Leggi in italiano
One of the most frequent questions I am asked, and that I find very difficult to answer, is the simple “Where are you from?”.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. After years of dithering, I finally took the plunge and applied (and succeeded) to become a British citizen.
You might think the above question has a simple answer and, well, for many people that’s so. But for me, and even more so for many people, more and more nowadays, there is no straight answer to the question.
I was born in Italy to Italian parents – that makes me Italian you say. Yes, but only to some extent. That identity was always ill-fitting on my shoulders, like handmedown clothes. I left Italy at 18.
I became a UK citizen – so you’re English/British, I hear you scream at me. Again… am I? To some I never will be. To myself… I don’t “feel” it.
When other English speakers hear me talk, they always note the “English” accent, though after a while with Americans it can soften quite a bit.
The closest “identity” I feel that fits me is that of Londoner. I am and will always be a Londoner at heart. Not many cities accept you and take you in regardless of where you’ve come from, what language you speak, what job you do or how much money you have. So that’s what I am. If there was an official London citizenship, that’s what I would have gone for, but we are still stuck on nationalities. Also, again judging by the recent UK elections, this sense of difference from the rest of the country and belonging together is not limited to us originally “foreigners”. Central London seems to be a magnet that attracts mostly like-minded people.
Other friends ask, would you have gone for British if it meant dropping your Italian nationality? The answer is I don’t know. Until you are faced with the reality of this choice, I don’t know what I would do…
My family remain in Italy, most of my work is in the UK and Europe, my friends a bit all over the place. The food I love, though it started in Italy, has now branched out to impossible and unexpected locations. I feel that by defining myself by my nationality I am restricting myself. Maybe it is a malaise of this age: look at me, there is so much more to me than just this label! Still… it does not feel right for me.
Let’s think about this a different way. A person born of, say, a French mother and a Senegalese father, maybe born in the USA but grown up in Hong Kong, where are THEY from? My head spins. It fascinates me. An African friend of mine said he identifies as black first and foremost. Me, as I said, Londoner and, I guess, a woman first and foremost. Race and nationality for me don’t hold much sway, but identity is after all a fluid concept.
I know it’s cheesy but, sometimes, I’d just like to say, I’m from Planet Earth, and you?
Sara. Your thoughts ring true, and for me they surfaced overtones related to the concept of family, another traditional form of identity. How is it that we give such high priority in defining family to our closest genetic linkages? Why is our spouse (who is supposed to be far away from us genetically) defined as perhaps our closest family member and yet we can feel no link to our twin sibling? How is it possible to feel closer to an adopted child than to a spouse birthed child? Why can I feel more brotherhood with a brother from the hood than with my brother by birth? Why is my sense of family so different from the dictionary definition. Loose definitional boundaries make for a large family. Hugs to all of you out there…my siblings and parents and children I have yet to meet. Be well. I love you.
What lvoely thoughts Paul, and thought-provoking. I feel the same as you. I feel that the best family is the one we choose, which hopefully can include some “blood” relatives as well. But blood doesn’t mean much to me, more shared expereinces and values. I cna only continue to expand my view on this 🙂
<3