Showing posts with label Musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musings. Show all posts

Monday, March 17, 2014

What's it Like to Be a TCK?

It is difficult to understand exactly what it's like to be an TCK, a Third Culture Kid, or someone who has had more than one cultural identity. One of the problems in understanding a TCK is a lot of people don't try to understand them because they assume that they're not really that different from anyone else. I can assure you, they are a lot more different than you would guess by just looking at them!
I'm a TCK myself; I spent all of high school in different countries than where I was born. I can speak two languages; I often prefer wearing the shalwar kamis of India to jeans and shirts, and I would much rather eat dahl and rice than a hamburger and fries. Yet I'd also rather speak English than Hindi and I'd rather be in a forest than in a desert. I am a mixed bag of cultures.

So why aren't TCKs understood?

1. Many people don't know exactly what a TCK is. Even many TCKs don't know what a TCK is, and even more TCKs have no idea that they are one. We're familiar with the terms MK (missionary kid), and MB (military brat), but we forget about kids who were born with parents of two different ethnic backgrounds, refugee kids, kids who moved from one country to another in their early age, and kids who have a different home culture than the culture of their surroundings. All of these are TCKs. In essence a TCK is a kid who has at least two predominant ethnic cultural influences in their life. 

2. There are many different kinds of TCKs that are very different from each other. No two TCKs are alike. Consider three of my closest friends, Daniel, Beth, Caleb, and myself. We were all TCKs in India at one point, but we are very different from one another.

Beth spent eight years in Africa, eight years in India, and is now in England. She is influenced by all of those cultures. She also lived in an area of India where most people spoke English and were comparatively upper-class. She has spent nearly no time in the country her parents are from. She was home schooled, so in the TCK community that usually means that she spent a predominant amount of time with Indians or Africans, but she still got an American education and probably views the world through an American perspective as much as she views it from an Indian or African one.

My friend Caleb spent time in Indonesia and India and was affected by both of these cultures. He also went to an international school, so he was predominantly affected by other TCKs like himself from all over the world. This will affect how he views his country.

My friend Daniel is a TCK from two different places. as well, but while he spent nearly all of his life in one country he has spent only a few years in India. He is also home schooled but he interacts with many other TCKs who influence the way he views the world.

I lived most of my life in America. When I did leave overseas, I went from country to country very rapidly and did not have much time to develop a connection with a specific country. I lived in India for only a year, and the year I was there I worked among a predominantly poor community. I was online schooled and my social interactions were with other TCKs. this affected my worldview.

 3. There aren't very many of us. Although we are indeed a subculture, we are a very small subculture that is not easily recognizable or identified and with characteristics very diverse from each other.

I want to make it a little easier to understand what exactly a TCK is.

A TCK is unique. Other than their immediate family, no one in the world has shared the exact same experiences that they have experienced. This can make them feel alone and misunderstood, and they often feel like their experiences aren't appreciated by other people even though they know they have a lot to offer if anyone listened. This uniqueness can make a TCK feel insecure, lonely, or proud. It also can be something to enjoy and appreciate, and they can use their unique experience to influence others with less experience to see the world in a broader way.

A TCK chooses where they are from--and that's okay! When you have an affiliation to two countries or more, you can say which one you're from or can simply say it's complicated. If you feel you are from a country that people think you're not from, you have the right to claim it and you can stick to your guns. A friend of mine is Japanese, even though she is Caucasian and has American citizenship. She has the right to claim she is Japanese, because to a TCK where you're from doesn't have to deal with what the color or your skin is or where your passport comes from. It has to do with what culture has influenced you the most and what culture you identify yourself with. She thinks like a Japanese person, acts like a Japanese person, and dresses like a Japanese person--and she's allowed to do that! In my case, I refrain from telling people where I'm from because I am from many places, and I feel like it is a betrayal to the countries I come from to claim one above the other. Each TCK has the right to sort through this complicated subject the way they see fit, and this right should be respected.

