Identity

Until now I have avoided talking about certain matters on this blog. I guess I’ve been protective of the ones dear to me and honestly, of myself too. Yet I feel the need to vent something which will seem alien to most and perhaps familiar to some.
It is merely my version of the truth as I experience it so if people get offended then no harm meant.

One reason why I decided to make this post is a conversation I recently had with a Czech grad student who spoke openly about the difficulties he was experiencing as a European, or more precisely as a Czech, to feel comfortable living in another country. In this case the country being the United States.
Furthermore, since my current position at CMU will end at the end of August 2009 I have a big decision to make. Will I stay in this foreign country, will I venture to another foreign country, or do I go back to the so-called home country?

It’s been roughly 2 years and 8 months since I packed up everything I thought necessary to start all over in a different country. I arrived with only 3 bags, one of which contained a laptop.
I quickly noticed people (‘Americans’) liked to talk about everything except really personal stuff. In the time I’ve been here I have rarely spoken about my deeply European/Dutch identity. Basically when you move to another country you might get some surface questions about your origins but people expect you to fit in and to be in the here and now.

Obviously when starting all over one is looking for his own place in this new setting and tries to figure out his role. Eventually things will take form but for some that form might not be acceptable. Like for the Czech grad student I mentioned earlier. He is seriously considering quitting his position here and moving back to the Czech Republic and pick up his old job.

When I read Kundera’s “Ignorance” last year a lot of pieces of the puzzle fell into place and I immediately recognized so many details. The book is about two former lovers who leave Czechoslovakia and separately live in different countries for 20 years before returning and actually running into each other by chance.
The way Kundera describes the differences between the Czech who emigrated and the ‘natives’ of the country to which they fled is impeccable. Yes a person can fit in anywhere if he’s flexible enough but somehow the shoe never fits 100%.
The ‘natives’ do not show much affection or understanding for the lead characters' background and experiences. They assign them a role; put them in a category so the world makes sense again. Yet when the lead characters return to their ‘home land’ they feel estranged since their friends expect them to be the exact same person as when they had left. They are expected to perform the very same role they once had 20 years ago and basically leave those 20 years spent elsewhere behind. All the while their friends’ lives have continued the way they had been doing back then. Meaning that the lives of their friends largely remained the same throughout all those years. But the lead characters find it impossible to slip back in their former assigned roles.

Obviously all this is very recognizable for me. I’m not too sure about what role people here in Pittsburgh have assigned me other than being this obnoxious, goofy, blunt, wild Dutch person. That is probably the role I have been assigned to and am expected to behave as accordingly. When I actually act differently for a change, for instance at Matthias’ farewell party where I held a short farewell speech for him, people were surprised. Surprised that I showed a completely different side of myself. They liked the speech I gave but never took this as an opportunity to explore my identity further.
And honestly, why should they? People are mostly caught up in their own lives and reaching out simply IS hard.

I firmly believe that you leave parts of you everywhere you go. On each travel/move you leave something behind which cannot be returned. Your soul is fractioned.
Note that I don’t necessarily mean this in a negative way. Each of those ‘lost’ parts is held dearly to yourself and the experiences you gained whilst losing those parts can be very intense. Additionally, the longer you spent someplace the bigger the fraction of your soul is left behind when you move away from that place.
I sometimes use my CD collection as a metaphor when conversing with myself about this subject. Just like I had to leave most of my CD collection back in the Netherlands, I left a big chunk of what I am behind too.

Thinking back on those first few months here in Pittsburgh it’s not that strange that I was out of my element. I was looking for my place in this new town, this new country, this community, this new work environment.
The thing is that ever since I accepted my current job is that I never knew for how long this was going to be. It could have been just one year as it turned out for former colleague Niels who went back to Germany with his wife. It could have been 2 years had our project extension been rejected.

People like Stefan who was here for a preset time frame last year will experience all these things differently. They know that they’re here for a limited period of time and that they will go back to their ‘old’ life afterwards.
But what is my old life, do I still have any?
I’ve never been one to sulk and have burnt my fair share of bridges while always looking ahead. As such I know that no matter where I end up I will find a place and role which will fit me fairly well. Yet it is never an easy process. This is what I have tried to clarify with this lengthy post.

For whom it matters.