Thursday, August 18, 2011

Identity Crisis

I’ve mentioned before that I had a rather varied childhood. Parents from two different countries and cultures, born in Italy, moved to US when I was seven, went to a French school (in the US, started school in the British system in Italy – starting school in Texas with a heavily British accent was loads of fun, as you can imagine, I didn’t get picked on at all), moved back to Italy for University, but home was always Texas… until I got married.


Let me start off by saying that I count myself to be an extremely lucky, privileged person because I got to experience many different cultures firsthand. Our family friends in the US, the people I grew up with, my virtual aunts and uncles and cousins, are from all over the world. I remember when I watched “My big fat Greek wedding” I spent the entire movie going OMG, that’s so familiar, even though I’m nowhere near Greek and had never been to Greece until a few years ago, but many of my Mom’s girlfriends are Greek so, for example, we would often celebrate Easter at our house and (usually) a week later Greek Easter at one of her friend’s house. I went to a French International school for seven years, I had friends from Argentina, Mexico, Venezuela, Canada, Pakistan, Iran, France, the US, Algeria… I could go on and on, but you get my point. I lived and breathed so many cultures, each family had it’s own different quirks and customs that being slightly different was totally normal.

But now… well now I live in rural Italy, where being different is just different. And the thing is that the longer that I’m away from “home” and, absurdly, “home” to me is still Houston though I haven’t lived there full time in fifteen years the harder it is for me to define my own identity. I look and sound Italian, in fact, I am Italian, although I’m actually not, not really. I don’t have any of the shared childhood experiences that Italians have. I don’t recognize half the stuff they talk about, they don’t know half the stuff I talk about, there’s no common ground. My childhood has much more in common with American kids… but I’m not American (incidentally, I will never forgive my father for refusing to apply for citizenship, which we could have done, about a million times!).
I have a friend here who is me, in reverse, she’s American but grew up in Italy, her dad’s American her mom is foreign. She’s been here since she was seven. She is way more Italian than me, and I’m way more American than her, yet our passports say otherwise.
It got me thinking about how important, how much of an impact the way in which we spend our formative years is. Overall, I’ve lived more years of my life in Italy and yet my Italian friends often wonder how I could possibly be so foreign. This led me to believe that the greater part of our character, our opinions, our belief system is created when we’re young. As adults we can tweak, we can use our more mature rationale to improve ourselves, possibly to let go of some insecurities or to develop our strengths, but the core of who we are is a result of our childhood and young adulthood.

The other day I was talking to my new therapist, and I was telling him that I got some very negative reactions when the Husband got sick because I needed to talk about the possibility that he could die. I felt it was important, imperative even, for me to know what he would want should he die. When my Dad died my Mom knew exactly what he would have wanted and not having to decide anything, just having to follow directions was a huge burden off her shoulders. The husband knows me and agreed that it was necessary and had no problem discussing it with me. His family was appalled. My therapist commented that of course his family was appalled, I’d grown up in a culture where death is not danced around too much. It’s a fact of life. Of course, different people react to it in different ways, but there’s much less stigma about death in the US than there is in Italy. In Italy death is something one doesn’t mention, it’s a huge taboo, he said it probably has to do with the extent to which the Catholic Church permeates everyday life. I tend to agree. (He also informed me that in Italy there’s no such thing as a DNR order, this freaked me the hell out.)

Most of the time I walk around feeling foreign in my own country, the other half of the time I walk around feeling foreign in the US cause I haven’t lived there in so long. It’s exhausting. I remember when the whole Janet Jackson Super Bowl debacle happened and the ensuing uproar in America, I was like, what the hell, y’all, it’s just a boob! – A very Italian reaction. So every once in a while I wonder, who or what am I?
When people ask me where I’m from it makes me want to jump off a bridge screeching because the answer’s so drawn out and complicated. And believe me, I’ve tried simple. For example, I get to talking with a new mom at the park and she inevitably asks where I’m from cause my accent in Italian is slightly different from here as I lived for many years in Milan. So I’m like, oh, I’m from Milan. Short, simple, sweet. But then the Boy will come up and ask me something or I yell at him to not push his sister off the slide, and I do it in English, cause I talk to my kids in English, reflexively. So the mom, raised eyebrow, says, wow your English is really good, so I have to answer oh, I grew up in the US and I swear to you, somehow, the conversation spirals from there into something way more convoluted than you’d want with a total stranger at the park. I can’t seem to avoid it.

