“I laughed at something today and then realized nobody around me would get why it was funny. I can't explain my humor, my food, my way of showing love, my grief rituals—nothing translates. I'm tired of being an anthropology lesson for my own life.”
It's the loneliness of explaining yourself constantly and still being misunderstood. Of eating alone because nobody wants the food that tastes like home. Of swallowing your real reactions because they'd need a 20-minute cultural context that you're too exhausted to give. ILTY can't understand your culture the way someone from home would, but it's a space where you don't have to explain yourself to earn empathy.
Cultural loneliness is different from regular loneliness. You can have friends, a partner, a social life—and still feel profoundly alone because nobody around you shares the invisible framework that shapes how you see the world. The holidays that matter to you aren't on anyone else's calendar. The food that comforts you can't be found within 50 miles. The humor that relaxes you requires too much explanation to be funny.
And there's a specific exhaustion that comes from being the only representative of your culture in every room. People's curiosity feels like interrogation. Their compliments feel like exoticization. Their ignorance—even when well-meaning—is another reminder of how far you are from people who just get it. You're not being oversensitive. The cognitive and emotional labor of constant cultural translation is real and measurable.
The grief of it is complicated too. You might have chosen to leave, or your parents did, or circumstances forced it. But regardless of the reason, there's a loss that doesn't get recognized: the loss of being culturally held. Of walking down the street and seeing yourself reflected. Of not having to explain the most basic things about who you are.
•Culture is the invisible operating system of your identity—when nobody around you shares that OS, every interaction requires conscious translation that's mentally draining
•Diaspora communities may not exist where you live, or may not match your generation, politics, or version of the culture, leaving you between worlds
•Assimilation pressure—the expectation to adapt to your new environment—creates a constant tension between fitting in and preserving who you are
•Well-meaning people who reduce your culture to food and festivals don't realize they're flattening your entire identity into a tourist brochure
ILTY won't ask you to define your cultural practices or explain why your mom's expectations are different. You can talk about your experience without providing a lecture first.
Too foreign here, too westernized there. The identity tension of living between cultures is exhausting, and ILTY can help you sit with it without pushing you to 'choose.'
Missing home, missing your language being spoken around you, missing being understood—you don't have to justify that grief to ILTY. You can just feel it.
We want to be honest about our limitations:
Not fully, no. Cultural connection requires shared lived experience, and ILTY doesn't have that. What it can do is provide a non-judgmental space to process the emotions that cultural isolation creates—the grief, the exhaustion, the identity confusion. It's a tool for emotional processing, not a substitute for cultural community.
That guilt is one of the most common experiences in immigrant and diaspora communities. Your parents' sacrifice doesn't invalidate your pain. You can hold gratitude for what they gave you and grief for what was lost in the process. Those aren't contradictions. If the guilt is overwhelming, a culturally competent therapist can help enormously.
Start with diaspora communities in your area—cultural centers, religious organizations, language meetups, or online groups for people from your background in your city. Social media groups for diaspora communities can also be powerful. ILTY can help you process the courage it takes to seek those spaces out, but the connection itself has to come from real people.
ILTY is free during beta. It's not therapy. It's not a cure. It's a place to talk through what you're going through—honestly, without judgment, whenever you need it.