What is “nationality”? It’s a question I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.
From the late nineteenth century, up to the mid-twentieth, my ancestors came to the United States. For most of them, I imagine it was a decision inspired by the hope of a better life, whether that was because of the things they’d heard about “the promised land”, or simply because it meant that they would be able to be by the side of someone they loved who had already fallen in love with America. Most of them tried hard to be as “American” as possible – even though they clung to so much from their past; I’ve learned firsthand that cuisine and language are two of the hardest things to give up. They worked to provide for children who understood them when they spoke, but who were told to only learn English, so that they could be true Americans.
When I think of it that way, I can’t say my being born in the U.S. is a total accident. It was a way that was prepared for me. But growing up, I never felt particularly American. Or particularly anything for that matter.
There’s a novella called “The Man Without a Country”. The minute I heard the title, it struck a chord with me. I have a basic idea of what the story’s about, though I have to admit, it sits on my bookshelf, waiting to be read. But that title sums up so much about my own life. I don’t hate America, even though there are some things I really dislike about it. But there are also so many great things about my native country. Some, like a pretty decent degree of freedom compared to a lot of other places, I learned to appreciate early on. But I came to appreciate other things only by living abroad.
Before I moved to France, for example, I never truly understood the dynamism and open-mindedness that make up a key part of the American mindset. Some people reading this might scoff. Yeah, “open-mindedness” is a good word for a country where most states don’t allow certain people to marry, simply because of the gender of the consenting adult they love. “Open-mindedness” makes it okay for the mayor of New York to shut down an art exhibition because it includes a painting that’s considered blasphemous. But that’s not what I mean. The open-mindedness I’m talking about is the way you can put forth a project, some huge idea, like the Transcontinental Railroad, or a skyscraper, or building a mansion in seven days for a family in need, and though people might be skeptical, no one will just shut the project down before it even starts. Open-mindedness is allowing people to express their emotions. I don’t mean that every American is emotive, just that, if you are, that’s perfectly okay. It’s all right to be enthusiastic about something, or guffaw over something you think is funny, or cry during the national anthem.
If you’d asked me when I was younger if I could call myself American, I would have said probably not. But after having lived in France for a while, I realize more and more that, no matter what, some part of me has been so molded by the culture I grew up in that, yes, to some degree – maybe even to a great one – I am American. And that’s not so bad.
But I still don’t – and can’t – use that as a way to completely define myself. There’s some elusive part of me, a rather big part of me, that doesn’t feel like it’s a part of anything. I’m “a girl without a country”. Sometimes people meet me and say “You’re so French!” I’m never quite sure what they mean. I think they mean it nicely, most of the time, but now and then it makes me worry. I love my adopted country for its history and culture, for its appreciation of the eccentric and bizarre, for its offhanded acceptance of sexual preferences and curse words and other things that might be taboo in other places, I love France for the fact that you can take your dog with you just about anywhere, and for the fact that people generally seem to respect art. I love that there is so much vacation time here, and that it’s more or less expected that if a holiday falls on a Tuesday or Thursday, of course you’ll take that Monday or Friday off, too. I am a big believer in Socialized medicine and fresh baguettes for less than a euro. These are ways the French and I see eye to eye. But there are so many other instances where we’re looking in completely opposite directions. I don’t like the role women typically have here. I don’t like the lack of free public toilets and certain creature comforts – all explained by the French as unnecessary, even though if you dig more deeply, most admit they’d feel more comfortable with air conditioning, or toilets on suburban trains. This self-deprivation is baffling to me. I don’t like the French disgust for overtly expressed happiness or enthusiasm. I don’t like their poorly advertised television line-ups or fact that gum is so incredibly expensive, or how there’s so much cigarette smoke everywhere (Are the latter two linked? Hmm…).
I guess ultimately I’m about as “French” as I am “American” – that is to say, not not-at-all, but not entirely.
On my mother’s side, my Italian-American family is full of pride about their roots, like most Italian-Americans from the northeastern U.S. I grew up thinking Italians from Italy were friendly distant cousins, who’d be happy to welcome me back to the homeland. Cut to a few decades later, when I briefly worked for a small Italian movie company. One afternoon, while sitting down to our daily pasta lunch (really), several of my Italian co-workers started mocking how flashy and crude Italian-Americans seemed. This was the pre-Jersey Shore era, so there were no specific targets or examples; I realized this was just how these Italians thought of their “cousins”. As I started to travel in Italy, and to pay (a little) more attention to the international news, I also realized that, though they have many good qualities, Italian-Italians aren’t as perfect as Italian-Americans often picture them to be. Many are chauvinistic, vain, and hypocritically pious.
