Photo by matthew reyes on Unsplash

To move out or not? That is the question.

Is it? When do you become an adult?

Since the onset of COVID19 lockdown, phone calls have become my ‘new’ way of communication with family and friends. They become a primary tool not only to briefly check up on each other but also to restore the deep sense of connection that we all miss in our own individual ‘lock’.

It was one of those calls that started casually. I was talking to ‘Sara’, one of my first and few precious friends I have here in Amsterdam. After venting out all the thoughts and feelings that emerged in the past week and noticing both of us being uplifted after an hour or so, the phone call was about to end as usual. But, this time, at the end of the call, she tossed a question out of the blue.

“When do you think a person becomes an adult?”

I could tell from her lighthearted voice with a sense of curiosity that it was a genuine question. I sensed another interesting talk was ready to unfold. But, for a few seconds, I remained silent, trying to figure out the context of the question. Hearing me thinking, she noticed and revised the question.

“When did you feel that YOU become an adult?”

Then, slowly, the question became more personal. Sara started sharing her recent thoughts around the idea of moving out, which was at the back of her mind when she asked the question. And, even since I have known her in 2017, She has been contemplating on her living situation, because she is in her late 20s, living with her parents, in the Netherlands.

In the Netherlands, young people declare adulthood and independence by physically and financially being independent from parents. As a part of it, moving out (and often sharing an apartment) starts at the age of 16 to 18. The social system is built around this notion of independence. Hence, as a young independent citizen, you can apply for subsidies or loans from the government to cover the expenses of living and studying. It’s quite straightforward.

What is slightly complicated in Sara’s situation is that she is a Surinamese-dutch. Like other second-generation friends I have, she is exposed to two different cultural backgrounds from an early age — Dutch and Surinamese. Each of the two cultural backgrounds upholds its own set of norms and values. Sometimes, those two do match and reinforce each other. For instance, both Culture A and Culture B value family and friendship. Yet, they sometimes clash with each other because of the difference in how they perceive and act upon those values. She has been living in this intercultural space where both cultural norms govern her personal and moral decisions. She’s been trying to figure out what is the ‘right’ decision or trying to avoid the ‘wrong’ decision in the case of conflict.

The issue of moving out is located in this gray area. As a Dutch, Sara feels the need and desire to move out. It also functions as a sign of independence and adulthood because that is how the idea of independence has been operationalized in dutch culture. However, at her house, where Surinamese culture is deeply grounded and practiced, it is not the case. Her parents have never encouraged or pressured her to move out. Rather, they have been curious why she would even consider moving out on her own before her marriage.

Quite opposite to the situation in the Netherlands, moving out is not a must checkbox to tick for Korean kids. Yes, even if they are in their 30s, nobody will judge them for living with their parents. Instead, in South Korea, adulthood is marked differently: to find a job, get married, and form your own family. Hence, unless you find a job or study in a different city or get married, you stay with your family.

Nowadays, some young Korean do move out and live alone to reduce the commute time or get the experience of living alone. However, due to the outrageous rent and living condition of those little ‘rooms’, it is still not a common practice for young people to move out and live alone. As a matter of fact, all my friends, who are in their 30s in South Korea, are living with their parents free from social judgment. Simply it doesn’t make sense for them to move out.

However, I could relate to Sara’s situation because I recognize the struggle of being in the gray zone between two cultural norms. Unlike other Korean parents, my parents highly appreciate the notion of ‘individual’ and ‘independence’. They have encouraged (if not, pushed) me to have an idea of moving out, regardless of my marital status.

I remember when I graduated from my undergrad in 2014, my dad was casually but genuinely asking “So, when are you going to move out?” At that time, his question came to me as a shock. I was even feeling furious — ‘Really? I just graduated and started working for a startup! How could they already think of me moving out?! I’m only 23! None of my friends are even close to the idea!’

That year, partially feeling shame (because I didn’t have the ability to move out on my own) and grudge to my parents (who knew that I did not want to find a corporate job only to afford me a place to live in Seoul), I suggested my parents the following: “Given current real estate market situation, I cannot move out right away. By the age of 30, I will make sure I have a ‘proper job’ to be able to afford my own living but until then, please do not pressure me to move out.” And, in 2017, I started living on my own, in the Netherlands.

Sara’s question gave me a trip down memory lane. Looking back, I was so concerned about the idea of moving out and saving money as if I had to prove that I am an independent person, capable of taking care of me, and not a burden to my parents. But to whom was I presenting the proof? for what? It triggered me to reflect on my struggle for independence in the past. Then, a set of questions arose within me.

1. What are the ways a child manifests her or his independence other than taking charge of financial responsibility and physical separation from parents?
2. If a child is not able or willing to meet certain socially accepted requirements for independence, does it imply that she or he is not an independent entity? Then, is individual independence a conditional term determined by certain requirements?
3. Above all, is independence a universal value? If so, why?

Here’s my takeaway. For many of the youth brought up in the western culture, to manifest independence through moving out is a serious issue. And somehow, it was for me. However, I realized it was not the only way to present me as an independent adult. In fact, I question why it mattered so much whether or not I acquired the status of adulthood, which is a relative concept determined differently by each cultural norm. Furthermore, me being ‘independent from my parents’ doesn’t mean I do not consult my parents and ask for help. In the end, aren’t we all at the end interdependent on each other?

I just wish I had not felt confined by the goal to pursue independence and adulthood in my early twenties. Because now I know, no matter how old I am, what I do, and how I do, I am a person to be respected with dignity.

Then, to move out or not, that might not be the question.