A TCK can have a broader worldview. Having lived in a culture who has a potentially completely different outlook on life than their parents, TCKs can pick and choose which systems of thought work and which do not. Monocultural kids only get to deal with ideas and philosophies that spring up from their own culture or see other culture's perspectives through the lens of their own. A TCK is often exposed to more ideas than a monocultural kid from a very young age. This can cause them to understand the world at large a little better and think more critically on ideas they come across. It also can cause a sense of misplaced pride as they see the flaws in the ideas of people with less international experience.


TCKs have missed out. Let's be honest, living in two countries your entire life may only give you half the picture of both countries. I knew a woman whose parents had immigrated from Mexico to America when she was young; as a result she knew neither English nor Spanish fluently. This caused in her a deep sense of cultural confusion and frustration she would not have experienced if she had not moved. A TCK may grow bitter about moving from the country they care about or about not experiencing the life a monocultural person does. Other TCKs have not had the opportunity to build deep relationships with people around them because of how much they have moved. Some TCKs are bitter towards the loss that they have experienced in their lives. Although there are many benefits to being a TCK, I do not want to diminish the fact that many TCKs are hurting people like everyone else.

TCKs appreciate culture. Many TCKs are mini-cultural anthropologists and notice aspects of ethnic cultures and reasons behind them in ways that Monocultural kids do not. They have the ability to appreciate differences easier, understand the cause of differences, and cross cultural or social barriers with ease. They often like not only the cultures they lived in but the cultures their other TCK friends are from. They may choose to follow a random cultural fad from a culture they've never been to because they love it when they find a culture that does something the right way. TCKs in general feel comfortable around other TCKs; at the same time, however, they can become judgmental and easily annoyed with people who have had less experience worldwide.

TCKs are often missing someplace. We miss things about America when we're overseas. We miss things about overseas when we're in America. When we're in college or in boarding school we don't get to see our family more than once or twice a year. Many of us are used to letting go of things and starting over. Some TCKs have become extremely adaptable to wherever they find themselves because they've learned to blend in so often. Some TCKs can never go back to where they grew up, like refugees or families who have been kicked out of countries. Some kids have moved so often that they miss the feeling of having a home.

Hopefully this will help you gain a better appreciation of TCKs in general. Please feel free to leave comments about your own experiences or any questions you might have!

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Seven Pages Shy

There's this feeling that happens on three occasions.
The first is when you're at a restaurant and have just finished eating, when you discover you've left your wallet at home.
The second is when you're taking a test, remember having read about this question this morning, and still don't remember the answer.
And the third is when you are writing a paper and have written as much as you know about a subject as languidly as possible. It's still seven pages below the the required number of pages. Seven pages below!

This last situation is where I find myself now. I seriously have nothing else logical to add to the paper, and there are no extra arguments I can add either--believe me, I've looked. I've exhausted my arguments, and they're beginning to exhaust me.
I asked my teacher if the bibliography could count--well, there's no harm to try--but he said no, obviously. I've tried making it seem longer. I've added an unnecessary discussion of Edward De Vere and Christopher Marlowe. I've even decided to talk about his reputation of skipping taxes, which has got to be the most uninteresting argument I've ever heard. I may have to talk about it for another five pages. This paper's due on Wednesday. It should technically have been due last Friday, but my teacher thankfully gave me some grace (no, he's not completely heartless--though everybody feels heartless right now, even innocent little Dr. Seuss. Don't ask what Dr. Seuss has to do with this; I don't want to talk about it.)
I don't think I will ever forgive Shakespeare for this. Every time I read a Shakespeare play I'll say to myself, "Just because you can make Othello speak for two columns about nothing doesn't mean I have to praise you about it for 25 pages!"

