Imagine Istanbul

If life is a search for meaning and perfection, what is identity, how connected is Identity to the search of truly knowing oneself?

Identity is a quest to know who you are, where you come from. It is the definition of the Self. You are defined by history and land of origin, genetics, family, language, traditions and perhaps even astrology. Who am I?

I live in a country of multiculturalism, multiple languages, freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and a place of long established democracy. I am free to be anything I determine myself to be. I am free to announce to whoever will listen, “I am”. My country is not perfect but it’s okay. You can succeed in anything here, if you work hard and know your way around our system.

I’ve traveled a lot, learned a few languages, I am open to different cultures. I consider myself not a citizen of my country, but rather of the world. Perhaps I revel in this freedom. I have always done exactly as I wanted, I have tried always to live in the truth, even though I found many times that truth can tear away structures and cause these weak structures to collapse. Maybe those structures or “myths” were never meant to be… I don’t know how I would have fared had I been born in another country that does not have this openness and freedom.

My personal history is of many countries. Historically, my family was forced to leave their country of origin because of religious persecution and war. Parts of my family were from Asia and India. One member of my family ended up being a Japanese prisoner of war and was forced into slave labor. My mother’s family today can be found in the countries of England, Australia, Canada and the U.S.A.

On my father’s side, there is a mixture of the French and the English. The French part of the family left France in the 1700s because of religious intolerance. After emigration, the family name evolved from a French name to an English name exactly twice. I kind of like the French name best because it sounds really pretty.

The history of my family like many other families is a tale of religious persecution, war, emigration and the marrying, over a period of time, different nationalities. And so, what is my identity? I am myself. I am born to merge with other cultures and identities and I consider myself blessed to have no fear of “the Other”.

And where does this all fit in with my blog about the little boy of Istanbul?

The little boy of Istanbul was a Kurdish boy. I had never even heard of the Kurdish people until I met him in 2003. Unwittingly, he had opened my eyes to an unknown people. And over the days, weeks, months and years that have passed, I learned more and more about the Kurdish people. I had discovered in the world a new Identity and slowly came to know their history, their language, their traditions, their music, their films, their enemies, their friends.

I pose this question to my friends and readers, many of you who find yourselves living in another country and not your country of origin. What do you bring to the country you find yourself living in? What is your Identity? Does your sense of Identity strengthen when living somewhere else? Does your Identity evolve; merge with “the Other”? Tell me who you are now.

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