When ‘home’ feels foreign

Defining your cultural identity is hard when you are raised in multiple foreign countries, says Conor Knell.

The question ‘‘where are you from’’ is hard for me to answer. And it usually starts with an abridged autobiography. I was born in England, moved to Paris at 15 months old, moved back to England at 8 years old, moved to Singapore at 9, and, finally, to New Zealand at 14.

Or if I go based on my parents, my father is Northern Irish and my mother grew up as an English missionary child raised in Ghana and Kenya. Hence, why I hold three passports: Irish, British and New Zealand.

I sometimes joke that my home country is the no-man’s land past security at airport departures. But many with an upbringing like mine have difficulty giving a straightforward answer.

Much has been said during the Covid-19 pandemic about overseas Kiwis trying to get home and, on July 1, the borders will be completely open.

But the experience of being a foreign child overseas and the culture shock of resettlement is rarely touched on, especially around Kiwi kids moving here for the first time.

We forget that these hidden migrants are newcomers, despite what their passport says. And they face a whirlwind of challenges when they ‘‘come home’’.

While the term ‘‘third culture kid’’ (TCK) has been extended to include refugee children and permanent migrants, it was originally coined by American sociologist Ruth Useem to describe expatriate children who spend their formative years overseas.

In 2017, 4.5 million children worldwide attended international schools. By 2021, that number was close to 6m. As globalised capitalism grows, TCK numbers grow too.

There are many types. Military TCKs, missionary TCKs, and diplomatic TCKs. But like most of my international school classmates, I was a corporate TCK. Thanks to a US insurance giant, Dad’s various roles in the company usually meant relocation.

But insurance is just one example. Oil, pharmaceuticals, banking, motoring, IT and even news companies all send families overseas to fulfil company obligations to an expanding global market.

It all sounds glamorous from the outset. TCKs will out-exotic every holiday experience you’ve had, they might be bilingual, and you might roll your eyes thinking they’ve been raised on one big extravagant holiday.

And while it’s true that quality of life can skyrocket when your company ships you overseas, it comes with costs.

Getting on the international expat trail means cutting off support networks for good. No granny down the road, no cousins to catch up with on the weekend, no lifelong mates known since kindy. You’re out there on your own. Each country means starting from scratch. It’s a life of instability and rootlessness.

And when expats resettle, they might have a vague idea of New Zealand from family visits. But those cultural touchstones of music, slang, social norms and shared experiences are where they are on the back foot. They look like you, they might sound like you, but they’re new here.

It can be shocking for parents to see their kids as foreigners in their home countries.

But recognising that, holding their hand through their adaptation, and validating the grief they’ve felt for the home they’ve left behind, is so important. It might’ve been your overseas posting, but it was their home and they had no choice in leaving it. I’m fortunate my parents saw my struggle.

And for the people who might never have left these shores and now find these kids in their community, I implore you to meet them halfway. They’re not showing off and they don’t think themselves above you. Their international experience is all they know.

Understand and empathise with them as best you can, make them feel welcome, show them there is a place in your community. As a powerful woman once said, be kind.

My best friends are the ones who value my international background. Who celebrate what I bring to the table from that. They’re the ones who make me feel at home at times when I feel like a stranger.

I hope every returning overseas Kiwi kid finds those same people too.

It’s a life of instability and rootlessness. Conor Knell, above