Faut-il se sentir étranger pour être soi-même ? Car l’étranger ne joue pas la comédie, Meursault ne sur-joue ses émotions
Prologue : Qui suis-je ?
One of the essential questions in life is actually the name of a psychology test [link in French]. As for me, I can only write down few of the first category of answers (social identification), because I usually get stuck when talking about my national identity. Passports and origin apart, who am I? Am I Peruvian? Am I Chinese? Am I French? Am I…?
I\’ve tried the usual « half-Peruvian, half-Chinese », but that\’s not quite accurate, that 50% should rather be a 30% or 40%. Finding my identity has proven to be actually looking for the value of variables in the equation of nationality and, which is harder, knowing the number of variables in that equation. Since this is not a \ »x + y = me\ » type of equation, heck, how can I even be sure that its a first degree polynomial? There might even be different powers depending on the dimensions of each match, each one representing aspects of life.
Part I: Agadir, Morocco
Is it OK to be always seen as a Chinese (even though I am supposed to accept my appearance)? Being seen as such just reinforces the part of me that feels actually Peruvian, and I\’ve never felt that so deeply than here in France, the homesickness that invades me, the frustration of realising that I won\’t be able to fully ever live like a Peruvian.
Having experienced that beforehand and living it through every person that I have me draws me to half of a conclusion: nationality serves only as a distinguishing mark, it is what differences us in a group of people. But it shouldn\’t serve to define our skills, personality or potential. In other words, nationality may explain certain behaviours, but the reverse statement is not valid: one does not behave in one way or another because of his/her nationality.
The reason I was so in love with Hong Kong is that I met several \ »third culture kids\ », like me, of X origin, born and raised in Y and studying or making a living in Z. It touched me because that is right what I am trying to do now, except that my school has always tagged me as Chinese and not Peruvian… cant blame them.
It is hard to explain: I cannot introduce myself as Chinese since I have never fit in that culture, nor wanted to. I am rather Chinese-Peruvian, to be exact, however, people can only see a part of that, blinded by my… appearance? I know that I am more than an Asian face, but there are few chances for me to show that, given that I am not recognised at first sight as Latin-American, and that adds up to my failed attempt to be Peruvian.
Part II: La Rochelle > Paris. France
When we were crossing the valley of Poitou-Charentes, I couldn\’t help but to think to myself: this is home. This is the place that has allowed me to find myself and grow up. I wouldn’t be who I have become now without my Charente-Maritime. I have had the chance to grow in front of an ocean, the Pacific, and now the chance to live in front of another one, the Atlantic.
I have become \ »French\ » and I have found it to be freeing for the soul. I really picture my life here, at least for the next five years. I have finally built something from scratch with my hands so I cannot let go any opportunity that may fall from the sky. I have discovered life here and I think it would be hard for me to live better elsewhere.
Part III: Lima, Peru
The boarding of the plane was a cultural shock itself. Just watching how Peruvians behaved while queuing… Whenever I heard the accent, something wrenches inside me. I feel like a foreigner in my own country. Everything is a mess and I do not feel at ease at all. I know some people have the special skill to feel at home wherever, I must apologise but not me.
This city is actually a general disappointment, the only positive thing that I must say is that foreign capital investment has increased heavily and there are more concrete and more buildings everywhere. On the other side, there are more people on the streets, there are more smartphones and more cars, the driving sucks as always and the public transportation buses rock the asphalt, as always.
A friend asked me once \ »C’est où ton bled ?\ », well, my bled is Lima. No wonder why once I landed in Morocco I blinked twice, I thought I was in Peru. What was in my mind the moment I decided to come back? What has this city done for me?
Part IV: La Rochelle, France
The only demonstration of « Peruvianness » in La Rochelle can be seen during summer, at the harbour, where street musicians play Peruvian traditional music and sell souvenirs or CDs.
I can’t go out wearing a poncho and a chullo and start playing El Cóndor Pasa, because I’m not entirely that! It’s like dressing up as a Chinese and speaking softly and giggling, which is a stereotype that I would be fulfilling. I am a fusion, so I can’t behave 100% like one or the other. Everything I do is a new mix, and that’s why people who are not Peruvians can’t see where does that come from.
I went through that kind of misunderstanding, back in Lima. If in seven days I can’t get the hold of it and feel Peruvian again, how can I legitimately introduce myself as such? Legitimacy doesn’t come from a passport, so even if I am a Peruvian citizen, the reason I bond with Spanish speakers is not my nationality but my accent!
Language issues aside, what could I do to show people my own culture? Although I am the only Peruvian at school here, people have overlooked that part of me for so long, that I have even started to let it go. And just as I imagined that going back for a while would help me, it just sunk me even deeper than before, because I realized that I have lost track of who I am supposed to be and that I was never 100% Peruvian even when I was still living there.
There is a certainty, and it’s the fact that no, that is not my home. But it’s a part of myself.