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

A Cup of Tea

Life is fast. Sometimes I crawl into bed at night and think to myself, "have I done anything of importance today? Today looked remarkably like yesterday, and yesterday looked remarkably like the day before that--what am I getting done with my life? Will I ever get anything done with my life? Is this is what my future holds for me, nothing but the monotonous tasks of days that repeat themselves like a rat-wheel?"
Then, in the morning, I sit down. I pour water into a mug and drop a teabag into it. I watch, fascinated, as swirls of color slowly eminate from the bag and envolop the bottom of it in a rich earthy-brown haze. Whisps of surreal steam flutter on the surface. I crawl onto a comfortable chair with my school book and listen as birds chirp outside the window in the drooping trees. They don't seem to mind that their existance is completely hopeless, that probably by tomorrow my cat will kill one of them. I curl my fingers around my cup and close my eyes.
Why are the little things in life the most beautiful?



Wednesday, March 6, 2013

What's Beauty?

Who knew that two countries could view beauty in completely different ways? Isn't it weird that what's considered beautiful in one culture is considered the essence of ugliness in another? Some of my students were admiring my mole a few months ago. It took them a while to agree it was a mole since it was brown instead of black, but once they did you would have thought it was a heart-shaped birthmark. A moment later they were pointing out each other's moles and complimenting them. Needless to say, I was shocked. Once I figured out what "mole" was in Urdu, I asked, "Are these beautiful in this country?"
            "Oh yes, especially if they are here," my student said, pointing right above her lip. It took a lot of self-control to keep a straight face.
            I'm pretty sure that uni-brows are also considered beautiful, although no one's told me that directly except our house helper; she says that uni-brows are nice as long as they aren’t harry. I know a Hindu girl who has a small v tattooed on her forehead to join her brows, and although tattoos are often used to disfigure beauty they're often used to decorate as well. In The Kite-Runner, a book that addresses a similar culture to the one I live in, the narrator praises his wife for her uni-brow that "looks like a bird in flight." In the same sentence the author praises her hooked nose. People call small noses mota, or fat, and although I've never heard of anybody liking their nose, all of my girl students with small noses complain about them. All kids who have naturally brown hair dye it black.
            My friend Mary tells me that I'm fat for my age. Considering how thin she is I don't take this as seriously as I'd like to; it's one of those moments when you just have to laugh to endure. Just to test her I asked her if one of our married friends was fat, knowing that the lady wasn't fat at all but wanting to know what her opinion was. Mary paused for a moment, then answered, "she's all right for her age. But you're younger."
            "Mary, I'm American. We're just built different than you."
            "What about American models?"
            It's difficult to explain that Hollywood is in America, not America in Hollywood.
            One of the things I get a lot is that I'm beautiful because I'm so ghora, or white. The whiter you are, the more beautiful you are regardless of any other traits you have. When we first moved here my language helper was a girl about my age, and I thought she was admirably beautiful—tall, dark, with thick black hair, a thin face, and large bright eyes. One day she complained to me that she was ugly.
            "What are you talking about?" I demanded, shocked that she would say such a thing.
            “I’m black,” she answered, and for the first time I noticed that she was exceptionally dark for a South Asian. It drives me crazy how these beautiful girls will put their hands on mine and say, “oh you’re so white, I’m so ugly,” but it gets worse than that.
            I was talking to two older girls a few weeks ago and we casually got into a conversation that all girls love to talk about: marriage.
            “Are you going to marry someone from this country?” Mulan asked.
            “Maybe—if it’s God’s will, and I love him.”
            The girls looked at each other. “You would even marry a Sheeti?”
            Sheeti is the derogative term for Kumrani; they’re a small people group that are the descendants of the Sindhi African slaves. Back in the day when this country had kings and queens, the royal family would take slaves from Africa just as our own ancestors did years ago. One of my closest friends is a Kumrani, and we often go to Kumrani functions with her. More than any other people group I know, they are full of energy, pride, beauty and intelligence. So when my students asked me their question the answer was easy.
            “Well, if it was God’s will, and I loved him, then of course I’d marry him.”
            The girls giggled. “But you’re so white, and he’d be so black!”
            These girls have never seen a Sheeti in their lives so I understand a little where they’re coming from, but it disturbed me that they so quickly discarded an entire race of people because of the color of their skin. But don’t we do that? It may not be skin color, but don’t we discard people because of the way they look? I know I do. I involuntarily ignore the person who doesn’t catch my eye, and am drawn to making friends with people who are good-looking.
            Who made me the judge of God’s handiwork? What right do I have to say one thing is beautiful and another is unattractive? When God says in Genesis that man is very good, he meant that. The point is to see the beauty a person has regardless of the affects of a sinful world. Every person has beauty, because God made man good.
            That goes for how I look at other people, and also how I look at myself. Sure I’m not a model—thank goodness—but God made me beautiful in my own way. We shouldn’t beat our heads against the wall because people think we’re unattractive, because really, who’s judgment is better, God’s or man’s?  Ten to one there’s someone somewhere in the world who thinks you’re beautiful. The grass is always greener on the other side—South Asians bleach their skin, white people get a tan, fat people go on a diet, thin people eat more, straight haired people own curlers and curly-haired people own straighteners. Really. We focus so much on the outside of people as if God could make a mistake.
            God can’t make a mistake. But we can. That’s why when Samuel went king-hunting and kept getting fixed on the strong handsome men, God put his priorities straight: “Man looks on the outside of a person, but God looks at the heart.” We can’t change how we look, but we can change our hearts and that’s what God wants us to focus on.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Home

