Growing up in South America, I was surrounded by a tight-knit family circle that included aunts and uncles, grandparents, and cousins. We had constant family gatherings with food, games, lively conversations, and a lot of laughter. But that’s half of the story, as there was another circle which was mysterious and intriguing to me. Most of the family on my father’s side had moved abroad, and lived in different countries. I had an aunt who lived in Switzerland with her Dutch husband and two children. My uncle had moved to Spain to become a doctor, and lived in Madrid with his Spanish wife and two daughters. My youngest aunt moved to the United States and lived in Michigan with her American husband and son. Her older sister had been living in the US for quite some time, as she and her husband had planned to educate their four boys the American way.
Life in our household was very full with traditional day-to-day activities, but there was an additional realm of family life that existed very far away from us. We would only hear bits and pieces about our relatives’ lives when my father talked to them on the phone, ten or twenty minutes a few times a year, and mostly around birthdays and holidays. Some of them would come to visit every few years, which was very exciting and involved much preparation as we couldn’t wait to receive and accommodate them. In my young mind, when these foreign relatives visited, it felt like a movie star had decided to stop by my house. They came full of charm, cool stories, interesting accents, and fascinating personalities. But to my surprise, they had something in common with us and it showed when they returned to their “natural” habitat. They were one of “us”, although in a very different way. This exchange of family stories, nationalities, languages, and customs taught me to think beyond my borders very early on, and to dream about life in these other worlds that were unknown to me.
Fast forward several decades and my siblings and I are experiencing the same thing. We are spread across two continents, in three different countries each with very different cultures. We have taken new citizenships and some of us married spouses from other countries, with cultures and families of their own. Thinking about that melting pot happening within my family makes me smile. It feels like a re-edit of what our relatives did when they were our age, and we are now the ones who go visit each other and bring new rituals and habits into the mix. This requires that we make an effort to stay connected, get to know our young nieces and nephews as they grow up, and understand the new cultural norms that guide each new family formed. It brings a new complexity that I always saw from a distance, but that I already knew about. In these modern times, we have the advantage of affordable technology readily available to connect us everyday if we so choose. While the expensive “land” lines of the past are no longer an obstacle for us to keep in touch, our busy lives and time zone differences highlight how precious the few minutes we have available to jump on a family call really are.
One of the concepts this experience has made me grapple with the most is belonging. What does belonging mean? Did I ever belong in my country of birth? I always felt that I didn’t really belong there, at least not completely, and that there was a life waiting for me elsewhere. And where do I belong now? Does that really matter? If so, in what sense? In reality, belonging does matter; and it matters to me. I subscribe to the definition of belonging not as a static condition, but as being accepted, embraced. For me, it’s not about fitting in – since that can feel superficial and change very quickly. Belonging for me refers to a place, environment or culture where I feeI that I can thrive. Today, belonging is widely used with regards to inclusion in society, in the workplace, and in affinity groups. In my case, I view it broadly, universally.
Going back to my family growing up, if any of my visiting relatives had decided to come back to stay, they would have had a hard time. They would have felt that they no longer belonged there – as in, they would not have felt secure or at ease with the place they had left behind – even if their “native” passport suggested otherwise. Time and time again in fact, they experienced big culture shocks during their stays. Likewise, if I went back to my native country of Venezuela today, I would no longer feel that I belong there. It’s a strange feeling to realize that after being gone for years I no longer feel at home in my country of birth. Interestingly enough, I have learned that starting a new life in a different country does not eliminate the problems that I left back home. No matter how many miles of separation I have, they still come to find me via whatever or whoever I left behind. This results in a feeling I have sometimes of not fully belonging here, nor there. But I will come back to that another day.
Fortunately, when I get together with my siblings, I immediately feel that I belong. This may be natural for many families, yet I have come across stories of people who never plan to speak to their families again, have a rift with one or more siblings, or can’t even consider sitting at the same Thanksgiving table for a couple of hours every other year. Across oceans and households, my siblings and I have preserved a major inheritance: our unbreakable bond. We no longer have access to the possessions that our parents had in our native country, but we do become a household when we are together. To me, that is a primary sense of belonging, which extends my roots far away from home.
