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The Journey of Discovering Myself as Your Typical Eastern European Mother

Stereotypes are real and I love them!

By Bobe HadjievaPublished 4 years ago 4 min read
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A good friend of mine once said “stereotypes are real and I love them”. At first I couldn’t help but laugh, because she said it with such passion and conviction, but the more I thought about it, the more I found the strangely profound truth behind this statement. As much as we try to dismiss prejudices as xenophobic poppycock, I can’t deny that some stereotypes have occasionally jumped out and smacked me in the face when I least expected.

Perhaps the best example of such moments are stereotypes of my own culture. I like to pride myself as a bit of a 21st century nomad, a culturally confused lady, a citizen of the world. Although I was born in Bulgarian, I spent my teenage years in Northern Ireland, and when I turned 18 I moved to the Netherlands to begin my bachelor studies. I know that there are people who have moved about much more than I have, but it’s also undeniable that I didn’t have the luxury of growing up in one cultural, or linguistic, context.

Eventually I gave up on the idea that I am completely Bulgarian, or even British/Northern Irish, for that matter. I was just... confused. But don’t get me wrong, this confusion is something I definitely prefer. I love playing with people’s expectations of who I am based on what they think is my ‘nationality’. Having grown up in the age of “Hannah Montana” and “Wizards of Waverly Place”, I’ve also ended up with a typical American accent when I speak English. This never fails to throw strangers for a loop.

Ever since moving away from Bulgaria, I’ve found myself battling negative stereotypes about my country, or about Eastern Europe in general. Whether it was being called a Russian Communist, a member of the Mafia, or a KGB spy, it always impressed me how I was profiled along similar lines as your backstreet cigar-smoking gangsta, surrounded by his gang members, who toss around ominous, threateningly guttural, Slavic-sounding remarks. Sometimes my classmates’ profiling got so ridiculous, there was no way I couldn’t take it ironically. But these descriptions were always so far away from who I was. I almost thought that, if people conjured up only negative and violent connotations about my Bulgarian identity, I would have to shed it completely to allow myself to be seen as the person I ‘truly’ am, not this crooked stereotype about a country I no longer live in.

And what happened when I took the Bulgarian out of me? I ended up finding it in myself, after all. No, I’m not a Mafia member or a Russian spy (though be warned, that’s exactly what someone who is a spy is likely to say!). I’m your overbearing, overprotective mother figure! How do I know this? In many circumstances I find that my instincts align much more with my family role models than the society I happen to live in.

The women in my family are very similar to what you would expect of Eastern European ladies. Every time I call my aunt she wants to make sure I am well fed by asking me what I‘m having for dinner. My mum sends me back to the Netherlands with homegrown yoghurt cultures she got from Bulgaria, because in the West they just don’t make it like they do at home (which, by the way, is 100% fact!). Even the stereotype that Eastern European women always get dressed up is true, as my aunt will tell you when she jokes about my grandma wearing her pearl jewellery when cooking and cleaning.

Living abroad has made me realise that most things you hear about British and Dutch people are true. British politeness gives you a very warm and welcoming first impression, especially when chatting to the friendly sales assistant over the counter. Dutch directness can be a scary slap in the face when you’re the clueless expat in the middle of the bike path, dodging angry bikers, flying in out of nowhere.

As a self-proclaimed citizen of the world, I’d like to think I’ve picked up a healthy dose of the societal traits from the countries I’ve lived in. But in the midst of trying to extend my politeness beyond superficiality and use directness in constructive and helpful manner, I still find the desire to be your mother away-from-home. I want to wrap you in a warm blanket, feed you some homemade soup, and sing you lullabies in a hard-sounding Slavic language, that you have no hope of understanding.

Looking back at my friend’s remark, I realise how right she was. Stereotypes are real and I do love them. The best thing you can always do is lean into them. I may not be your stealing, murderous Eastern European thug that my classmates had thought I was, but I am your motherly figure who wants to spoil and take care of you until you’re well in your 30s, and should probably move out of the house and find a job.

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About the Creator

Bobe Hadjieva

A culturally-confused, sic-fi/fantasy nerd, with an over-active imagination and a passion for writing.

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