I got an email from an old friend today--way back from Oregon. She reminded me of all the fun times we used to have, our walks through the woods, snow-fights, old friends we had and our favorite past-times.
It's silly but after reading it I felt really sad and really joyful at the same time. I felt joyful because I love hearing from her and remembering all of those good times, but sad because I know that I will not be able to return to Oregon for several years to come.
Oregon has always been the place I've called "home." But when I return to America, I won't be going home. I'll just be going somewhere else. Perhaps some day the South will become my home, but the old Oregon has changed by now and is not longer my home. In a way, I'm homeless.
Being in that constant state of transition has made it difficult for me to place value in people and moments, has caused me in a spirit of discontent I have no right to have.
God has given me the friends I have, the family I would die for, the experience that not many other people have had. I'm glad for the times I've had and the times I'm going to have--each moment of my life should be something precious that I cherish.
As for home, my friend Beth understands that. Home is not where you live or where you have lived or where you're going to live--home is where the heart is, and my heart should be with Christ. And I've better get used to being in transition because I don't think I'll be going "home" for a while.


Saturday, February 23, 2013

What Makes a Book Christian?


            I guess this is more of a writer question than a reader question. In general readers don't really care if a book's Christian or not as long as it's good. I've never met anybody dead set on reading only Christian books.
            But there are plenty of Christian writers who are dead set on writing them. After all, if you're Christian you want to be a witness to God and glorify him, and how can you glorify him by writing an apparently unchristian book? That would put us in the box of "secular" and how can that be glorifying to God?
            I've been wondering about this for a while now. Since I started writing at fourteen my Mom would always ask me if my book had a "redeeming quality" about it. For a long time I thought she just meant all the characters should be Christian, or at least become Christian in the end, or at least I should spell out the gospel at some point.
            Then I thought, why? If a book is Christian, who will read it? Probably only people who already know the gospel. So what good will that do them if I tell them the gospel? I've never heard of anybody being converted by reading a book besides the Bible.
            I will admit I don't have much expertise on Christian books. If you rule out Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter and The Chronicles of Narnia then I have only read five. Two of them were from the Mandy Series. The other two were from some wild-west genre similar to The Love Comes softly series. The last one I just finished was The Last Sin Eater which was in fact the only Christian book I have enjoyed.
            None of these books edified me. None of them drew me closer to Christ in any way. All of them had a moment of someone converting, and most of them were simply every-day lives with characters facing situations with "God's on my side," or "God'll take care of us." Things like that sound unhelpful enough in real life, but they're downright cheesy in a book. And because books say things like that, they're considered Christian.
            I write books. My first book, I'll admit, was in the Christian-convert category. My second book was in the Cheesy-Christian category which is why I never had it published. And now, starting my third book which has absolutely no direct reference to God at all, I have chosen to keep it that way.
