Home Is Where The Heart Is

Transplanted to the states at age 3, I grew up in Boston, part of a large immigrant family, but away from any Caribbean communities. Lack of a communal Caribbean influence meant that owed my syntax to my mum but my accent to my schoolmates. My values, my food, and my educational ethic however -- were straight-up Trini. This made for a limbo existence where other West Indians called me "Yankee" and black americans made fun of my "sounding white." It also meant both similarities and disconnects in cultural history.

It was weird to be caught between worlds, fitting fully into none. I went back to the West Indies for two years of high school, but for all intents and purposes -- I grew up American. If transported to T'dad tomorrow, not sure it'd feel like home. Ultimately I took US citizenship, married an American, and have brought my kids up in suburbia. My oldest goes out of her way to proclaim herself "1/2" and she wants me to claim dual citizenship so that she can have citizenship through me -- but I'm just not sure. Home is where the heart is -- and I think mine may now be here. . .
Colormevibrant Colormevibrant
46-50, F
1 Response Jul 31, 2010

You have taken what you want from mother and friends and created You!
A lovely person with a great mind!