We’re in an age where identity means everything. For millennia, who you are has opened and closed doors, but never before has where you’re from been so important.
We can’t deny that immigration is a problem: it’s grabbed the globe’s attention as few issues ever have. But before you can argue whether people from one country should be allowed to live in another, we need to address how exactly we judge nationality.
Looks can be deceiving
It’s common for people of colour in Britain (and beyond) to be asked the inevitable question: where are you from? It rarely matters if your answer is Islington or Ilford. What they’re really asking about is your ancestry.
It’s baffling that something as antiquated as ancestry is still a discussion point. It’s feels like being asked if you ‘come from good stock’. I’m sure (I hope) many ask purely through interest in a culture or country outside their own, but they wouldn’t ask the same of white people. It seems regardless of progress and change, we still equate appearance with nationality.
When I first met my ex, he asked where my parents were from. I told him (Battersea and Brighton) and somehow, he ended up correcting me. “No, no – originally. You look Persian.” It threw me for a loop, and not just for being the first mention of Persia outside of gaming since the 1930s. I can’t say I’d ever considered where I look like I’m from.
When I brought this up with others, I was met with “Oh, I thought that too” or “No way. I’ve always thought Italian.” It’s true that whenever I got to Italy I get asked directions and such in the native tongue, but my reaction is simply embarrassment at my poor Italian.
Home is where the heart is
I come from an extended family of five adoptions, including my grandfather. It means that my ‘heritage’ is fairly obscure and no one knows for sure what lies in our combined genes. Perhaps my elusive great-grandfather was Iranian, Italian or perhaps he was simply swarthy. Regardless, it has no bearing on where I’m from or how I identify myself. Which brings us to the crux of nationality: is it something we own or something others dictate?
Someone I met blew this discussion wide open for me when he stated he was Scottish – in a crisp, Queen’s English accent. I asked if he lived there (never), was born there (no) or perhaps hailed from around the border (not even close). He was born in Bedford, lived in London and went to Oxford University. What he did have, however, was Scottish heritage. A huge part of me wanted to argue his claim – you can’t just choose your nationality without any experience of the country itself. If genes mattered that much, why stop at Scotland? Why not figure out where his earliest ancestors were from and say he’s from there.
Such thoughts and arguments are utterly presumptuous however. Who am I to argue someone else’s identity? For that matter, who is anyone else to do so? If you were born in Australia, raised in England, moved to Scotland, went to University in the Netherlands and now work in the US, how can someone determine your identity in a single word?
Borderline rude
It’s a discussion we need to have in a time where travel makes the whole world a day away. You’ll often hear people speaking about ‘Londoners’. We have an image of who we are, have traits ascribed to us (usually rude) but London itself doesn’t really care where you’re from. People flock here and accents, history, birthplace, ethnicity, mean nothing in such a melting pot.
I’ve lived in different countries and those experiences have shaped me hugely. Part of me will always feel Japanese, despite not looking it. In Japan, however, looks are everything. There was huge uproar when their Miss Universe 2015 winner was mixed race.
People believed Ariana Miyamoto was not Japanese enough; she was born and raised in Japan, her mother is Japanese, as is her first language. But because of an African American father, she is called ‘hāfu’ – Japanese for half. In Japan, looks lead the way in determining your nationality whether you want it to or not.
Where do we go from here?
We can all agree that’s fairly ridiculous. So what does it come down to? Spend the first weeks of your life in a country and you get nationality there, regardless of if you ever return. Sometimes just having parents from that country is enough – look at Dom Wolf. He faces citizenship tests and deportation despite being born and raised here, all because his german parents wanted his passport to reflect his heritage. A costly decision.
At the end of the day, borders cannot hold back culture, character and connection. We live in incredible times, where even something as once strict as gender has become fluid. Yet a little line on a map still dictates and determines how others see us, welcome us and treat us. It borders on madness.
How do you determine your identity? What makes you a Londoner? Have your say on the Felix forum:
The post Looks and Map Lines: Determining the Future of Identity appeared first on Felix Magazine.
Looks and Map Lines: Determining the Future of Identity posted first on http://www.felixmagazine.com/
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