Kindly-Anonniii
The world spins madly on
- Sep 3, 2020
- 9
I've been thinking about it, and no matter what I always come to the same conclusion.
This isn't necessarily a talk about gender identity and other similar 'hotbutton' issues (Though, that discussion is most certainly welcome)
I'm mainly talking from the perspective of a brown child cast into a foreign and frankly 'alien' culture.
As an immigrant child, I was whisked away to a foreign, western country at a fairly young age (before 10).
Looking back, I don't think my younger self quite understood the consequences of that act.
My parents wanted the best for me, and I don't think it was a decision made out of malice or bad intentions.
However it feels like that no matter how I slice it, the stunting of the development of my cultural identity, (and in turn, my identity as a whole) feels like a contributing factor to the way I feel.
I've never been diagnosed, and frankly I feel quite scared as it may affect my future prospects. (even if they say otherwise)
After immigration, I was signed up for a fairly multicultural school (I'd say nearly 1/3 - 1/2 of the students were also immigrants, or at least were the children of immigrants).
In a funny way, I feel as though this may have also been detrimental, as despite the variety of cultures and backgrounds present, the culture I was part of was still a minority.
The only language spoken there was english, and I utilized it well, speaking it from even before we immigrated.
In an insane twist though, it made me lose my ability to speak my native tongue, as it simply wasn't practical.
It came to a point where i was speaking to my parents in english at home, as it was something understood by everyone in the household.
My parents tried their best, and I love them for it, but I can understand that putting food over the table, and a house over our heads ultimately took priority over cultivating our native culture with my sister and I.
My mum was a House Cleaner after she immigrated working odd hours, and just going wherever her clients needed her, often hours into the city.
She would work weird hours and days as she took public transport (we were too poor to afford a car, and my father was the only who could drive).
The image of my mom lugging around chlorine and chemical soaked rags around public transport hurts me, it must've been hard for her.
A foreigner woman, smelling like cleaning products carrying rags around.
My father's situation wasn't any better, as the main breadwinner of the family he was what we would call a 'FIFO' (Fly-in, Fly-out).
He would work with various mining companies doing contract work on a weekly rotation.
This meant he was with us for 1 week, and then gone for 2.
I don't hate him for it as it's a tough role for anyone, and it meant alot of missed graduations, achievements, and bonding time.
For the most part it was me and my sister alone.
She had a slightly better situation than I, as shes a few years older she had a more developed cultural identity was more easily able to maintain our native heritage.
But I'm sure she had/has her own battles. (This is something I haven't discussed with her)
I think that the lack of consistent parental presence was a major contributing factor to the way I feel now.
I love my parents for everything they have done, and more.
But a part of me wishes things turned out different.
Honestly I could go on and on about this, among other issues I have.
But here's my question:
Does any other immigrant feel the same?
All are free to discuss, even if its something as small as moving states, or cities, it all stems from the same root.
Much love <3
This isn't necessarily a talk about gender identity and other similar 'hotbutton' issues (Though, that discussion is most certainly welcome)
I'm mainly talking from the perspective of a brown child cast into a foreign and frankly 'alien' culture.
As an immigrant child, I was whisked away to a foreign, western country at a fairly young age (before 10).
Looking back, I don't think my younger self quite understood the consequences of that act.
My parents wanted the best for me, and I don't think it was a decision made out of malice or bad intentions.
However it feels like that no matter how I slice it, the stunting of the development of my cultural identity, (and in turn, my identity as a whole) feels like a contributing factor to the way I feel.
I've never been diagnosed, and frankly I feel quite scared as it may affect my future prospects. (even if they say otherwise)
After immigration, I was signed up for a fairly multicultural school (I'd say nearly 1/3 - 1/2 of the students were also immigrants, or at least were the children of immigrants).
In a funny way, I feel as though this may have also been detrimental, as despite the variety of cultures and backgrounds present, the culture I was part of was still a minority.
The only language spoken there was english, and I utilized it well, speaking it from even before we immigrated.
In an insane twist though, it made me lose my ability to speak my native tongue, as it simply wasn't practical.
It came to a point where i was speaking to my parents in english at home, as it was something understood by everyone in the household.
My parents tried their best, and I love them for it, but I can understand that putting food over the table, and a house over our heads ultimately took priority over cultivating our native culture with my sister and I.
My mum was a House Cleaner after she immigrated working odd hours, and just going wherever her clients needed her, often hours into the city.
She would work weird hours and days as she took public transport (we were too poor to afford a car, and my father was the only who could drive).
The image of my mom lugging around chlorine and chemical soaked rags around public transport hurts me, it must've been hard for her.
A foreigner woman, smelling like cleaning products carrying rags around.
My father's situation wasn't any better, as the main breadwinner of the family he was what we would call a 'FIFO' (Fly-in, Fly-out).
He would work with various mining companies doing contract work on a weekly rotation.
This meant he was with us for 1 week, and then gone for 2.
I don't hate him for it as it's a tough role for anyone, and it meant alot of missed graduations, achievements, and bonding time.
For the most part it was me and my sister alone.
She had a slightly better situation than I, as shes a few years older she had a more developed cultural identity was more easily able to maintain our native heritage.
But I'm sure she had/has her own battles. (This is something I haven't discussed with her)
I think that the lack of consistent parental presence was a major contributing factor to the way I feel now.
I love my parents for everything they have done, and more.
But a part of me wishes things turned out different.
Honestly I could go on and on about this, among other issues I have.
But here's my question:
Does any other immigrant feel the same?
All are free to discuss, even if its something as small as moving states, or cities, it all stems from the same root.
Much love <3
