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| Am I rootless, or am I free? ‘Third culture kids’ like me make it up as we go along | Am I rootless, or am I free? ‘Third culture kids’ like me make it up as we go along |
| (6 months later) | |
| “No, but where are you really from?” It is the question that automatically makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Like many “third culture kids” (TCKs), I panic, wondering whether the question refers to my nationality, where I was born, where I am living now, or where my parents live. | “No, but where are you really from?” It is the question that automatically makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Like many “third culture kids” (TCKs), I panic, wondering whether the question refers to my nationality, where I was born, where I am living now, or where my parents live. |
| The term, coined by the American sociologist Ruth Hill Useem, refers to a child who has spent a significant part of their formative years outside their parents’ culture. People who fit that bill have a tendency to mix and merge their birth culture with their adopted culture, creating one of their own: a third culture. | The term, coined by the American sociologist Ruth Hill Useem, refers to a child who has spent a significant part of their formative years outside their parents’ culture. People who fit that bill have a tendency to mix and merge their birth culture with their adopted culture, creating one of their own: a third culture. |
| Depending on the person and situation, I’ll have different answers to that dreaded question. I’ll tell white lies and change my story as I go, like many other TCKs. Sometimes I’ll go for the quick answer: Finland and Senegal. Other times I’ll tell the whole story: that I was born in Helsinki, moved to Luxembourg, then to Brussels and finally to London. Or I might say that my mum is from Finland and dad from Senegal, but that I really feel like my home is in the UK now. | Depending on the person and situation, I’ll have different answers to that dreaded question. I’ll tell white lies and change my story as I go, like many other TCKs. Sometimes I’ll go for the quick answer: Finland and Senegal. Other times I’ll tell the whole story: that I was born in Helsinki, moved to Luxembourg, then to Brussels and finally to London. Or I might say that my mum is from Finland and dad from Senegal, but that I really feel like my home is in the UK now. |
| Each time I get the question, I feel like I need to explain myself, prove my origins, and because of that I’ll often find myself omitting parts of my story in order to make my identity more palatable for others. | Each time I get the question, I feel like I need to explain myself, prove my origins, and because of that I’ll often find myself omitting parts of my story in order to make my identity more palatable for others. |
| Living like this can sometimes feel liberating: I feel as though I’m wearing different masks, and I am constantly able to reinvent myself. But this also presents a dilemma: who am I really? Which of these masks is the true me? Where do I belong? In my case, this is made even more complex as I’m biracial. Although I was born in Finland, I’m aware that I don’t look typically Finnish – but seeing as I’ve never lived in Senegal, I feel strange saying I’m from there. Then again, I don’t feel very Finnish either, as I’ve lived abroad for most of my life. They’re both countries where I have family, and are places that I visit every few years – places I think of with nostalgia. But when I’m actually there, I feel out of place, like an outsider. | Living like this can sometimes feel liberating: I feel as though I’m wearing different masks, and I am constantly able to reinvent myself. But this also presents a dilemma: who am I really? Which of these masks is the true me? Where do I belong? In my case, this is made even more complex as I’m biracial. Although I was born in Finland, I’m aware that I don’t look typically Finnish – but seeing as I’ve never lived in Senegal, I feel strange saying I’m from there. Then again, I don’t feel very Finnish either, as I’ve lived abroad for most of my life. They’re both countries where I have family, and are places that I visit every few years – places I think of with nostalgia. But when I’m actually there, I feel out of place, like an outsider. |
| So where is home? Identity is attached to a sense of belonging, usually through family ties or deep emotional connections. Home suggests an emotional place – somewhere you truly belong, but I, like many other TCKs, never quite feel at home anywhere. It feels sometimes that I am in limbo. I am a strange mix of I-don’t-know-what, and sometimes I feel as if I’ll never find that one place where I belong 100%. I just feel blessed to have had the privilege of experiencing so many cultures. | So where is home? Identity is attached to a sense of belonging, usually through family ties or deep emotional connections. Home suggests an emotional place – somewhere you truly belong, but I, like many other TCKs, never quite feel at home anywhere. It feels sometimes that I am in limbo. I am a strange mix of I-don’t-know-what, and sometimes I feel as if I’ll never find that one place where I belong 100%. I just feel blessed to have had the privilege of experiencing so many cultures. |
| Being rootless has given me a sense of freedom. I feel grateful for the experiences I’ve had | Being rootless has given me a sense of freedom. I feel grateful for the experiences I’ve had |
| I sometimes wonder whether my life would be different if I had grown up in one place. I wonder what it would be like to have lived in a house where there were ruler marks beside a doorframe, documenting each of my childhood growth spurts; to have a friend who’s known me since nursery; not to feel like a tourist, wandering around with a map in a country that I’m supposed to embrace as my own. | I sometimes wonder whether my life would be different if I had grown up in one place. I wonder what it would be like to have lived in a house where there were ruler marks beside a doorframe, documenting each of my childhood growth spurts; to have a friend who’s known me since nursery; not to feel like a tourist, wandering around with a map in a country that I’m supposed to embrace as my own. |
| Sometimes I resent the fact that I have to give complicated answers to seemingly simple questions. At other times it all seems rather trivial: as I watch my nieces and nephews growing up, and laying the basis of their identities among multiple cultures, I cannot help but feel proud. What an amazing opportunity, to speak multiple languages and see so many countries. | Sometimes I resent the fact that I have to give complicated answers to seemingly simple questions. At other times it all seems rather trivial: as I watch my nieces and nephews growing up, and laying the basis of their identities among multiple cultures, I cannot help but feel proud. What an amazing opportunity, to speak multiple languages and see so many countries. |
| Being rootless has given me a sense of freedom. I feel grateful for the experiences I’ve had, and I am proud to feel, above all, like a citizen of the world. The possibilities for the future are endless. The sense of being at home anywhere, yet feeling that home is nowhere, is part of who I am. | Being rootless has given me a sense of freedom. I feel grateful for the experiences I’ve had, and I am proud to feel, above all, like a citizen of the world. The possibilities for the future are endless. The sense of being at home anywhere, yet feeling that home is nowhere, is part of who I am. |
| I love being able to choose to be whoever I want, wherever I go. My many masks are a storyboard of all that I am. I’ve gradually built myself an identity that is a collection of pieces, each of which I’ve handpicked; choosing the best bits in order to create a whole. I’ve realised that those pieces are not mutually exclusive, but that they are all dependent on each other. Being rootless doesn’t mean I don’t belong to any one place; it means I choose to belong to many. | I love being able to choose to be whoever I want, wherever I go. My many masks are a storyboard of all that I am. I’ve gradually built myself an identity that is a collection of pieces, each of which I’ve handpicked; choosing the best bits in order to create a whole. I’ve realised that those pieces are not mutually exclusive, but that they are all dependent on each other. Being rootless doesn’t mean I don’t belong to any one place; it means I choose to belong to many. |