            As Christians we should make everything we do glorifying to God, but the thing is: are books that are geared to help unbelievers come to faith helpful when unbelievers never read them? Are books that simply shove God into them because the author feels he needs to helpful? What makes a book glorifying to God? I think J.K. Rowling understood that in the Harry Potter series when she kept the reference to salvation to the end, hooking an unbelieving audience so that they would hear what she had to say. And hey, what unbeliever hasn't read Harry Potter?
            Take Lord of the Rings. There is no God, technically. Actually there are several "gods" who made the world and who were all made by one God. Technically it is not an allegory. So why is the series considered Christian? Because the book exemplifies a Christian response to difficult problems. Books like that help you think about life, help you apply Christianity to problems the world faces.
            I feel more edified reading non-Christian books than Christian books. I guess it's because Christians oftentimes don't think about important issues; they assume that "Jesus died" conquers everything. And it's true. But how? What is everything that Jesus conquers? How should we face those issues with a Christian perspective?
            Another book is Notes From Underground. The Russian author (and I'm not going to bother trying to spell his name)  was definitely a Christian, but the book never mentions God. In fact, the book is the opposite of mentioning God. It's about a sniveling little nihilist who's trying to avoid fate. Because the book brought up these important issues and made me think about them, I felt it was much more edifying than any "Christian" book I have ever read.
            Esther in the Bible never mentions God. The whole book never says anything about him at all. But is that book Christian? Well, it's in the Bible! And it points to God's salvation and protection of his people. Jesus's stories don't always talk about God either, but they show what God's world is like.
            I've decided that I can glorify God in my books without even having to mention him. The book itself is Christian because I am Christian; the book is Christian because it is written from a Christian's perspective of God's world. I want my Christian audience to think about the issues of racism, euthanasia and tyranny; I don't want my non-Christian audience to shut down from facing these issues simply because my Characters keep saying "God" when they don't need to.
            What my Mom meant by redeeming quality was not that the whole story is totally negligent of the real world and only attached to Christianity by a small thread of "God"s mentioned here and there. The book itself will be redemptive if it points to characteristics of God or of mankind that will encourage us as Christians and make us think about important issues. That's what really makes a book Christian.
            

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Traveling


I think you know what this feels like.

This is my home. I've set my heart to let this little nook be mine.
I'm done with traveling and wandering to pass my idle time.
My curtain up, and thrilling in the wind that flows from door to door—
Such a sweet wind—and now my carpets sleeping on my dusty floor
From Italy and India, from Russia and from many more,
Simply to rest forever more on this infernal dusty floor.
Well, never mind. The wood will do. It groans beneath my heavy gait,
But it is wood, like all those wild forests. It will compensate,
And that oak bookshelf filled with all my ancient paperbacks I've kept
Against my better judgment, for the shrieks I've howled and tears I've wept
Still echo in those pages, even as they rustle in the gentle breeze
That flows from door to door and tries to set my wild heart at ease
On lonely days when I'd feel better if I had a wicked friend
Or when I have a restless mood and feel this pit-stop has no end.
That wind that flows from door to door, from desert east to ocean west,
Reminds me of those distant lands where food is good and water blest—
Confound it all! This dirty floor! These books all staring down at me!
This crazy breeze! These lazy rugs! Oh would the world just let me be!

