Playing poker with passports
The experience of transnationals
By Anna Yukhananov

I found my first SAIS party by the huddle of students on the stoop, gesticulating with their cigarettes. Inside, some people were drinking Bordeaux, some were espousing the virtues of European enlargement, and two were musing over the lyrics of a Japanese children's song. The lingua franca was a smooth mixture of English, Spanish, French, and Italian, with occassional interjections in Mandarin, Arabic, or Russian.

The smoky room could easily have been transported to any major world capital, a cosmopolitan gathering that transcended national boundaries.

Yet for some SAISers, such blurring of national languages and identities is not reserved for special fêtes—it is a matter of daily life.

Variously called “third-culture kids” or “transnationals,” these students come from families of mixed nationality or have spent most of their lives outside their country of origin.

Their parents are diplomats, businessmen, or simply perpetual travelers. They are fluent in at least two languages, usually three or more. Their friends live all over the world. And in a world of nation-states, people often do not know what to make of them.

Introductions

For those without a one-word national identity, meeting new people requires careful thought and preparation.

Hugo Lodewik Enrique Meijer’s mother is Spanish and French, his father is Dutch, and he grew up in Italy. When introducing himself, Meijer may just choose one of his multiple nationalities.

“It’s just simpler that way,” he said. “Otherwise, everytime I get to know someone, I have to talk about myself for the first half hour. You get sick of it.

“But it is good for dates.”

In contrast, Loïc Whitmore, a second-year SAIS student, said he always uses the same introduction.

“In Bologna, every time you talked in class you had to say where you’re from,” Whitmore said. “I always said, ‘I am half-English, half-French, but I’ve been living for 17 years in Italy.’ I said this a total of four times in lecture.

“People started making fun of me.”

Despite others students’ reactions, for Whitmore limiting himself to just one nationality does not feel genuine.

“The simplest thing would be to say I’m Italian,” he said. “But I never said that.  I really feel half-English, half-French.”

Accents and camp songs

Having a transnational or multi-national identity means constantly confronting preconceptions about what it means to belong to a particular group.

Ilaria Regondi, a second-year student, considers herself Italian. However, much of her education was spent in international schools — from Istanbul to London —, where she picked up an American accent.

“It’s always hard to introduce myself to English speakers because they assume I’m American,” Regondi said. “To me, it’s almost a disadvantage that I speak English so well.

“The difficulty is always having to justify yourself. You have to conform to people’s stereotypes if you want them to see you in a certain way.”

Niloufer Siddiqui, a first-year student, would agree. Although born in Pakistan, she spent much of her life living abroad, in places as diverse as Cairo, Jakarta, and Switzerland. When she came to college in the United States, Siddiqui said that she tried to simplify her background.

“I basically assimilated,” Siddiqui said. “Actually, I hate that word. But it’s like I had to tone it down. People didn’t know how to categorize me.

“Everyone likes grouping people, putting them in packages. If you’re against the war in Iraq, you’re for abortion and gay marriage. But what the hell does abortion have to do with the war in Iraq?

“I’m much more comfortable with the characterization I get at SAIS. Here, there’s less of this packaging,” she said.

Connecting with co-nationals means not only speaking with the right accent. It also implies sharing a national experience and culture. Several of the trans-national students at SAIS mentioned the difficulty of staying attuned to the local popular culture.

“Pop culture is a huge thing,” said second-year student Jon Bartolozzi, who grew up in Italy, the United Kingdom, and Brazil.

“That’s how people realize you’re not from there. I don’t know my camp songs [in America]. I know all about 80s pop culture in Italy, all the cartoon songs. But if you go more modern, I have no idea.

“I’m just now noticing how many of people’s references in a conversation are about pop culture. That’s when you realize you don’t get the joke.”

Transnational elite?

For those in constant transit, it is often easier and more comfortable to make connections with others in the same situation instead of trying to learn the particularities of a national culture.

As a child, Whitmore said that he felt an aversion to other “third-culture kids” he met in Italy.

“I hated them,” he said. “They were very snobbish, and were always using their background as a way to be cool. Those who live in an elite of third-culture kids, I definitely don’t have an affinity with.”

However, Whitmore said that now, he understands the temptation to only interact with people of a similar background.

“If you live in this bubble of elites, you know that people understand you completely,” he said. “It’s hard to leave it. It’s too much of an effort to integrate yourself if you’re always moving around.

“If I worked for the government in a foreign country, I’d probably be the same way.”

Such affinities can also result from being an outsider. When she lived in the United Kingdom, Regondi said she did not know British TV shows or understand British humor. Naturally, she gravitated toward other international students.

“I’m very comfortable with people who are identity-less,” she said. “You end up identifying with people who are the same way as you, or who understand it and accept it.”

Malleable identities

Ultimately, not having a clear-cut national identification is still a foreign concept for most of the world's population. Less than 30% of U.S. citizens own a passport, let alone spend significant time abroad. Regondi said that when she goes back to her little town in Italy, "I'm like the renegade child."

“They think I abandoned them,” she said. “This whole lifestyle doesn't adapt to every culture.”

Without a fixed nationality, transnational students may be forced to more fully reflect on how to define themselves.

“Figuring out your identity is never a settled thing,” Siddiqui said. “You think you have it down, but it's like, everywhere you go, you have to re-invent it all over again.”

Anna Yukhananov is a 1st year MA candidate in Middle East Studies and an editor of the Observer