My heart beats to the rhythm of Ryukukoku Matsuri Daiko even if no one else can hear it. My first idenitity memory appeared at age 4 as I thought to myself, “I am Paisley from Okinawa.” It was there in kindergarten that I completed early booklets about my “home,” describing our house atop Kitanakagusuku. So when the airport driver asked me years later if I was “excited to go home to America,” I replied, “I’ve never been to America, Okinawa is my home.” Arriving in my passport country, I heard my young neighbor say, “Hello Japanese girl, I’m from America!”