Growing up in New York, the terms community and home had no differing meaning. Everyone belonged, without regard to the thickness of their accent or their complexion.
Despite how widespread this ideology was, I often felt it applied directly to me. I am a half Luxembourgish, half Indian girl with not a trace of American in her blood.
Yet, as embarrassing as it sounds due to the US's current negative reputation, through my birthright and 15 years of residence the country has captured my heart.
I spent half of my childhood in Luxembourg and the other half realising nobody, and I mean nobody, back home in the US had any idea where or even what Luxembourg was.
My conversations regarding what I saw as my second home lived up to the American reputation of having zero knowledge on geography. I was met time and time again with blank stares or vague references to Germany.
When I compared the two: my life in the US versus in Luxembourg, it is always a strange concept to put into scale.
The US, as we love to rub in the faces of every other country, is often perceived by the public as the most powerful and influential nation of its time. You switch the lens to Luxembourg and suddenly the scale changes.
One year for my birthday my father bought me a globe. He ended up getting more amusement out of the gift then the ten year old girl who just wanted a barbie.
I enjoyed placing little red pins in every county I was fortunate enough to have travelled to. Luxembourg, however, never got its mark of honour.
The country summed up to less then 1 millimeter of the globe and was too minute to even hold a pin. Within that half millimeter, invisible to anyone who didn't press their nose against it, close one eye, and squint, lay every memory I had ever made.
At that point in my life, I viewed this as a simple fact of geography. In hindsight, I realise it taught me something larger: visibility and importance are not the same.
Where most saw a small scrap of land separating the countries that shape global affairs, I recognised a differing reality. I envisioned every time I pranced out of the tiny Luxair flight into the familiarity of a country that always seemed to fit into my life like a central puzzle piece.
A sort of peacefulness I miss as I buzz through the streets of Manhattan. I miss the Luxembourgish pause at every tick of a New York minute, the memory of the calm breeze through the city smog and recalling the sound of a cow mooing as yellow cab horns blare in my ears.
Everyone at home in New York knew I was a Luxembourger. If they didn't, I would make sure they would. It's a part of who I was, am, and intent on continuing to be.
Nonetheless, visiting Luxembourg always reminds me there are two sides to every coin.
"Aren't you our little American girl!" was a suitable replay from my Luxembourgish relatives and friends to my every aspect, from my walk to my talk, and of course my facial expressions. In all fairness, at times, it's quite the compliment. It often isn't, however, and it never fails to act as a reminder.
A reminder that every outsider perceptive and opinion will stand with complete disregard to your personal reality, making it clear that your labels will be your labels no matter how much you pull them apart and over explain every detail.
No backstory will stick, you're either the girl from that place next to Germany or the cousin from America.
When the topic of belonging resurfaces, I might not have anyone to name who is 'just like me' but what I can list is every home away from home, all the hours spent laughing (the worlds universal language) and every cherished 'remember when'.
Maya Kapur, 15, was an intern at RTL Today in July 2026 and is a student at the United Nations International School in New York City.