So I’m not Italian, either.
But recently, I found out that, actually, I am.
There’s an Italian law which states that, if an ancestor going as far back as the unification of Italy immigrated to America and never renounced his (Note: some restrictions apply for women ancestors) Italian citizenship, technically, by juris sanguinis, their descendants are all Italian, too, and would have dual American-Italian citizenship.
Learning this was a boon for me; if I’m European, I won’t have to worry about going through the complicated process of renewing my visa every year anymore, or of applying for French citizenship (which, like Italian citizenship, would allow me to also remain an American citizen). The only problem is, as with anything else involving government procedures, proving you’re Italian involves a lot of documentation, official stamps and translations, and quite a bit of money, too.
In the end, after looking into it more deeply, it’s probably easier and more practical for me to try to get French citizenship. It would also make my in-laws and boyfriend happy; they seemed sort of offended that I would prefer to be Italian rather than French. “It’s not that,” I told them, “it’s just that, being Italian is my birthright. I don’t have anything to prove: I’m Italian already.”
But deep down, there was more to it.
I’m a girl without a country, but if I founded a country of my own, one of its guiding principles would be to enjoy life as much as you can. Not at the expense of others or anything like that, but just be happy with life, and if you’re not happy, do what you need to, to make it better, always carrying hope within you. I’ve come to realize that this might just be qualified as “American”. I also believe that this mindset is fairly Italian, as well. Although we have our differences, Italian culture puts a lot of value on family, food, talk, and laughter. In this culture, I believe, over-emoting is not a problem. The French, on the other hand, don’t seem to have the same thought process. They have a pretty great country in just about every way I can think of, yet even they consider themselves complainers.
“It takes life to love life,” Edgar Lee Masters, one of my favorite poets, once wrote. If I had my own country, those words would be in its anthem. And so, becoming French is hard for me to conceive of. Which is quite stupid, since I live here, and love a Frenchman, and have French friends and in-laws, and work for a French company, and eat French food (well, most of the time), and watch French TV, and read French books and celebrity gossip magazines, and passionately love Paris and French history.
Getting French citizenship is practical, I tell myself. Nothing personal. That’s all I have to remember. According to the list of requirements for obtaining French nationality, being French mainly consists in speaking the language at at least an elementary school level, and knowing basic things about the country’s history and culture. In that sense, I could say to myself, I’ve been French for a while.
But still, it doesn’t feel completely right. Nationality is just a label, and not always one that fits the person it describes. And yet, a part of me is rebelling, even while another part of me reasons me right back to where I started: What is “nationality”, anyway?
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Comments
Lezlie
Perhaps you can have two definitions for nationality, one for bureaucrats and passports and another for how you define yourself to yourself.
Just to bring in another nationality, I think Shakespeare gave some good guidance for questions like these, "To thine own self be true".
I would imagine when you visit America, many folks here might view you as "French", and I imagine many French will always view you as "American". Maybe how they view you is more about their self image than anything about you.
had the gumption to live up to its principles.
I consider myself a wisp, a temporal/spatial event,
a damn oddity in this huge cosmos because i
have self-
consciousness,
a victim of a huge Joke in learning that this "self" is in no way
"real"....unless it is....
these are the questions i wonder about.
as i go about trying to "found" or "find" a "country"
of the soul
"of my own,
one of its guiding principles
to enjoy life as much as you can.
Not at the expense of others or anything like that,
but just be happy with life,
and if you’re not happy,
do what you need to, to make it better,
always carrying hope within you. "
We all need "higher purposes" to align ourselves to.
Alot,alot, of people find that in the so-called
"nation-state",
a relatively new invention...
started with that darn France...and England...
before that was loyalty to tribe,
before that,
to family...
before that?
the miracle of consciousness is utterly degraded
by aligning itself to anything.
except its own, and others', bliss............
Seth - Wow, I never thought about this issue on a planetary level! One day in the future, will someone be posting some intergalatic blog, wondering if they're really "an Earthling". Mind. Blown. As for what else you said, also very intelligent and thought-provoking. Thank you.
