Nadia Fauzi

London is loud, but motherhood here feels strangely quiet. In the mornings, I walk my youngest child to school under grey skies, while my eldest lives a completely different life at university; independent, distant, growing in ways I can’t fully see anymore. After 11 years of living in London, raising one child and now two, I’ve come to understand what it means to raise Malaysian children here.

Growing up between two worlds

My children speak English with London accents, but they eat nasi lemak at home. They know British manners, but they also know to greet elders the Malay(sian) way. At school, they learn Shakespeare. At home, they hear stories of our childhoods in Kuala Lumpur—school days, after-school activities, hanging out at mamak stalls, and family gatherings. I often feel like I am translating life for them: from Malaysia to London, from tradition to modernity, from our childhoods to theirs. Growing up in London as Malaysian children, they are shaping their identities as third culture kids, blending influences from two worlds in ways I sometimes struggle to fully understand.

Parenting across cultures

Raising children in the UK is different from Malaysia. In Malaysia, parenting feels communal. Family, friends, and neighbours are often close by. In London, parenting feels individual. Everything is structured, scheduled, and independent. I had to unlearn some things. I had to soften my Asian strictness, but also protect the values we grew up with. There are days I feel proud, and there are days I feel lost.

The bittersweet of belonging

People talk about opportunities abroad, but they rarely talk about the emotional cost. When your child grows up in a country that is not fully yours, you realise something bittersweet: they belong here more than you do. My children think of London as home. I still dream of Kuala Lumpur. Sometimes I feel guilty for choosing this life for them. Sometimes I feel grateful. Most of the time, I feel both.

What home means

Home isn’t always a place. Sometimes it’s the smell of sambal frying in a London kitchen. Sometimes it’s speaking Malay at the dinner table. Sometimes it’s celebrating Raya in a cold country.

I’ve learned that raising Malaysian children in London isn’t about choosing one culture over another. It’s about weaving two worlds into one life. And maybe that is what motherhood really is: learning to let your children belong to places you may never fully belong to.