From Neither Here Nor There

For some people, one of the first things they think of as a major identifier is “British,”

For others, it’s “American,”

For me, it should be both, but it’s really neither. Or at least that’s how I’ve always felt.

Upon any introduction, you’re supposed to rattle off simple answers to easy questions: your name, your age, and where you’re from. But I always dread that last question because for me, I feel as though the answer requires a paragraph instead of a straightforward, one word answer.

As the daughter of American parents, born in New York City, but raised entirely in London, somewhat of an identity crisis is to be expected. But to complicate matters, when I went to boarding school in the U.S, my entire family moved with me. So when asked where I’m from, London never seems to be the right answer.

Although technically I’m both- I have citizenship for both countries (That’s enough to say I’m from there, right?) -I always feel like I’m lying if I don’t explain my story.

Now halfway through my third year living in the U.S, it feels wrong to say I’m from London, the place where I now visit only once a year. Saying I’m from the UK perpetuates a set of assumptions: I was born there, my parents are from there, I live there (at a boarding school, where you live is usually where you’re from). So when people learn that some of their assumptions, which they understandably made based on my answer to one simple question, are wrong, I feel fake. As though I am misleading people, presenting a false, distorted version of the truth, almost lying to them.

While I will never be "from there" as much as others, what I have realized is that I shouldn't let my feelings of insecurity, of having less of a claim to my identity, restrict me. My definition of where I am from is where I relate to the most, and even though I may never have as deep, or long (whatever) of a connection as others, it is still where I consider to be most like my home, and that’s enough.

PC: Miley Xiao