Sally - I love what you wrote about how you feel about Greece: "an 'I'm home' feeling, even though certain attitudes or habits get on my nerves" - so, so well put! And I also like what you wrote about America.
Deborah - "Thankfully, I live in a country that allows me to define myself, even if it doesn't understand or give credence to those definitions." That's a very good point!
Sarah - Thank you! ...Is it easy to get papers for that? :-)
steve - Very very interesting ideas here: "I would imagine when you visit America, many folks here might view you as "French", and I imagine many French will always view you as "American". Maybe how they view you is more about their self image than anything about you." I think you make a really interesting point....Going to think about this.
I'll leave you with one concept: Would you rather be a citizen of the world 0r, perhaps, a citizen with the rest, for whom the citizen of the world idea is not palatable?
Lately, I think a lot about being American and how so much of my fight is to regain any respect or trust in the country I thought I knew. I feel so hungry to regain the country that I thought followed laws and cared about justice and truth and all that. As it stands, I've totally fallen out of any love, or even like, with America. It feels very painful a loss.
Very interesting essay, much to ponder here. I believe it might finally inspire me to post about this huge struggle I'm having with wanting to leave the country, that I used to think was a good or even great one. Thanks for that, I think.
You strike me as American in that you are optimistic and friendly. I doubt you'll ever lose those good American traits.
but I'm not opposed to
Earthling.
Love this piece, Alysa-
it's so Open-Hearted.
To say I feel "defined" by my nationality would be an extreme way to express it.
As for you, I can understand your mixed feelings. Changing citizenship is a really permanent thing. No advice, just hopes for a peaceful resolution of your dilemma.
Matt – I think you take a very practical approach – well, except for listening to your heart at the end of your comment – and that’s how I wish I could go about this whole thing!
Stim – Aha! Then I’m American, 100%! Whew, that ended up being easier than I thought! : -)
STATHI STATHI – I love those moments when we transcend language and just communicate with one another in some basic way. Your comment reminds me that really the concept of nationality is just a government construct. Thank you for that.
inthisdeepcalm – Citizen of the world is more for me. I just wish that would give me a passport and the legal right to live anywhere I chose. Sigh…
fernsy – Your comment is so intriguing. I really want to read that post. And it’s interesting that while all that’s happened to you is associated with this country’s legal system, you seem to still love the American character – which you seem to very much have within you, too. Good luck to you in making this big decision you’re contemplating. I wish I had advice for you, but even if I did, I’d feel silly giving it; you’re obviously a thoughtful, wise soul, and I know that you’ll make the right decision. That’s how it seems to me.
Just Another AJ –Thank you. As I wrote to Seth’s comment, I can imagine one day in the distant future, some blogger obsessing over whether or not she can truly consider herself an “Earthling”, when, say, she’s so much more comfortable in some distant solar system… :- )
Eva – I’m glad you might qualify for Italian citizenship. I know it can be obtained, because a distant cousin of mine did it and I spoke to him about it recently – but it takes a lot of work and quite a bit of money. Still, in my opinion, very much worth it. I’m no expert on all this, but if you have any questions or if there’s any way I can help you, please let me know. Thanks also for your good wishes – and you make me realize I should have clarified something: whether I try for Italian or French citizenship, these would be dual citizenships, meaning I would still be American, as well. So at least that makes the decision a little less stressful! I’m going to modify my post a bit to include that.
" Do you consider yourself defined by your nationality?" would be a great open call.
fernsy - I didn't notice, which puts me in the same boat, I guess! And I agree, this could be a very cool open call - I'd love to see people write about their own experiences. You very much included.
I've been thinking about it. It would be something I could pass to my daughers in the event that someday we might want to leave this country.
Nice work. / r
I love reading your thoughts and your love of history, your fluidity in the lands you love but may not feel a total belonging to...I think might be common with travelers or those who have moved around more, like a piece of us stays with each place and a part of each home moves on with us.
Have you consulted with an ex-pat CPA? You might want to look into what the tax laws are because citizenship and taxes go together. While I do not earn income in the U.S., I must still file U.S. taxes. If you have dual citizenship, you may be in the same boat with the Italy ( assume you already pay income tax in France on your income earned there). Not sure what Italy requires, but I would check that out.