Friday, February 15, 2013

A Pleasing Aroma


Our language teacher’s cousin had a baby yesterday, and today we learned our househelper’s daughter is going to have a baby! Lots of life coming around.
            It’s odd to think of Sarah’s daughter pregnant. She got married about three months ago, and she’s my age if not younger. She’s moved away from her family, and most people in her situation would feel saddened—but Katrina’s still one of the happiest people I know.
            It kind of makes me feel silly when I’m discontent. I have everything I want—well not everything I want, but everything necessary to have a healthy attitude. But I don’t have one oftentimes. I tend to complain about little things like my computer freezing up and my cat’s wounded foot.
            I’ve never heard Katrina complain about anything. She always has this bright beautiful smile on her face; she’s always friendly and loving. She could have found a lot of things to complain about but she didn’t. She’s not even a believer.
            Kind of puts me to shame when an unbeliever is more Christlike than I am. My life is supposed to be an aroma to God, but I don’t choose to live up to God’s ideals. Lord, make me more like Katrina so that I can draw people to you!


“As a pleasing aroma I will accept you, when I bring you out from the peoples and gather you out of the countries where you have been scattered. And I will manifest my holiness among you in the sight of the nations.”
Ezekiel 20:41

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

All is Vanity

Sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in the unimportant things of life. It’s easy to spend an hour or less with God, then go through your life and forget about him. But without Christ, we’re not getting anywhere.
            “Back to the rat race,” is what I think to myself every time I wake up on Monday morning. That’s what it feels like: running around in circles and getting nowhere. That’s why Ecclesiastes 1 is one of my favorite poems; it reminds me that unless Christ is my foundation, I’m just the blowing wind.

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher
Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes,
But the earth remains forever.
The sun rises, and the sun goes down,
And hastens to the place where it rises.
The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north;
Around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns.
All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full;
To the place where the streams flow, there they flow again.
 All things are full of weariness; a man cannot utter it;
The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done,
And there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said, "See, this is new"?
It has been already in the ages before us.
There is no remembrance of former things,
Nor will there be any remembrance of later things yet to be among those who come after.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Turtles



Living in our large houses that shield us from the elements, it’s easy to forget how fragile life is and what a precious gift God has given us.
                When we went to the beach last weekend we found a nest of baby turtles hatching early in the morning. Dogs and crows found the nest before us and had eaten several of these small, struggling babies during their trip from their hole to the water. The rest of them were still underground when we arrived, and we watched with excitement as little head after little head popped out of the sand. We put them in a bucket to protect them and carried them home so they could be released at night, but we did put two of them into the ocean to watch them swim—what an adorable sight! They’d shoot forward under the water, then stick their tiny black heads above the waves to get a gulp of air before setting off again. We held a few, and I was amazed at how strong and durable they seemed already. I guess they have to be that way in order to survive.
                Can you imagine if humans survived the way turtles did? If we buried our kids in the sand, then made them crawl out before they suffocate, and crawl a quarter a mile to the ocean, then swim for miles and miles till they found us? And most of them would get eaten on the way.
                It makes me thankful for my warm house and a cup of tea. I’m glad God made people the way he did.

This turtle believes he can fly.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Mirrors and Cameras


The mirror is the biggest liar I’ve ever met. It tells me every morning, “You’re charming, your hair is perfect,” and I only half believe it. The camera, now, that’s a different story: it’s honest, blunt, and I’d rather not know its opinion of me.
The mirror says that my bangs parted to the side makes me look certain of myself. The camera says it makes me look like I’m balding.
The mirror says my lop-sided smile makes me look ironic and witty. The camera makes it look like a spasm.
The mirror says my face is a nice color. Maybe it’s the lighting in the bathroom, because the camera likes to poke fun at my freckles.
I’ve decided to not consult the camera about my looks again. I prefer the lighting in the bathroom.



P.S. You ever want to get me a birthday present, find me Lady Shallot's mirror. Now that. Is cool. Or find me the mirror of Erised at Hogwarts, that'd work too.