I was born in the Kingdom of Tonga, a country spread across an area in the South Pacific encompassing more than 170 islands. Yet, I grew up in the U.S., and my last name is Feltch, a Scottish surname from the family that adopted me.

Although proudly Tongan, growing up I never felt sure of my identity. My friends and neighbors knew I wasn’t blood-related to the Feltch family, and I always stood out at family gatherings. Despite being loved by my adopted family, feeling different made me feel confused and left me wondering: Who am I really? How do I really connect with other Tongans and Pacific Islanders like me?

As I got older, I found that helping the Pacific Islander community was a pathway to discovering my identity. I joined the frontlines of health care workers in Utah, where a wide array of Pacific Islanders serve to protect communities that lack access to quality health care. I also joined the board of directors for the National Tongan-American Society, an organization devoted to improving the lives of more than 22,000 American Pacific Islanders through education, advocacy and community relations.

Yet, despite all that I have accomplished, something was missing. I couldn’t speak Tongan. That made me feel incomplete, insecure and detached from the foundation for being truly Tongan.

Then came the opportunity to speak on a recent digital panel under the theme, “Talk Story: Finding’ Ohana in Pasifika and the Diaspora,” in anticipation of the Netflix film, “Finding ‘Ohana.” I have spoken on many panels and in discussion groups with Asian and Pacific Americans from throughout the country, and this one seemed right up my alley, so I quickly agreed.

But then I learned who else would be on the panel. It included many well-respected speakers, including Audrey Alo of Pacific Islander Health Partnership and Dr. J. Lelemia Irvine, a leading Hawaiian scholar of physics, two sage advisers and community leaders with decades of experience supporting Pacific Islander communities.

Though I felt honored to be a part of such a distinguished group, I was also concerned. What can I contribute to this panel discussion? And will I be accepted among this ohana of wise leaders?

As the group met, Dr. Irvine began with a traditional Hawaiian chant, known as a mele oli. My concern grew as he began the conversation discussing family ties, bloodlines and language. He asked each of us to share our genealogy and share how we say ohana in our native language.

When Dr. Irvine got to me, I responded: “I don’t know Tongan. Although I was born there, I grew up away from my birth family and speak only English. I am so sorry.” As soon as I mentioned this, the chatbot lit up with comments.

“Please don’t apologize.”

“Susi, you’re still Tongan.”

“We love you, Susi.”

“I don’t speak my Pacific Islander language either.”

“Not being able to speak Tongan, doesn’t lessen who you are.”

I felt immense gratitude and acceptance. The people in this “Talk Story” session did not care that I wasn’t a native Tongan speaker. They just cared that I was present.

Later that afternoon, I saw “Finding ‘Ohana,” a family-friendly story about a single mom of Hawaiian heritage who returned with her kids to Hawaii to help save their family home. The film helped reaffirm for me what I learned during the panel: that finding ohana is an ongoing journey that does not end. It is a lifelong path of expanding and reconnecting with family, learning your genealogy, and being proud of yourself and the person you’ve become.

Susi Feltch-Malohifo’ou, a community health worker in Salt Lake City, Utah, is CEO/director of Pacific Island Knowledge 2 Action Resources (PIK2AR).