As I am sitting on my bed in my room I hear the most beautiful music outside. I look outside and across the street there is a small church. The music sounds beautiful, not because their voices are extraordinary, but because they sound free. The bongos are playing and everyone is singing in their native language. Their voices tell a story, I can feel that their voices bring them all back to another place or time in their life, feeling right at home when their voices are mixing together.
All of the sudden I feel a giant loss; my heart aches. I try to shake the feelings and go back to looking at my mindless Facebook feed, but then I hear the music playing again. What I felt was a longing, a longing for culture. I wanted immediate acceptance solely based on the fact that I came from the same place and was of the same people group. I wanted the traditions, and their unshakeable communities.
Everybody knows America is a melting pot. Some people have recently come to America, others have been here for years, mixing with other cultures. I happen to be a product of a lot of mixing. My Dad would always call my siblings and me mutts. He would kindly follow it up by saying any dog he has ever had has been a mutt and they were the best dogs to have. We are Japanese, Italian, French, British, Scottish, German, Scandinavian and possibly Native American (that one is always questionable). In my life I always felt like my culture was so close to me, just within my grasp, but always right out of reach.
My father’s mother was 100 percent Japanese. She was born and raised in Yokosuka, Japan and came over to the states after she married my American, German, Scandinavian grandfather who was stationed in Japan during the Korean War. My maternal grandmother is 100 percent Italian and maternal grandfather is British, Scottish, French and the mystery Native American.
Growing up I did not know my father's side at all. Now more than ever I feel like that is affecting me because both of my grandparents are gone. It affects me because it makes me question my identity. There was an entire culture that I never got to know or experience. The worst part is that it is who I am. I carry those nationalities but I know nothing of them. We didn’t get to share a language, or take a trip back to the motherland where she grew up. There were no traditions shared, or stories passed on. All I have is a few memories of before my grandparents died and their blood pumping through my veins.
Likewise my mother’s side is also very rich in culture. Her mother is 100 percent Italian. My mom used to tell me how when she was younger every Sunday they would have dinner at her grandmother's. She said her grandmother would make the most amazing Italian dinners. She would feed them till they were bursting and still say, “Mangia mangia” which means eat, eat in Italian.
It was always disappointing how close my culture was to me but I never got to experience it, I could never wear it as my own. Being multi ethnic is hard because I hold the titles of what I am, but it only goes that deep. Which makes other people feel like they can tell me what I am. “You are just white,” “you don’t look Asian,” “You don’t speak Italian.” You aren’t enough of this or that to be included with us.
On the other hand, I recently read a post somewhere about a man explaining his experience coming to America. He explained how some people claimed that he and his fellow Koreans had been called cold and exclusive. He slightly agreed with them, he said his community is very tight knit. He said they weren’t acting that way to be mean, but to survive. When someone comes over to America from their country they have to start up businesses and learn the language and they need every bit of help they can get from each other to make it.
I love that. They know that they need each other to survive and they thrive off of their community. Some people might say, “You want the culture but you don’t want the negative aspects that come with it.” In my opinion there will be negativity whether one has culture or not. There will always be hardship. The good thing about culture is no matter what someone goes through, they get through it together. I find that people who have been in America for a very long time get this harsh mentality of “looking out for number one,” or “be willing to step on whoever to get to the top."
We have it backwards here. I wonder how much further we could go if we would lean on one another in the hard times. Be there for that friend as they try to get their business off the ground. Sometimes I feel as Americans we are only willing to help people as long as it doesn’t require too much of us, if it doesn’t inconvenience us, if it doesn’t mess with our busy schedule. People who come from a lot of culture, they treat each other like family, and they don’t have to have the same last name to qualify.
At the end of the day I can’t change who I am. I can’t become more of something I’m not, I can only work with what I have. I can try to spread the importance of community. I can help someone who’s struggling regardless of who I am to them. A part of me will always be interested and curious about the culture I never knew. A bigger part of me will use my crazy heritage as a means of connection to others who feel similarly to myself.
