Expat Generation: Growing into your own skin as an expatriate


Each and every one of us is a mosaic of people, places and experiences; our surrounding environments inform and shape us, as we inform and shape them. Growth equates to finding differences within or without you that you then apply to yourself, whether by affinity or necessity. We become a collage of those characteristics and thoughts that stick to us as we go through life, either by being characteristics that we like or by remaining unbudging before us and forcing us to take them in. 

When I was younger, I moved from place to place, my feelings and understanding of home consequently becoming ever more obfuscated. I used to find solace in the romanticized notion that the more I traveled and expanded myself, the more agency I developed in choosing who I wanted to be, aside from others’ expectations. I thought of myself selectively being able to take in what I liked from every place I visited and person I met, absorbing all their best qualities as my own. 

For there was no sole perspective or place that offered an all-encompassing truth. Quite the opposite, actually: two paradoxical truths could exist, both completely at odds with each other and yet both equally as valid. Being from a different culture, color or creed did not mean better, or worse, or enlightened or misled — simply different. And from all differences put together, nothing but greater strength for all could be acquired.

While such lessons will always be true, what I have learned lately, however, is that although a noble pursuit, exposing yourself to more and more doesn’t necessarily equate to continued self-improvement. 

While it is true that there are always refinements to be made, I have begun to come to terms with the idea of allowing myself to settle; as any weary traveler after a long journey ought to. To cherish what I know to be good, and make good standing by it; to forget about all else that might potentially come. To stop desperately craving to absorb everything that comes before me and begin to create my own opinions out of what I already have had the privilege to absorb.

It is a privilege to have been exposed to diverse societies, world views, languages and cultures that so many expats such as myself have experienced in their own semi-nomadic journey, though many times throughout such a journey I must admit to have forgotten myself and seen it as a curse. A curse of always being the new kid, of always being the different one and the one that might stand out if he is not already singled out, of having certain agitations about oneself and misgivings about a lack of foundation that others not constantly moving might have been able to establish at a younger age. 

It is a privilege, though, to have a certain adaptability that others lacking the situational experience might have trouble matching. Or having the mind of a world-traveled soul, when so many would wish nothing better than to leave the one place they have always known. 

I am aware that in this wayward and unorthodox life experience of mine, there has been undeniable benefit in having been allowed to exist going among teams rather than always staying true to one prescribed. And yet, there comes a time when that stability of the one who’s never doubted where they are from or who they are becomes so desirable that the wanderer begins to look about themselves wondering where they might lay roots. 

Looking back on it now, many of those sentiments were present in my mind when I finally decided on Southern California as the place where I would settle down for four full years. Having spent the previous four years in three different countries and two different continents, four years in one place seemed like an eternity. 

So coming to this entirely foreign place already felt like a homecoming, and with it came my quiet hopes and aspirations and anxieties of finding home and settling down, if only for a moment. To work on laying some sturdy foundations and to build the next layer of my growth as an individual upon their stability, the port from which to launch into my next adventure.

And yet, now that I am here, I feel a certain trepidation to trust myself and lay down those roots. Having taken on an identity akin to that of the nomads of the Sahara for so long, it can be daunting to now trust a footprint will actually stick, and not be wiped clean from the sand by the ever changing desert winds. 

But that is the only solution, to trust. The wind will inevitably continue to blow — sometimes devastatingly so. But don’t be afraid to settle. Trust your ability to adapt when you must, and when you mustn’t, your ability to stand strong; and through it all, your ability to grow.

Javier Calleja Erdmann is a sophomore writing about the international student experience. His column, “Expat Generation,” runs every other Friday.