In addition to my family, I have a group of old friends that grew up together. We have yet to all reunite in person after decades of being apart, but we do communicate regularly thanks to our mobile devices. These are friends who regardless of time and distance will celebrate each other’s triumphs and mourn losses from afar. We have inside jokes and continue to go back to our old jabs from when we were in our teens and twenties. There is a sense of belonging there, although I suspect there would probably be some initial awkwardness if we got physically together. I do know, however, that I will never again have a group of friends like them. The song “Rivers and Roads” by The Head and the Heart beautifully articulates this feeling and resonates so deeply with me, that I can hardly hear it without crying.
As I moved abroad and my family and friends did too, I have felt for years that a big part of me was missing. The sense of belonging has not been quite the same, even though I have tried to find belonging in local professional groups, church, and school events. I have joined book clubs, pen pal groups, and small groups, at times coming back from these experiences empty-handed. Despite failed attempts and disappointments, I have looked for ways to get to know people both socially and in my professional life. I have learned that there is value in being persistent and, instead of shrinking in a corner because I feel I don’t even fit in, I must go out there and create the context where I want to belong. Interestingly, I have found some level of connection, legitimate professional opportunities, and personal growth in virtual spaces once again facilitated with technology. Expanding my context in these new and different ways allows me to go beyond my hometown and belong to something bigger. This means that walls and barriers, boundaries and limits can be lifted to allow my belonging somewhere.
On what seems the opposite of my personal experience, I’ve known people whose family is, has been, and will likely be a one-county family. Their gravitational pull is so strong, that even if some of them move to a different state at some point, they return to the “mother ship” in a few years. Or they never leave the fold. Their community of family and friends can appear impossible to break into, like a fortress. There is special beauty in that life model, which is very foreign to me. It is neither good, nor bad in my eyes. But I know it’s not for me, and while I can’t imagine living that way, I make no judgment. I look at that type of belonging with curiosity. Do these people know there’s a big, beautiful world out there? What keeps them so grounded in their place? What do they know that I don’t? I’ve traveled to very small towns with populations in the low hundreds, and always asked myself: What keeps them here? Are they happy? What is it like to live here? How do they make a living?
Going back to my family’s story, of all the siblings my dad chose to stay in his hometown. He loved to travel, but he bucked the trend his family went on and was the only one who stayed put in his birthplace. He always told us: ”I’d rather be the head of the mouse than the tail of the lion” which pretty much meant he didn’t want to be a cog in the system, or another number in a big foreign place. He did, however, make sure that all his children were prepared to leave the nest and start a life elsewhere; and we all did. He truly belonged in our hometown and spent the rest of his days there. However, his life still has ripple effects in places far and away, as his legacy has extended to his descendants abroad.
As you go about your day, I encourage you to think about whether you feel you belong where you are, and where you want to belong. You may feel comfortable with what you know, and that’s great. But if you feel that something is missing or are curious about other places, you may want to go explore. You can find another road to belonging, and it could be where you are now or somewhere else. I encourage you to not give up but keep looking – it is that important. If you are familiar with Abraham Maslow and his “Hierarchy of Needs,” you know that belonging is, along with safety and physiological needs, essential for humans. We are social creatures and need to find a place for love, community, and connection. Without that, it can be difficult to thrive and become our best selves. If we don’t have community around us, we are likely to experience loneliness, isolation, and – in some cases – a sense of futility. This is not about a popularity contest. In fact, it’s likely that belonging somewhere will bring its own set of problems. Why? Because people are complex, and the human condition is imperfect. Despite those challenges, human beings are wired for social interaction and will mostly need others to survive.
It’s important for us to be intentional about our belonging. If we feel uneasy where we are, we can keep looking for the place or the community where we are embraced or, at the very least, look for a place where we feel less friction and more ease. Nobody can tell us with certainty where we belong, but we will feel it. This is something not to dismiss, as we will often hear that we should make the best out of our situation. I agree with challenging ourselves to feel rightly placed where we are; but if after trying several times we still feel lonely, it is a good idea to explore and expand our horizons – whether a different group or a new place. We have the power to pursue our sense of belong
