 Thousands of years ago, in the mountainous regions in southwest China lived an ethnic group called the Yi. They have their own language and script. They worship fire and tiger. They have shamans. These are their cultural heritage, their source of pride and joy. They were rarely in contact with the central plains until the 20th century, when economic reforms nationwide pushed them into socialism. Then the Yi people began to migrate to urban areas such as Shenzhen, which is 43 times more populated than Canberra. But due to low level of education, many can only work on assembly lines in factories, receiving minimum wages. This time, their heritage becomes a cause of stereotype. Stereotype of the Yi is backward, superstitious and filthy. People frown at their clothes, their accent, their habit of eating chunks of meat. Other residents in factory dormitories would be scared to see the Yi ritual of using chicken blood for fortune telling. I've been living in Shenzhen for 20 years, but I knew literally nothing about the existence of the Yi migrants there until I began my fieldwork class year. I spent time with them at plazas, restaurants and dormitories. I listened to their folk songs, watched their traditional dances and learned the Yi language from scratch. Similar stories of migration and struggle are happening to indigenous communities worldwide, and my research asks, what does heritage mean to the ethnic migrants in metropolitan areas? Heritage makes them feel like an outsider to modern society, but also helps them bond with other community members in a foreign land. Similar... I'm sorry. In Australia for the first time last month, I suddenly realized I'm in a similar position to my research participants. All of us, migrant workers, international students, anyone living hometown, seek to stay connected to our cultural heritage. Our heritage makes us look different, but also provides us a source of strength and resilience. Reflecting on the ways we all keep our heritage alive will ultimately bring us closer together.