So, where are you from?
‘So, where are you from?’A multicultural problem
It’s a perfectly innocent question, used the world over to start a conversation. And when you are finding your feet in a new country it’s probably the most common question you’ll ask, and be asked. But for me that simple, innocent question is almost impossible to answer without launching into detailed family history and geographical timelines.
‘So, where are you from?’ Right, I’m multicultural so I have five options, and it usually depends on the person asking the question which one I choose, but mostly I just blurt them all out.
“I’m from England’. True but not entirely accurate.
‘I’m South African’. Yes. But no.
‘I’m half English, half South African’. Kind of, but not quite.
‘I’m Dutch’. That’s what my passport says anyway.
‘I’m half South African, half Dutch’. True but not entirely accurate. This could go on all day.
By this time their eyes have glazed over and they’re silently thinking, ‘jeez, it’s a simple question, I didn’t ask for your whole life story’.
If I’m feeling contrary I say, ‘I’m not entirely sure where I’m from’, then watch their expression change from polite interest to ‘uh-oh, I’m talking to a weirdo’.
Cultural schizophrenia: What if you don’t know what you are?
You see, I, along with millions of others who are multicultural, suffer from cultural schizophrenia. OK, it may not be an actual thing, but it does a pretty good job of describing how I feel when confronted with trying to answer ‘So, where are you from?’
Now, I know there are gazillions of us who have dual nationalities, are bi-racial, multicultural and all the rest, but here is my question: does being born into a nationality make you that nationality? And if you are born one nationality, but grow up in a second, third or fourth nationality, what are you?
My Dad is Dutch. My passport is Dutch. I have never lived in Holland, and I don’t speak Dutch. So am I Dutch? My genes are Dutch, but am I Dutch?
I was born in England. My passport is British. My parents are not British. So am I British? My socialization is British, but am I British?
My Mum is South African. My passport is South African. I have lived in South Africa for many years (on and off). Right, so that’s it, I must be South African. But why don’t I feel South African? To South Africans I sound English, to Brits I sound South African. And to the Dutch I sound like an impostor.
Americans seem to have figured it out. ‘Yeah, I’m fourth generation Irish, one eighth Polish, half Spanish, and my great grand father was Cherokee’.
Awesome. But what are you?
I’ve thought about this a lot since the two Pitter-Patters were born. Technically they are tri-national. Three passports. Three nationalities. Truly multicultural. I wonder what those nationalities will mean to them as they grow up. It makes me sad that they are Dutch, but may never live in Holland, never experience the confidence, contentment and forthrightness that I love about the Dutch. It makes me sad that they are British, but may never know what it’s like to grow up in the countryside where every woodland, oak tree, buttercup, daffodil, bubbling stream, bumble bee, badger and hedgehog are alive with magic. They are South African, and that makes me happy. Our three years living in South Africa has given them a wonderful foundation, a sense of belonging. They speak Afrikaans, they love to braai (barbeque), Papa B has ensured that they are already die-hard rugby fans. They are South African. Or are they?
I hope that they will take the best parts of being Dutch, British and South African and mush them into something awesome. A confident badger loving rugby fan, or a forthright oak tree climber who loves to braai (barbeque). Sounds pretty awesome to me.
How do you deal with raising a multi-cultural family?
I can REALLY sympathise with this one, and my history is much less convoluted than yours. I usually answer “where are you from?” with “How do you mean?” or “In what context?” which invariably gets me a blank stare which I’m sure is accompanied by and internal thought of “what the hell is wrong with this nutter?”
Yep, nutters indeed Grant! But in an interesting ‘oh how nice’ way, not a creepy ‘why is he wearing his underpants over his trousers’ way. There’s the upside š
I think it’s wonderful that you and the kids have a number of passports. It isn’t always as easy to access some parts of the world with only a South African passport, but you also don’t need visas for our neighbouring countries with SA passport so you have such flexibility. I, for example, won’t have that unless I marry someone European or American, say. That in itself takes a measure of hoop-jumping and ‘legitimising’ your union lest it be a ploy to escape Darkest Africa and move ‘to the white light of snowy Europe’. I watched my sister and her husband go through an excruciating, year-and-a-bit process to get her to Norway. The more you get out there and see, the more you can soak up. I think you’re blessed to not have as much restriction in your movements. Love that.
“Where are you from?” Was the most difficult question for me growing up since we moved around a lot. And now my children face the same question.
After years of struggling with this question the answer that works for me is…My birth country is Tanzania. I currently live in — (answer changes ever few years! ;-))
I have lived in different countries around the world that have shaped who I am.
However, my kids just stick with, we are Canadian….forgetting the many other countries they have called home! š
Thanks for your comment Sabiha! Do you feel, at your core, that you are Tanzanian? Or have all of the countries you have lived in created a new you, so to speak? It’s great that your kids identify with one place…I suspect that my boys won’t have that sense of identity or feeling of being rooted in one country when they are older. xx