Stepping Into the Shoes of a Third Culture Kid
The question, “Where are you from?” is more complex than people intend. I find it too commonly utilized as a social device for bonding, and I, frankly, am tired of trying to answer it. The question is too ambiguous, and my answer always seems to confuse people. And no, me being half-Latina and half-German is not an invitation for you to tell me where your ancestors are from or to ask me to say something in the languages I know, like a circus animal performing a trick.
And just because I live in a place that I’m not ethnically from does not mean that I am actually from that place. I may live in Japan and speak Japanese, but that does not mean I’m Japanese. Just the other day, one of my good friends even confused that; when G Yamazawa performed last Friday, he asked for Asians to raise their hands. She looked at me expectantly, and I raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to realize her mistake. Where I come from may take a while longer to explain than most people, but it really isn’t that complicated.
Before, I would always cater to what people would want me to say. Whenever someone asked me, “Where are you from?” I would always scramble for a reply, not wanting to make my answer too long or “inconvenient.” My answer would always either be, “I’m German,” or,“I’m Latina,” or, “I’m from Tokyo.”
I did this, because in my experience, whenever people don’t understand where you’re from, they get annoyed. Once, after I explained where I was from, a girl asked me, “Are you sure you’re not just Italian? You look Italian.” And recently another person got so frustrated with my answer not being simple enough that she yelled, “What actually are you?!” I explained to her, again, my version of the third-culture kid story.
A third-culture kid is a term used to refer to children who were raised in a culture outside of their parents’ culture for most of their lives; their parents are also from two different cultures. I’m half-Latina and half-German and have lived in Tokyo for most of my life. I speak five languages as a result of my diverse upbringing. Those are the cold hard facts. And there are always the same three reactions: there are the people who ask me to say the same sentence in all five languages, the people who take it as an invitation to tell me their ancestors’ ethnicities, and the people who just stare at me, asking me to repeat what I said because they couldn’t grasp it the first time and probably won’t the second time either.
One of my biggest peeves is that after I explain where I’m from, the person I’m talking to will reply, “Well, I’m one-eighth German, and one-sixteenth Irish, and one-fourth Chinese…” and so on. No, when I say where I’m from, it may take a while to explain, but that’s really as simple as it gets. I’m not trying to impress anyone; it’s just my life as a third-culture kid.
However, if someone who is just plain American decides to go into their distant past and explain all the places their ancestors are from, that’s not really the truth. Being “American” in general has no meaning; honestly, only native-Americans can call themselves truly “American” and be completely truthful about it. America is the melting pot of the world, therefore every American has ancestors from all over the world, and nowadays that’s what being an “American” means. But just because your ancestors are a certain ethnicity, does not mean you are of that ethnicity as well.
On one occasion, the annoyance caught up with me when someone decided to “try to connect with me” by telling me that they were “a little bit” German. I asked, “Do you speak German? Have you ever been to Germany? Do you know what a Weihnachtsmarkt is?” When the person responded “no” to all my questions, I simply replied, “Then you’re not German. You’re American.” They got mad, but I saw it as doing them a favor for telling them the truth, sooner rather than later.
This is not a jab at anyone. I’m just tired of having to explain myself. My diverse background is not a challenge to your background; again, you don’t need to try to impress or overshadow me with your many ancestors and their diverse ethnicities. And please, stop asking me to say sentences in all the languages I know. I understand that it’s not every day you meet someone who has as diverse a background as I do, but I’m tired of playing that game.
Where I’m from may take longer to explain, and my answer may not be as simple as some expect. Where I’m from is not that hard to conceptualize; just think a little harder than usual, and it will be easy to understand.