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[mzambitious]

Then there were two of us... 🇳🇬🇺🇸 #NigerianAmericans #DualCitizens #aNigerianAmericanLoveStory https://www.instagram.com/p/B08TCn2gTY8/?igshid=akqcb4j0a2dr

[morungamigration-blog]

#dualcitizens #MorungaMigration #Adelaide

[endyedesonnews]

Austrian court disqualifies deputy PM. #edesonworldnews #australia #australian #australianshepherd #citizenshipceremony #citizenship #dualcitizen #dualcitizenship #dualcitizens #dualcitizenshipproblems #court #courts

[shaisphynx]

Turkey dinner at #shaisphynx ! Most of our kids will become American citizens so it's only fitting they share their first thanksgiving together 🍗 #turkey #grainfree #canadianmade #sphynx #happythanksgiving #dualcitizens #catvideo

[marksmasressays]

Essay 207 - A Multicultural Article

How to summarize

Life spent between two worlds

One mind, two cultures

Today I received a Facebook message from an old classmate of mine who is now a lecturer at a university here in Egypt. She's publishing a monthly magazine for her undergraduates aimed at promoting diversity and understanding amongst the people of the world, and she asked me to write a piece about the human aspects of my country. I replied and told her I was both Italian and American, and so she asked me to go ahead and write about my experiences. So, for today's essay, here are my thoughts on being a dual citizen and growing up multicultural, as it were. Enjoy!

The Same, But Different

It was on a cold winter night in Colorado that I first realized how small the world is. I was around ten years old, and was spending that night at a friend's house. A few hours after sunset, my friend and I joined a group of neighborhood kids playing a game called “Kick-The-Can” in the cul-de-sac where he lived. In Kick-The-Can, one kid is designated as "It" (the person who can put people in jail) and every other kid must try to not get tagged and put in jail. Once someone is in jail, an empty paint can is set near the jail. The person who is "It" guards the can, for if anyone can run up without being tagged and kick the can over, one person is released from jail. We would all try to free our friends, but usually got locked up ourselves till the game ended. I remember playing the game around nine in the evening, my usual bedtime during the school week. So, as a ten year old, it was truly exciting to stay up so late on a Friday, the first night of the weekend. It was a cloudy night, and as I was waiting in jail I remember looking up as the clouds parted to reveal the stars. I could see great big purple and green clusters of stars, and the dust of the Milky Way shivered in the cold air. That was the first time I realized the world was small.   

I may not have realized what a small world we live on when I was younger, but I definitely treated the world as if distances were minor inconveniences. Every summer as a child, my family would go visit my father's family in northern Italy, while during the winter we would visit my mother's family in California in the United States. I would spend part of the summer with my Italian family then join my father, an archaeologist, on trips to excavate an ancient Greek city. My father's friends were a mixture of Italians and American. Both young students and middle-aged adventurers loved joining my father on his trips. I found myself speaking English with them often but always felt deep down that I was Italian. Especially when I ate gelato (a rich ice cream) or sat at my grandparents' table, listening to them relate family histories or proverbs in their thick Italian dialect. In all of my conversations with Italian family and friends, the focus always boiled down to how simpatico (kind or likeable) someone was, no matter their faults. Italians just tended to give friendliness freely, if you're character was good and you were friendly to them in return. So I decided to always carry that warmth towards others with me, as best as I could.

Every Christmas as a child my family would visit my mother's parents in La Mesa, California. The weather would be warm, and sometimes we would even swim in my grandparents' pool. My grandfather used to take me to visit his coffee group, a meeting of some of his elderly friends and acquaintances at a mall. This group of elderly Americans used to regale me with histories of La Mesa and bits of wisdom. Though these Americans came from such different backgrounds - rich and poor, long-rooted Americans and first time immigrants - time made them equal in spirit. They had all been self-reliant, seeing and achieving so much in their lifetimes, and were now happy to just socialize together. I resolved to adopt their eagerness for conversation and their genuine interest in new information for my own.

As a dual citizen, you never really feel like a full citizen of either country. You're always aware that you're a citizen of both countries simultaneously, knowing that two long and different histories and cultures come together in you. In a way, you have to accept that your identity is a mixture of the two. When I first meet people very different than me, I compare myself with them, like all people do. But knowing that I am a mix of two cultures makes me remember at that moment how similar people are regardless of their backgrounds. I remember that the lucky randomness of my birth gave me certain advantages and disadvantages, just like it did to that person of a different color, religion, or age. And I remember that our differences should not separate us from finding in others our shared humanity. I remember we are all the same, just different in some ways, but not all ways.

MWV 4/15/13