I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the
concept of being a global citizen. I suppose it makes sense that I would do,
given that I’m currently living in a country that’s not my own, and I haven’t
been an active citizen in my homeland for 17 months now.
When I left the UK, I didn’t know how long
I’d be going for. Not really. I didn’t know what was going to happen, what I
was going to find, or how I was going to feel, about anything. I was (still am) very closely attached to the people I
love, and I think if I had not had someone influencing me to do it (my partner)
I might never have left the UK for longer than a holiday. But I would have
always retained this sense of, ‘well, I would like to travel.’ It was that intangible feeling which helped me to
decide to go in the end. This curiosity about what was outside of my door; the
idea that life could be lived very differently to how I was living it. Not that
I had a problem with how I was living it, not at all, but I also didn’t feel
driven to do any of the things the people around me were doing (getting
married, having children, buying homes, having the faintest idea what kind of
career they were pursuing, that kind of thing) so the lack of any other
direction to aim toward pretty much left me with a bottom line of, ‘well, why not this?’
When we left for Vietnam I was excited, and
terrified, and those feelings didn’t leave me for the entire nine months we
were there. The intense pace of life, and the lack of opportunity for me to
procrastinate, defer to other people, or find excuses not to take chances,
forced me to grow. I don’t think I’ve fundamentally changed who I am or what
I’m about, but I feel that I’ve expanded on it in ways I never would have
expected and I’m not really sure whether I would have learned the lessons I
have done had I not left in the way that I did or lived in the manner that I
have since. Or maybe I would have done, but maybe it would have taken me
another ten years or more to do so, and I do feel it’s past time that I apply
some of what I’ve learned to how I want my life to be. I want to run with this
idea of actually making some kind of plan for what I want to happen, within the
context of life not being perfect and with an understanding that you can’t
always get what you want, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ever try to work
toward the things that will fulfil you as a person. I know I’m years behind
most people in getting to this kind of thinking, but I’ve always been a little
slow on the uptake!
I guess my reticence to settle if I wasn’t
sure it’s what I wanted, combined with not actually pushing myself to think
about what I wanted, has been a mixed blessing in the truest sense. It’s meant
that I’ve spent a lot of time not working toward things I want, and putting
other’s priorities first, but it also meant I didn’t have a mortgage tying me
down when it came time to up-sticks and skedaddle. But bigger than all of this
personal development stuff, I feel that I’ve developed a better understanding
of people in general, and the world at large. What I have witnessed, through
those I’ve met along the way, is snapshots of peoples’ lives. I’ve met people
at the start of a new journey, in the middle of one, or at the end of one. I’ve
met people from home who never want to go back, and those that wish they’d
never left. I’ve met people who have nothing and work harder than I ever have
done or likely ever will do, and people who have had everything handed to them
and don’t even seem aware of it. From all of this influence, I’ve learned one
thing that feels like a truth: we all have so much in common. No matter what
language we speak, who our parents are, where we come from or what job we do,
we all yearn, we all love, we all cry, we all laugh, we all hate, we all fear,
we are so similar, it’s ridiculous.
The bits where we clash and disagree and see the world from completely opposing
view-points, they’re interesting, and relevant, but sometimes we focus so much
on the difference that we don’t see the shared connection of human experience
staring us right the face.
If you’ve watched any news of been on the
internet at all recently, you will have noticed that the UK voted to leave the
EU (the annoyingly titled Brexit referendum) I’m not going to get too political
on you, because there is no faster way to alienate a readership than by getting
all tub-thumpy (politics being just too personal to be balanced about) But the
reason I mention it is because it ties into my feelings regarding living abroad
at the moment, and the consequences of it will have a direct impact on me, my
family, my friends and the world at large. I’m actually still somewhat in shock
at the outcome, and I can’t quite believe that a decision this big has taken
place during my lifetime. The fallout of this vote will have ripples that will
last decades (at least), and my being on the other side of the planet while
it’s happening is both a relief (in some ways) and makes me feel impotent and
disloyal (in others). I know you might be thinking, typical imperialist
attitude, assuming that what happens in Europe will affect the rest of the
world. But to think it won’t is to completely misunderstand how interconnected
the world has become. For every country at the moment, there are so many things
happening from an internal perspective, in some cases very terrifying and
damaging things that incite fear and anger, that it’s very hard to look outside
of our doors and see the bigger picture. The bigger picture being that ALL of these
world events matter, and they affect all of us eventually, regardless of where
we live.
So recent events have pushed my thinking on
to something I really feel needs to be said, the life I am currently living,
has only been made possible through
the concept of immigration, the idea that a person can live and work in a
country they were not born into.
New Zealand is a country comprised of
immigrants. People from all cultures, races, colours and religions live side by
side here. Even the Kiwis mostly all hark from Europe or the rest of the world
originally, the only native race here being the Māori. This chaotic genetic
pot isn’t a point of contention here though, it’s a point of connection. Through
my being here now and living in Vietnam before, I no longer only feel part of a
British community, or a European community, but a teeny, tiny part of a much
bigger whole. That feeling is derived from the connections I’ve made in the
places I’ve been to. I look at the world as a whole and see my part in it, all
of our parts in it, and our responsibilities as part of it. Our difference is
what makes the world interesting, but it is our similarities that should be
pulling us together. We need to be moving closer, not further apart.
