and family heritage — and cultures we grow into through the places we live, the people we meet, and the environments we work in. Today, I am comfortable integrating what I love from Chinese, Nigerian, Western, and Middle Eastern cultures. I call it "Annie's Culture."

That's why I've decided to invest more of myself in building bridges — starting with China and Nigeria. I've noticed something interesting: when I'm in Nigeria, I naturally find myself protecting China's image; when I'm in China, I protect Nigeria's. Despite growing trade between the two countries, there remains a need for greater mutual understanding. Through my work and lived experience, I want to help change that — one conversation, one project, one moment of genuine understanding at a time.

I love travelling. So far I have a few favourites — Singapore, Turkey, Israel. But one trip stood out not for relaxation, but for a profound lesson on peace and perception.

In October 2023, I visited Israel. On Thursday, October 5th, I was in Shaar HaNegev, right on the western border of the Gaza Strip. Everything was peaceful. Quiet. Normal. The skies were blue, the sun burning hot. We even visited a bomb shelter — the kind locals run into during warnings. At the time, it didn't feel like a current necessity.

On Saturday, October 7th, I left for the airport around 5:00 AM. I checked in and waited to board like any other traveller. Then I received a text from a friend in Beijing: "Are you ok? Is everything fine with you?" I was confused. I hadn't heard the news. The area we'd visited just two days prior had erupted into chaos.

Then an announcement came over the loudspeaker. A staff member calmly asked us to step away from the windows and gather toward the center of the terminal. An elderly Israeli man nearby was receiving updates on his phone. He mentioned that in situations like this, airports often close. Concern flickered in his eyes. I gently reassured him: "Don't worry — the airport will not shut down and our flight will take off." The visit to the bomb shelter two days earlier now seemed like a rehearsal.

While we waited, the elderly Israeli man and I fell into a beautiful conversation. I learned more about Israel, the Jewish people, and their culture directly from a local — the kind of insight no article can give you. I was delighted to discover he had even been to China. A genuine moment of human connection, right in the middle of a deeply unsettling situation. The flight finally took off. We said our goodbyes before catching different connecting flights. We may never meet again, but he is part of my story.

Later, I found out that a missile had been fired toward Tel Aviv's International Airport and was intercepted. I was sitting in that terminal when it happened.

I don't tell this story to dramatize. Many have suffered far worse. But for me, it was a moment of crystallization — a sharp reminder of how quickly things can change. What stayed with me wasn't fear, but a clearer sense of what truly matters: to live with more love. To impact people positively — even if just with a smile. Being in Israel on October 7th taught me that our understanding of other cultures is often shaped by incomplete pictures — and that real exposure changes everything.