今天打完工後，我原本應該繼續找工作。但我決定先坐下來，寫下這些話。因為有時候，發聲，比繼續追逐那些也許永遠看不見你價值的機會，更重要。
今（2025）年 5 月，英國政府公布了新的移民政策（延伸閱讀：英國移民政策 2025 大收緊：技術工簽、畢業生工作簽證變嚴，留學生如何因應）。作為一名在英國生活快兩年的台灣人，我讀書、工作、繳稅，依法辦事，一切合規。我想站在自己的立場，向生活在國外所遇到的人們說些話。
我來自哪裡？
「你知道台灣嗎？」
這幾乎是每次被問及「Where are you from?」時，我的標準開場。
如果對方露出困惑，我會補充一句：「是一個在中國旁邊的島國，靠近日本和南韓。」
即便如此，還是有很多人不太清楚。也有不少人直接以為我是中國人。為什麼？因為我們說的是普通話，因為我們有一些共同的文化根源，因為我的外表。因為，沒有人教你們，我們是不同的。
但請想一想：美國人和英國人講一樣的語言，也有類似的歷史、宗教，甚至祖先。你會說他們是一樣的嗎？多半不會。
那為什麼我們總被混為一談？
被不當一回事，是什麼感覺？
你知道，當你的國家在別人眼中存在感很低，是什麼樣的感覺嗎？台灣幾乎不在旅遊清單上，也很少在主流媒體的對話中出現。有些人聽過「台北」，有些人知道「台灣」，但大多停留在模糊的印象裡。
我們的存在，從未真正進入你們的社群、旅程或國際視野。
我熱愛旅行，也喜歡用地圖記錄自己走過的地方。但我的國家，經常不在那張地圖上。不是因為它不存在，而是因為，它「敏感」。
這種「被世界忽略」的經驗，是你們很少會經歷的。
「你好」──是問候，還是嘲諷？
如果你是亞裔，那麼在英國多半有人對你說過「nǐ hǎo」。有時是善意的，但更多時候，它更像是一個標籤、一個笑話，甚至是一種測試。我們感覺得出來，那個「你好」不是為了交流，而是為了確認你是「他者」。
某天早上，我在咖啡廳打工，一位男子走進來，對我說了聲「nǐ hǎo」。我微笑以對，以為他是客人。接著，他突然講了一些不太友善的話──然後掉頭就走。
我不知所措地愣在原地。
我的同事和保全跑來問我還好嗎？但即使我說「不好」，真的能改變什麼嗎？
我好想跟那個男子說，你知道「你好」真正適合在什麼情境下使用嗎？如果不知道，也許沉默反而更有禮貌。
事實上，朋友見面時，我們會說：「欸，好久不見」或「哈囉！」就像你們說「hi」。我們連在日常生活中都很少用「你好」打招呼。那太正式，也太疏離。
所以，當每一張亞洲臉孔都被一視同仁地貼上「nǐ hǎo」的標籤，那不是問候，而是在提醒我們：你不屬於這裡。
人們常說：「我們不看膚色的。」但在這裡，我每天都看見膚色的存在──即使我說得一口流利的英文，但還是外人。因為我不是在這裡出生的，因為我是以國際學生途徑來的，更是因為，有許多人覺得我是來這裡「拿走」機會、資源、身分的。
你可能會說：「那你可以選擇不要來。」
也許你說得對。但如果我不來，如果我不說英文──誰來說出這些你們看不見的事？
我們學語言，不是為了取悅誰
英文是全球通用語言，沒錯。但這並不意味說英文的國家就等於世界中心。我們很多人會說兩種、三種，甚至四種語言。不是為了炫耀，而是為了生存、為了連結。所以，請不要嘲笑我們的口音，也別把我們的聲音簡化成刻板印象。
我們有時候也會把你們的名字唸錯、拼錯。並不是不尊重，而是即使我們再怎麼努力，有些人還是覺得「這應該很簡單吧」，然後露出不耐煩的表情。我們得到的，不是理解，而是嘲笑。
或許你覺得我們唸錯英文名字很好笑，但你知道我們的名字被拼錯、唸錯多少次──卻一句話都沒說嗎？我們的名字，總被嫌太長、太奇怪、太難。於是，為了讓你方便，我們縮小自己，簡化自己的名字。可當我們努力靠近你時，你卻在笑我們。
我們說你的語言，是因為我們需要，不是因為我們「低你一等」。
關於新的移民政策
我住的城市治安比台北差，我得時時刻刻盯著手機和包包。即便如此，我選擇留下──為了成長，為了體驗，也為了適應。
但最近英國政府宣布：大多數工作簽證持有者，取得永居的年限將從 5 年延長到 10 年，年薪門檻提高到 38,700 英鎊。英國自己本地人又有多少達到這個薪資標準？這不是看能力，而是設門檻。安靜，卻明確地，把我們擋在外面。
我繳市政稅、所得稅，也付 NHS 健保費。但看個病，困難重重。
我朋友曾被燙傷，卻被告知要等兩週才能看診。在台灣，她當天就能看醫生、接受治療。我明白 NHS 的醫護人員都很辛苦，因此這不是針對特定人，而是在說：這個系統對誰都不容易──尤其是我們這些「外來者」。
所以，請別隨意對我說「你好」，除非你真的知道它的意思，除非你真的想認識我。
因為，這不只是一個詞，這關乎你如何看待我。你是想與我交流，還是只是想提醒我，我不是這裡的一份子？
讓我真正感到難過的，不是那句「你好」本身，而是──那是你唯一願意學、關於我們的一切。
以下為英文版文章（最初發表於 2025 年 5 月 14 日），經作者授權後刊登：
Don’t say “nǐ hǎo” today.
