This week I've been at Mennonite Mission Network's Overseas Seminar, leading the third culture kid (TCK) youth. Being a TCK means that you grew up in a place where one culture was your passport country's, another was your host country's, an interesting blend of the two (or more) is your own. I haven't been at one of these since 2002, when I was a little African boy about to enter public high school and have my own less dramatic four-year version of a Mean Girls experience. Seriously.
Being part of the TCK group that week eight years ago was a wonderful thing. I hadn't been in a group before and haven't since that bonded so quickly and felt so comfortable. I was coming from 14 years of life, at least as many different cultural groups (sometimes 3 or more per place) where among the last 10 houses, 8 international moves, 5 school changes, 4 best friends, and 3 languages, the only consistent part of my growing up years had been my family members. The thing is, whenever a group of TCKs gets together, the fact that they grew up with similarly high amounts of transition brings them together pretty tightly.
In preparation for leading this group I've been learning about the advantages and disadvantages of being a TCK. So much of what I've read has helped me to understand the good and the bad of how I've dealt with being a TCK as well as the increasingly clear differences between me and my parents. Once again being in a group of TCKs helps me to see similarities in the values that we hold strongly, our reactions to events, our confidence and easy-going nature, our hesitance and our ignorance.
TCKs deal with rapid transitions by being cultural chameleons. We quickly learn the visible cues, styles, and current pop culture in whatever place we transplant to. We learn how to fit in to the point that we seem to be from the place that we currently reside. When I'm asked where I'm from, I quickly gauge the questioner's interest in me and my life. If I know or hope that I'm going to have a longer term relationship with this person, I'll probably tell them about growing up along the West African coast. They'll ask what countries, and I'll tell them Ghana, Benin, and Ivory Coast. They ask how long, I tell them 10 years. Thats generally as far as it goes. With acquaintances, I simply tell them that I've been around Elkhart since high school.
For many TCKs, we live in multiple worlds. We often go back and forth across lines that most people rarely if ever cross. The most obvious lines are the cultural ones. That is the line between North America and Europe, Africa, and East Asia. Beyond crossing those lines when new air rushes into your face at the plane door, there are the lines between the city and the village, the manicured lawns and the swept-dirt courtyards, the hot shower and the bucket bath. We cross another cultural line every time we leave the American Recreation Center and get on a motorcycle taxi to take us back home. We cross class lines every day between our houses, the international schools we attend with the richest kids in the country, and our churches in the shantytowns. We have potential to grow up to become habitual line-crossers.
The class line is one that we get particularly good practice crossing. Thats because when we come back to our passport countries, we find ourselves continuing to cross that line. Our friends' families from before we left and our new friends have spent more time in the rat race than our families have, making the transition from a missionary salary to dual US salary feel like a step down the economic ladder. Often due to our humble living situation we opt to go to our friends' houses rather than bring our friends to our own houses.
The shame that comes with showing rich friends your life without air conditioning, pools, and servants becomes something familiar. We've learned how it feels. We've learned that to fend off the shame, we must concentrate on what we love and what is beautiful about ourselves, our cultures (as confused as they may be), our families, and our situations.
