"Hey, so where are you actually from?"
This is the obligatory question I can always feel coming when meeting someone new, and at the same time also fear, because my brain immediately starts producing the temporary identity issues I'm about to tell you about. On paper, I am a German citizen, but I already left the country back when I still hated boys and I hadn't even attended enough history lessons yet to feel that notorious German collective guilt. Spending my childhood and beginning of my teenage years in Germany has clearly influenced me, shaped my morals and work ethics, not to mention my drive to succeed in school as if that's the equivalent to succeeding in all aspects of life. I even get quite emotional and overly enthusiastic about the World Cup and European Championship, which is the only reason why I watch football every two years, and black, red and gold become the only colours I can see. I had so many of my firsts in Germany, both good and bad, which are memories that will stay with me forever. Whenever I am going back to Germany, it feels like I'm meeting my younger, and simultaneously, old Self, which I almost feel like I left behind when my family and I moved to Norway.
"So you're from Norway then? Or wait, do you still feel German?"
When I started a new life in Norway in my pubescent teenage years (aka the worst possible years for additional radical change), I was blown away by the school's relaxed attitude and no-pressure policies. Whereas in Germany you can often feel as if you're just a human resource for society, which, in all fairness, we kind of are (maybe I'm more German than I thought), in Norway, teachers suddenly cared about an individual student's feelings, well-being, and accomplishments at school. They preached about social inclusion, mutual respect and acceptance. This Norwegian togetherness and focus on mental health was something I didn't even know had been lacking in Germany, and it was easy to identify with it, since it felt so obviously important. Furthermore, Norway was also the reason why I pursued my hobbies in music and art, which I felt like I abandoned because there was no space for an additional life besides your school life. Norway gave me the right to be what I pretty much still was: a child. I learned that it's important not to let oneself believe that accomplishments at school represent one's identity, and that social fulfilment as well as personal fulfilment are just as crucial to a good life as acing that test you've been studying for. I became part of a system I could fully agree with and be comfortable in, and already after around two or three years, I almost felt like I had become as Norwegian as someone with two nationalities could become.
"Hold on- two nationalities? So you're not just German and fake Norwegian?"
Believe me, I'm just as confused as you are. My mother was born and raised in Poland. She's even Polish enough to have taught my brother and I her mother tongue when we were younger, so we could fully communicate with our Polish side of the family. Every summer we would visit Poland to spend a couple of weeks there, mostly following an agenda that involved eating two ice creams per day, playing with the neighbours' children and dogs, but most embarassingly, me perfoming self-written songs in Polish in front of my father's old camcorder. Although I have Polish blood running through my veins, I think it's the nationality that has influenced me the least. It has mostly taught me a little bit about people's obsession and dedication to religion and religious values, Polish hospitality, their drinking culture that could easily compete against the German's, and their love for cabaret. I used to watch Polish television for children, I learned to love the traditional food and always helped making pierogi with blueberries, but I think the older I became and the less I spent time there, the more I distanced myself from something that used to be a big part of me and my childhood. Although being half Polish is somehow part of my identity, I don't feel quite as Polish when I'm there in the summer, in contrast to when I'm back in Norway and adapt to being Norwegian again.
"What do you mean by 'back' in Norway? Didn't you move there with your family?"
Right, here we go, we're almost done with history's longest bio. After I had been living in Norway for around five years, I decided to go on exchange. It's something I had always wanted to do, and I had actually been known to the exchange company EF 'Education First' since year 9. It's not like I had been in England before and I wished to live there, but I have always been a fan of the language, its sound and especially English writer's style, and I felt like I was in extreme need of an adventure, a change. Little did I know that I would love it so much to decide to move here for good, despite all uncertainties and problems that would come with it. Moving from Norway to England didn't just teach me about British culture, and I already knew what it's like to adapt to a new environment. Leaving Norway was like getting a greater insight into the world, and made me realise that life isn't supposed to be fair and neither will it adapt to your own needs, which is what living in Norway can feel like sometimes. When you live in such a well-functioning, socialist country like Norway, it's easy to get used to that utopian bubble where life's so good, you don't even complain about the weather. In fact, you feel bad for complaining at all. The issue with living a life in a system that contributes to making everything as easy as possible for everyone, is that we grow too comfortable. I find that especially Norwegian children and teenagers aren't the best at taking initiative in problem-solving, handling conflicts and even criticism is often viewed negatively. There's nothing wrong with creating a system where everyone thrives, it only becomes a problem as soon as you leave that system. England gave me a whole new meaning of the saying "Life is what you make it". It taught me that life is always going to be unfair and it's your job to make the best out of it, it taught me to take more initiative and work towards independence. On a fun note, it also taught me when maturity is needed, and when it's okay to be childish and live a little ridiculously.
"So what do you consider yourself then? German, Norwegian, Polish or British?"
To be completely honest: I have absolutely no idea. Do you understand now why it's so hard to explain where I'm from without presenting my whole autobiography? I understand that one's nationality is a big part of a person's identity. It's where we got our values and way of life from, and it's something that makes up a big part of who we are. It influences how we look at other nationalities from the outside, it navigates our sense of right and wrong, but I believe that it also limits us, if we hold on to it too much. I am trying to look at my personality and identity as something that's constantly evolving, because there's always more to learn, more to experience and more to understand. Why should we hold on to a rigid set of values and philosophies, when instead, we can dare to challenge them, transform, and hopefully, improve them? Perhaps if we take away that pride in our nationality, we can pick the positive sides from various life philosphies and national values, and merge together the ones that could be benefitial to anyone, no matter what background. We don't need to be our nationality and heritage. We can work towards creating our own life philosophy and identity that's a product of critical thinking, understanding and the will to live the way we believe will be the most rewarding to ourselves and others. I'm not about to perform some Martin Luther King speech about how I have a dream about people daring to consider to be wrong, in order to help them think critically and make the best possible decisions for the people around them. But hey, now that I've already mentioned it, maybe we could at least think about it? It doesn't even matter where you're from, or what you believe in, because it's not your nationality that stops you from thinking critically, it's something you can be in control of yourself. After years of moving, being confronted with different nationalities and sets of values, and going through existential identity crises, I have come to the conclusion that I am what I believe everyone should be able to consider themselves to be, because it's simply what we all are: a world citizen.
