Identity

"Where are you from?" She asked after hearing my oddly American-ish accent.

"Um...Well, I'm American—to make it simple. Um, yeah." I replied awkwardly.

This awkward dialogue happens every time I meet someone new. After taking those three seconds to come up with a seemingly simple answer, I think to myself: Isn't this bad? Isn't it bad that I don't know what or who I identify with? These thoughts circle around my head like annoying mosquitoes that you can't shake off.

By passport, I am American—born and raised. However, in terms of my ethnic and cultural background, I am half Iranian and half Guyanese.

Growing up in the United States meant that I was around classic American culture all the time: hot dogs, hamburgers, football, the YMCA the whole lot! Simultaneously, I was being indulged into Iranian culture with my mom and relatives. Nowrooz (Persian New Year) was a celebration we held every year without a doubt, traditional food like "Kabob Koobideh", different stews known as "khoresht" and rice dishes known as "polo." These are foods that I cannot live without today, these are spices I reach for, and the flavors I crave.

I have not learned or indulged in Guyanese culture at all actually, therefore, that part of me is completely unknown and almost feels missing. I believe that this unknown has made it difficult for me to accept that I am a woman of color. As I have always been around predominantly white and middle eastern communities, I was barely faced with the fact that I am indeed a bi-racial individual. Luckily, through my journey of self acceptance and worth, I have come to slowly embrace my skin color and who I am on the outside. However, would I say identify with black women? No. But, would I say I'm middle eastern instead? Not at all. So again, I find myself struggling to fit myself in the right box which is a metaphor for these communities for me. This begs the question: Do I need to fit in a box at all?

When I was nine-years-old I moved to Doha, Qatar with my family. It felt like the best five years of my life. Doha really felt like home to me simply because I was surrounded by people from literally everywhere. I had friends who were born in Singapore but were Swedish-Australian living in Doha. I felt like I wasn't the only one. In those moments I finally realized that that is what I identified with—that is why I felt so at home. I felt like I didn't need to fit in a box, because no one else fit in a box either and that was important to me. Everyone else had the same response to the question "Where are you from?" and everyone else had a hard time giving simple answer.

After moving to Luxembourg in 2014, I realized that there were less and less people like me. I barely felt connected to anyone like I did in Doha. As a matter of fact, I remember being the only woman of color in my class. Although, on the streets of Luxembourg I was often mistaken for someone from Cape Verde or Brazil. It really confused me in terms of what I thought of myself—at first. But again, the thought that perhaps I didn’t need to fit in any box and my identity is what I make it often circled around my head. Identity is not what anybody perceives me as or what society considers me as.

Fast forward to 2018, I moved to Amsterdam. This city is big, bold, charming and very multi-cultural. Once I was able to set up a home of my own, and incorporate traditions and values of my own, I realized that whether I like it or not where I’ve travelled and lived has had an impact on me. Whether I like it or not, where I was born and raised has an impact on who I am as a person. Likewise with the cultures and traditions that I grew up with. As an independent individual, it is up to me to create my own personal culture by holding on to the “bits and bobs” (British phrase I picked up...) of everything that has made me who I am today. If anything, I feel so blessed to have experienced so much in so little time. It has made me a more open, accepting and enriched individual and that is not something anyone can take away from me.