When “nǐ hǎo” Isn’t a Greeting, but a Reminder That You Don’t Belong
I was supposed to look for a job today, after finishing my part-time shift. But instead, I’m sitting here writing this. Because sometimes, speaking up feels more urgent than chasing jobs that may never see your worth.
On this Monday, the UK government announced new immigration rules. As a Taiwanese citizen who has lived in this country for nearly two years — studying, working, paying taxes, playing by the rules — I want to speak from where I stand.
Where I’m From
“Do you know Taiwan?”
That’s how I often start when people ask where I’m from.
If they look confused, I continue: “It’s a small island beside China, close to Japan and South Korea.”
Even then, many still don’t know. And many assume I’m Chinese.
Why? Because we speak Mandarin. Because we share some cultural roots. Because of how I look, because of how little people are taught to see us as distinct.
But let me ask you: Americans and British people share the same language. Many share similar history, religion, even ancestors.
Would you call them the same? Probably not. So why are we always lumped together?
What It Feels Like to Be Invisible
Do you know how it feels when people don’t care about your country?
Taiwan is rarely on your travel lists, or international maps, or conversations.
Sometimes people know “Taipei.” Sometimes they’ve heard of “Taiwan.” But it’s rarely part of their media, their plans, or their worldview.
I love traveling. I want to collect countries I’ve visited through the travel map. But my own country? Often not even on the list. Not because we don’t exist — but because of our sensitive international status.
nǐ hǎo — A Smile or a Joke?
If you’re Asian in the UK, chances are someone’s greeted you with “nǐ hǎo.”
Sometimes it feels kind. But more often, it feels like a label. Or a joke. Or a test. We can feel the difference.
One early morning at the café I work at, a man walked in, looked me in the eye, and said “nǐ hǎo.” I smiled and greeted him back, thinking he was a customer. Then he said something cruel to me — and ran out.
I stood there frozen.
My colleague and the security asked if I was okay. Even if I said no, would anything really change?
And do you actually know how to use “nǐ hǎo” correctly? If not — then don’t say it to me.
To be honest, we don’t even greet each other – or our friends – with “nǐ hǎo.” It can actually come off as overly formal or distant.
So when you throw out “nǐ hǎo” at every Asian face you see, it doesn’t feel like connection.
It feels like a punchline. Like you’re reminding us: You’re not one of us.
Fluent English Doesn’t Protect Me
People like to say, “We don’t see colour here.”
But I do. Every single day.
Even though I speak fluent English, I’m still treated as an outsider.
Because I wasn’t born here. Because I came as an international student. Because people assume I’m only here to take something — opportunity, security, resources.
You might say, “Then why come here? No one asked you to.” Maybe you’re right.
But if I didn’t come, if I didn’t speak English — who would say this out loud?
We speak more languages to be heard — not to please you
English is the global language. But that doesn’t mean native English speakers are the centre of the world.
Many of us speak two, three, even four languages — not to impress, but to connect. So don’t mock our accents. Don’t reduce our voices to stereotypes.
And sometimes, yes — we get your names wrong or misspell your names. Not out of disrespect, but because even when we try to get it right, some people assume it should be “obvious,” or they spell it out impatiently. Instead of understanding, we’re met with laughter.
You think it’s funny when we get it wrong. But do you know how many times we’ve seen our own names misspelled — and said nothing?
We’ve been told, time and again, that our names are too long, too strange, too hard. So we shrink ourselves for your comfort. But when we try to meet you halfway, you laugh.
Many of us speak multiple languages — mistakes happen. What matters is effort and respect.
We speak your language because we have to. But we never asked to be treated as second-class for it.
The Immigration Rules Hurt
I live in a city less safe than Taipei. I have to watch my phone, my bag, and my surroundings. And yet, I’m still here — trying to experience something new, grow, adapt.
But the new immigration rules? The UK government has announced changes to immigration rules, including increasing the qualifying period for settlement from 5 to 10 years for most work visa holders, and raising the salary threshold for skilled worker visas to £38,700.
How many people in the UK even earn that much? This isn’t about merit. It’s about exclusion. Quietly, but clearly.
I pay council tax. Income tax. NHS fees. I’ve barely used the NHS because it’s hard to access. My friend suffered serious burns and was told to wait two weeks for a doctor. In Taiwan, she would’ve been treated the same day.
I know NHS workers work hard. This is not about individuals — it’s about a broken system that hurts everyone, but especially those of us outside the native circle.
So Don’t Say “nǐ hǎo” to Me
Not unless you know what it means. Not unless you mean it from the heart.
Because this isn’t just about a word. It’s about being seen — or not seen. It’s about whether you greet me as a person, or as a punchline.
I’m not upset because you said “nǐ hǎo.” I’m disappointed because it’s the only word you were willing to learn about me.
執行編輯：洪翊芳
核稿編輯：孫雅為