Just like all the other stuff I didn’t know
about myself before I left, I didn’t know how I felt about my homeland, or my
cultural identity. Recently I’ve been saying to people that I really do feel
British, because it is only when you’re living in a culture that’s not your own
that you feel the intrinsic otherness that’s at the core of who you are. I
didn’t feel it as much in Vietnam, but I think that’s because the difference
was more obvious, so I didn’t associate how I was with being British, I put it
down to being from a westernised country. Now that I’m living in a westernised
country, I realise that many of those differences aren’t all born from economic
or social difference, so much as culture. I’m a Brit, I’m not a Kiwi, and those
definitions are more complex than merely a change in accent. But this whole
Brexit thing has made me reconsider the concept of my Britishness, because what
exactly does it mean to be British?
Most people in the UK are immigrants, you
just need to go back a lot further in some cases to find proof of this. Looking
at my colouring and physical build I don't think I have much Celtic ancestry in
me, at best I’m descended from the Saxons, if not some mongrel mix of them,
Normans and Romans. However you break it down, I'm not a native. Should I then
complete a complex family tree, in order to find out exactly where I came from?
Without doing so, how I can I truly know who I am or where I belong? Say if we
hypothetically and arbitrarily decided that your family has had to have lived
in the UK for four generations, or whatever, in order to class themselves as
‘British’, if you do that, most families of Asian or European descent living there
would also qualify. The more you think about this concept of belonging, the
more it starts to fall apart. Until this point, the four freedoms allowed
through being part of the EU, free movement of goods, capital, services and
people has meant that Brits can go and work in other member countries without
the need of a visa and it has allowed us to import and export without worrying
about various taxes and restrictions, amongst about a billion other perks. What
happens now that the UK has to leave the single market party?
Am I British? Am I English? Am I from the
Midlands because I was born there and lived there for 18 years, or can I now
class myself as being from Yorkshire because I spent all of my adult life there
and it’s the place that feels most like home to me? Is belonging a right? What
if I decided I wanted to move to NZ permanently, does a piece of paper or a new
passport change who I am and what I’m about?
It’s at about this point that it all breaks
down into being complete nonsense.
We are all, each of us, a product of
everything we have ever been and whatever we choose to be right now. I can’t
tell you where I belong, I can only tell you what I feel connected to. I feel
connected to that town in Yorkshire where my friends live, I feel connected to
the village I grew up in, I feel connected to that little place in Wales where
I spent all of my childhood summers, I feel connected to Saigon, that super
charged, super-heated city that challenged me to the core, I feel connected to
Wellington where I live now, I feel connected to Christchurch and Amsterdam and
Paris… I feel connected because I am
connected. The places that define us, that affect us, aren’t dictated by that
little book we are told is proof of our identity. The people we love don’t have
to be, and often aren’t, sat in the room next to us all of the time. My heart
stretches across oceans now, and you’d literally have to tear my personality
apart to separate me emotionally and idealistically from the people and places
that went into creating that.
So this is where my head is at right now: I
exist in the here and now but I don’t belong anywhere, and nowhere belongs to
me.
I’m a global citizen, and I’d be gutted if
somebody was able to stop me from living and being in another country, when I
know that I’ll work hard for my right to be there, and I’ll engage with and
respect whatever culture surrounds me. It saddens me to think that other Brits
might not be able to do the same with as much freedom in the future, and on the
flip side, that we as a nation might end up isolating ourselves and preventing
others from coming into the UK and doing the same. You don’t realise how highly
your homeland is thought of until you leave it. And the UK is very well thought
of. Or it was. Perceptions do change, and they already are changing. Maybe this
will be a time of hardship and learning, just like the last 17 months have been
for me, and the country will emerge stronger than ever. Or maybe it won’t.
Whatever happens next, people in the UK need to really think about what they
want out of their lives right now and for the foreseeable future. Stay and fight
for new rights or freedoms in the wake of these events, or leave and find a
place that better fits with who they want to be.
Either way is valid, as long as it’s the
choice that’s right for them. For me, I didn’t run away from my life, I just
went to live it elsewhere for a bit, and I’m grateful every day that I came
from a country that allowed me that freedom. Am I proud to be British? I was,
yeah, but now I think I’m just proud of the people I love who are British, and
all the people I love who aren’t. I’m proud of people, ideas, and actions I
believe in. I didn’t swear allegiance to a flag, or a piece of land, I am my
connections, I am my difference, and at the same time I’m proud of the
similarities I share with the rest of this beautiful, terrible, wonderful mess
of a world. I want to be a part of making that world a better place to be in.
Not one country, nor one cultural identity. We’re in this together, when all is
said and done, unavoidably, inescapably, innately, together.
I’m not a global citizen just because I put
my first world travelling shoes on and decided to work abroad for a bit. Doing
that simply opened my eyes to what was already a fact: we’re ALL global
citizens. We can’t just decide we aren’t a part of the world any more than we
can opt out of the human race. Do you remember when you were a kid and you
wrote out your address, and at the end you put ‘the World’? You stopped doing
it because it’s silly and the postal service doesn’t need this information when
delivering your mail, because you’re clearly, obviously, on the planet and a
part of the world.
Clearly, obviously, a part of the world.
When did we start to forget that?
I genuinely feel that now is a time when we
need to remember this and think about the idea of being part of the bigger
whole, and to not feel trapped or obligated by any restrictions other than
that. I’m a global citizen, you’re a global citizen, and the world is changing,
fast. So I guess my question has
really become, not who am I, but, who are we, and what do we do next?
C xx
C xx
Absolutely beautiful xx
ReplyDeleteThank you Alex, and thank you for reading it xx
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