Feelings about nationality can turn into "Nationalism" which is something that quite often ends in war. You see your self as a citizen of the world (the opposite of nationalism). Nationality binds a group for better or worse.
what an absolutely great way to see the world. No boundaries. How cool is that? He said things about respecting women, too, which are yet sinking in, maybe some day will permeate the outer membranes in our heads, hearts ...
There are many strong points brought out here, one of which is that leaving is one thing, becoming a citizen of another country is not so smooth. I know that I could be taken in by the UK, as my grand parents were somehow connected with it. The one country that really champions writers, is Ireland -- when you bring out your best seller, instead of scorching you with hefty taxes, they allow you tax-free status. So write on and dream large my friends ...
Here's my take. As much as nationality may be defined as putting a label on one, I still feel myself (values, traditions, culture, language, etc) defined more as Turkish than Canadian. Although I lived only one fifth of my life in my native country. When I was younger I also entertained the same question - a lot. As I grew older, perhaps by virtue of never forgetting my mother tongue and values, as well as discriminating between mine and the North American ones I was exposed to, I realised on my own that no matter where I lived or for how long, I could - by choice - conform but not change .
Perhaps the question of nationality is more prevalent in countries where the population is more divergent and individuals seek their roots to understand their identity. In more homogeneous countries, I'm not so sure if this is so much of a concern. Canada and US are melting pots of many immigrants with various backgrounds, and I always found that fascinating.
To answer your question, I don't define myself by my nationality, but I feel more Turkish than Canadian, and bring that part of me more into my life style.
R♥
lost inclination for poetry in civil war.
decided to become a male nurse.
tended the victims of the civil war.
"We Americans have yet to really learn our own antecedents, and sort them, to unify them. They will be found ampler than has been supposed, and in widely different sources.." him
Christine – I think you’re right – we should think that way. I always wonder, though, how much of who we are has been formed by where we grew up? Then again, maybe none of it….
toritto – If you can, you really, really should do this. Although your daughters may have to apply separately if they’re over 18 (or maybe they could apply instead of you, since you as their father would be automatically considered Italian as well, since you’re in the line of descendants – that’s one of the things my family was wondering about and it seems hard to get a clear answer; the embassies seem to suggest every person needs to present all the documents, etc, while sites that claim to be from professional companies/ government resources say a family can apply together). Not only would it benefit your children, but it would, I believe, subsequently benefit their children! I know personally that my life would have been so much easier if I’d known about this earlier and could have worked on getting together the necessary documents and money over the years. Now, I feel like I’m running out of time, since I’d like to try to avoid my next scheduled visa renewal meeting. Really, if you can, I can’t encourage you enough to try to get your dual Italian citizenship! Good luck!
Just Thinking…. – Thank you for reading and for thinking – and what you wrote about people who travel, gives ME a lot of food for thought. Thank you for that.
jackie2 – What an interesting family history! And you’re right, it does go to show that maybe nationality really doesn’t mean much….
Kate – Thank you for this practical reminder about taxes. I pay income tax here in France and have been told that since the US only requires you to pay taxes of you earn a certain amount of money that my poor self will probably never be able to, I don’t have to file taxes – as long as if I return to work in America one day, I have documents (pay slips, French tax returns) that prove I didn’t earn a lot. As for Italy, I wouldn’t be living or working there and apparently you don’t have to pay taxes to them if you don’t do those things – a law that seems very logical to me; I was shocked to learn about the US tax policy!
inthisdeepcalm – I do love the idea of no borders, as well. It often makes me shake my head in anger or chuckle (depending on my mood) at how, less than a hundred years ago, it was fairly easy to come to France and stick around even if you weren’t French. And it was thanks to this that the Lost Generation were able to come together here and create some of the greatest works of literature and art of the 20th century.
Fusun – It’s great to hear from you. I miss reading you! Thank you for your comment. I have to say, I was hoping you’d stop by to give your take on this here. I’m not surprised by what you wrote, having read your posts and being a fan, but it’s nonetheless intriguing. I guess I don’t feel like I have one culture that dominates and makes me feel I belong. In many ways, I envy you that. Thanks again for commenting, and I hope to read something new by you soon!
Gerald – Well said.
James – You and Whitman are brilliant guys!