I don’t know, maybe this whole mental mayhem I’m going through right now is just a consequence of having been gone from the US for far too long (three years (shudder) up until the husband got sick I had always gone at least twice a year). I used to always find a balance between my Italian, my American and my (albeit small) Brazilian side and now I just need to recharge my American batteries for a while. In fact, lately I find myself teary-eyed every time I hear that Michael Buble song “I want to go home”-

To this end I’ve finally decided I’m going to Houston in November! For a month! Maybe even six weeks! I’ll be there for Thanksgiving! Oh my god a real, honest to goodness American Thanksgiving, with my family, in America! In Houston! Where you can wear shorts at the end of November and there’s no snow to speak of!

And wow, I actually had to write the longest post ever written just to slip that in!

11 comments:

  1. You sound like you need to touch where "your from."  Pre: 'Happy Holidays!'

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  2. I so totally know how you feel! In the States I wasn't totally at home because I'd been brought up with European perspectives and Asian values, in Thailand I stick out like a sore thumb because I don't look Thai. (I could go on...but maybe I should write my own long blog post about that!) Even what you were saying about nodding your way through My Big Fat Greek Wedding, I was nodding my way through reading you say that.

    I guess those of us with more varied backgrounds (and it's probably that there will only be more and more of us) just have to be okay with ambiguity, and can only get that sense of "belonging" in pieces and facets. Unless someone has discovered a secret? Do let me in!

    In the meantime, it sounds like you need to get some good time at home. Have a wonderful trip and a fantastic Thanksgiving! I'll be enjoying it vicariously through you. :)

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  3. These are just the things I worry about for my kiddo -- where and how will she fit in when she is an adult. American. Born in Italy (in American hospital). Raised in Italy. 2 American parents.  Italian friends. American friends who move away. Italian school. Italian friends who stick around. American passport. American extended family. Home in Italy. She lives in 2 worlds, in a way. 2 languages at the same time :) For now, we don't have a plan to change that.

    Have you read up on Third Culture Kids? It seems that you are not alone & there are many people with similar experiences roaming the planet. I wonder if you lived in a bigger city, even in Italy, if this would continue to resonate so strongly. I don't see so much diversity in rural Italy. 

    Enjoy Texas! Temps should be tolerable by then.
    D

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  4. I'll look into the Third Culture Kids, thanks. There are many, many people like me around, I know. When I was in Milan it was a little better and had we stayed there it would've definitely been easier to give our kids a more varied life experience (there are all manner of international schools to start with). I have a lot of foreign friends here too, but it makes me a little sad that my kids won't get to experience school the way I did - the dances, the sports events, halloween.... 

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  5. "Belonging in pieces and facets" so, so true, and well put! And you should totally write a post about it, can't wait to read it!

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  6. Very, very excited to go! Of course time is now moving at a snail's pace...

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  7. It's a tough pill to swallow, that missing out on high school culture part, isn't it? There's not much that can be said to change that sad feeling. My girl is only seven, so I don't think too much about it, yet. Her asilo experience and first year in Italian primary school experience were full of many great things . . . not the same things, but still great things. It works out.
    D
    PS. I think that the prom is highly overrated, just so you know where I am coming from ;)

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  8. I'm a little like you although I have double citizenship (American/Mexican) and I married a Romanian and live in France.  I was always too "american" for my Mexican friends/family and too "mexican" for some places in the US (even though I was born and raised in the US).  I worry that my son will have the same crisis later.  He is a double citizen (Romanian/American) yet his culture and language are French.  Who knows.  Enjoy your time in Texas!!  I'm jealous you get to celebrate Thanksgiving there!

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  9. I'm glad you get to come home soon! It must be hard to feel like you don't quite fit where you currently live. Hopefully a trip home will help you feel better:)

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  10. So I went to write a blog post about something totally different, but I think this conversation was really on my brain. It's not a direct post about identity crisis, but it's definitely related to this discussion. :) (It's also written at midnight, so I apologize if it tends to meander too much and make little sense!) You can find it here: http://jadekeller.com/2011/08/capturing-time/

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  11. Ha this resonated with my Fancy brain. We've got American/German speaking children, living in the land of Marmite. And I can't watch any of the TV here or read the UK magazines because I don't really understand the pop culture. So I have People sent from the US. I imagine your background conversation at the playground is a little like when people ask me how old my kids are. And I have to explain an age gap of less than 9 months. Then again, British people are so reserved most of them just stare at me. 

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