Tag Archives: Third Culture

The TCK’s True Family

I believe that at this point, it can be fairly well agreed upon that Third Culture Kids who have been constant country hoppers have a problem with family. I use the word problem lightly, of course, because the truth of the matter is that our disconnection with our families isn’t a problem, but simply a trade we were forced to make to have the experiences that were handed to us. Despite all that, the end result is always the same: TCKs have been forced to distance themselves from establishing relationships with people they are supposed to trust.

Like I said in Foreign People, we were never really given the opportunity to connect to our family. A couple days a year, even a couple weeks a year for those longer trips back to our parent’s passport countries, is never enough to establish that sort of tight-knit family bond I keep hearing about. When people say to me “my family is the most important thing in my life,” it makes me let out a little mental laugh. Of course, they never know I’m reacting that way, and I usually mask it by saying “I know what you mean,” but the truth is I really don’t have a clue. I’m oblivious, because my family has never been a staple part of my life. In fact, they really are the most distant parts of my regularly occurring life.

The reason for this is that when TCKs hop around the world, they usually end up in places where there are other TCKs with them. If I’ve noticed anything in my life, nobody forms bonds better than Third Culture Kids. The bounds of social situations that exist so clearly in First Culture societies are completely nonexistent in TCK worlds. Where an American school in the United States has the geeks, the losers, the popular kids, the theatre kids, the band kids, the cheerleaders, the football players, the jocks, the pot heads, the science geeks, the honors club, the over achievers, the under achievers, the bullies, the bullied, the goths, the emo kids, and every other type of defining separation, TCK schools just have kids.

From ASP to HKIS, I never once felt like there was a separation between any of us students. Some of us were assholes. Some of us were quiet. Some of us didn’t get close and some of us wouldn’t let go of each other. Some of us had huge welcoming hearts and some of us couldn’t care less. But the truth is, we were all aware that we were all so similar that, despite the fact that some of us didn’t get along and that we may feel drastically different regarding certain situations, we were all in it together. And the “it” that we were all in wasn’t just a day at school or a field trip to a museum. It was the full, all encompassing aspect of our lives. We were all thousands of miles away from what had once been home, and now was simply a land full of strangers like the one we lived in at the time.

What that did to us was pull us together. We bonded in ways that kids in a First Culture Kid community never would. Things that made us different, things that would make FCKs run away from each other or hate one another instead drew us together. We wanted to learn the differences between us, embrace how we were uniquely different from all the other kids all over the world that didn’t know what we knew. We learned to love one another not despite our differences, but because of them. We learned that multi-cultural viewpoints and different perspectives were not something to be feared, but something to embrace. By using each other, we learned that multiple minds were better than one. And in the end, we understood each other so well that there wasn’t a team on the planet that could work together better than us.

What was so strange about this is that, for the most part, TCKs are natural leaders. We would walk into a room and every single one of us would have a presence that’s only met by a collection of CEOs. We are commanding, we understand things on such an incredibly broad level but at exactly the same time see all the little cogs that build our entire product. We can explain things so amazingly well and motivate people with the passion of a king or queen. We are leaders, thinkers, and doers. And yet, unlike most leaders, when paired with another TCK we are made stronger, not weaker. There is never a conflict, never a butting of heads or a pissing contest to see who’s stronger or smarter. There’s just harmony. Complete and total harmony with the most blissful balance of collaboration and achievement. It’s absolutely glorious, and it has been too long since I have seen it in action.

Why then do TCKs have the ability to work together where other leaders would never have the ability? Because we were built to coexist. In learning that we were never going to fit in anywhere in the world again, we built our own country. In finding out that we were never going to be understood ever again in our lives, we built our own support group. And in knowing that we would never again see the world like everyone else, we stared at each other and understood that we at least had each other. And out of that mess, out of the chaos of losing everything every other normal person clings to in order to define themselves, we decided to define ourselves by the way we impact the world. And in doing so, we created the strongest family that no one else would ever understand.

We created the Third Culture Kid community.

And no matter where we go, no matter who we run into, if we ever meet another TCK, we will smile and know that we have just met a family member we never knew existed. And without saying a word, we will both understand exactly what that means.

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Post by: James R. Mitchener

A Skipping Stone

I have this problem where I can’t seem to stop hopping across the pond. Well, I call it a problem, but it’s not really a problem, more of a habit. Well, it’s not really a habit, more of an addiction. I can’t help it, I just like to travel. And we’re not talking about getting in a car in Houston, Texas and driving down one road for 200 miles until I hit San Antonio, then veering North for another hour until I hit Austin. We’re talking world travel. You know, that thing that involves the giant metal sardine can that piles in people, their bags, and sometimes their pets and sends them soaring into the sky at 400-500mph across a giant body of water or an entire continent until you land somewhere completely different several drinks and bad movies later.

I’m bringing this up because I’m going back to England in a month. I was going to go look for a job there, you know, one of those permanent ones where I go to an office and do the same thing every day for the rest of my life? One of those. It kills me just to think about being stuck like that, but sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. Plus, what with the riots going on there right now I’m sure I’ll get hazard pay for working in London. That place is like a third world country right now. That’s also part of why it’s so alluring to me right now. Other reasons involve the fact that I’ve never spent much time with any of my family as I grew up, primarily because they lived in one country and I lived in 15 different ones. Another reason would be that I’m in love with an English girl, but that’s a whole different story for a whole different life.

So I’m hopping the pond. I do it a lot, really. Well, as often as I can. A lot is a matter of reference, and seeing as I technically don’t have a job and just travel and help SMBs or write content or book travel or create marketing strategies when there’s work to be done, I travel a lot for me. I miss it when I don’t. It comes over me like an illness, or better yet, like a man kicking an addiction or habit. I recently quit smoking (2 weeks today), so I know the feeling of shaking an addiction-habit very well. If I don’t travel, I go through these steps:

1) I start to get antsy. I feel like a prisoner to my home (one of the best things about not having a home is when this step comes up I can just switch locations). I need to get out, to go somewhere, to just drive my car in any direction and go. And usually I do. It puts the feeling at bay for a while, but it always comes back later, stronger and more commanding than the time before.

2) I get mad. Really mad. I start hating the country I’m in, I hate my house, I find reasons to hate my friends. Sometimes I even hate Rogue, my beautiful Corgi-Lab mix. Of course, that doesn’t last long. But the rest of it does, and it bleeds into my life, telling me I hate my job and that the grass is so much greener somewhere else. I actually start to believe that if I were to just drop it all and get on a plane everything would be fine. That’s why I got Rogue, actually. She stops me leaving.

3) I get depressed. Unbelievably depressed to the point that I think everything is hopeless. I’ll never get to travel again, I’ll never make enough money to have the life I want, I start believing I’m valueless and that it’s impossible for me to achieve the life I used to have as a kid. Of course, none of this is true, I travel all the time, having published works has proven I’m a strong writer, and happy clients proves I am good at my roles as an online marketing consultant.

4) I go. This is the kicker. I always end up going. Somehow, I end up hopping on a plane and crossing the pond for no apparent reason. Mostly it is to England, and a big part of that is family and romance, but I always end up going. And when I’m there, it really does take every single inch of self control to get back on that plane and come back to America. The hardest part, every single time, is leaving.

And that’s why I travel. Sure, I do it because I want to. I do it because I love to. But honestly, deep down in the core of my existence where the little ideas that drive us to live the lives we lead, I have a tiny little man constantly whispering “Isn’t it time you went somewhere else, James?” And in all my life, I’ve never been able to ignore him. Of course, if I could, why would I ever want to?

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Post by: James R. Mitchener