THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME
My thoughts and experiences of "home".
The concept of home has always been one that has been interesting to me, but seemingly impossible to understand or feel for myself. Being the daughter of Caribbean immigrant parents, this proved to be an extra challenge for me. From my experience, for Black children of immigrant parents home seems to be a lost concept. A feeling of being motherless, unprotected, and vulnerable.
For me, I felt like I had no home in the world. No place would take me as their own. I have lived in many places and not even my mother's houses (she had many) felt like home to me.
United States | Even though I was born in the United States, I never had a strong connection to this country, even before I had and full awareness and understanding of the deep and complex history of slavery, racism, and white supremacy. I never considered myself an "American" from as early as age 7-8. People would tell me that I was "African-American" and that label/term just never landed with me. It never sat well. It felt like it was a lie and a forced identity for me. I called myself "Black" because that was the label that felt best.
The Bronx | I was born in the Bronx, NY and lived there for the first five years of my life. I have fond memories of the Bronx. I had lots of family there + my first church (that my grandmother and "god families" still attended) so I spent many weekends in the Bronx with my people. Although loved ones filled this borough and I have wild stories of my days in the Bronx, she did not offer me a home. I would tell people in the Bronx that I was born there and I would get a "oh, you barely lived here. You're not really from the Bronx. You can't claim the Bronx." Maybe they were right.
Orange County, NY | This is where I spent the bulk of my life, moving from house to house around Orange County. So many memories and stories from my childhood are in New York. Many of my defining moments as a young adult happened here. My independence happened here. I got my first car here. I moved out on my own here. Still, this didn't feel like "mine". When explaining to out of state people where I was from, it was hard to tell them my life story because I moved around so much. I would tell people that I was from or lived in upstate NY & they would reply, "You're not reallyfrom upstate, that's not upstate. Syracuse or Buffalo is upstate. Where were you born? Where is your family from?" When I would tell them that I was from the Bronx, but was raised in a Jamaican household, they would reply, "Oh, that makes more sense." But the Bronx didn't want me & neither did Jamaica.
Jamaica | This is the land of my parents and my parents parents, back to slavery days. Growing up, I was very much so raised Jamaican. I traveled a lot there in my youth. The last time I went there I was 23. I told locals I was Jamaican, but because I was so "fair-skinned" & didn't speak proper patois, I was a "yankee". Because I didn't struggle in the same way that they struggled, I was American. I wasn't raised in Jamaica so I was not Jamaican. They laughed at me or asked me all of these questions to see if I was really Jamaican although the blood pumping through my veins is as Jamaican as one can get. It didn't matter how much Jamaican culture was infused in my upbringing, I could not be Jamaican.
I also find that children of West Indian and African decent who live in the States always claim their parent's country/island, but do those places claim them as well? Do they welcome them with open arms?
African country | They always tell us to "go back to Africa", but does any country in Africa really want their stolen grandchildren back, the grandchildren so indoctrinated in Western society? I feel like Black people born in America are so othered. We are looked at as lazy or that because we live in America, we have things much easier or we have lots of money (my cousins in Jamaica definitely thought this when they asked me to send them an iPod within minutes of meeting them). I feel like we would stick out like a sore thumb, but that's my opinion. I could be totally wrong because I have never been to The Continent.
Why must I prove myself to be from where I say I am from?
I wonder if immigrant children living in other countries experience this too. The places I claimed didn't have love for me.
I felt like I always belonged to the in-between. Not this, but not really that either; somewhere in between. I am not sure if any physical location will offer me the feeling of home, although I am open to it. No geographical location is calling to me so maybe my heartbeat isn't of this world.
The closest I have felt to home was with my partner and within myself....but they tell you not to make a home in someone else's heart....but that was the only door that was open to me.
I have been exploring the concept of home and I am currently working on a project that I will share with you all first once it is complete (my goal is to be done by December of this year). I haven't been this clear, inspired, and excited about a project in a REALLY long time!
What are your experiences of home?