Happy 4th of July from an aspiring “global citizen”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the social construction of citizenship/national identity. I’m not sure if it is all this World Cup buzz (speaking of buzz, do those horrible vuvuzela horns sound like a giant swarm of bees to anyone else but me?) -- where people rally around “their” national teams that may be manned by other country’s citizens (e.g. the Portugal team had Spanish players) or coached by expatriates (e.g. wasn’t England’s team coached by an Italian?).

Or maybe it’s the ever growing amount of time living in a country that is not my own. In 2010, for example, I’ll actually be off of American soil more than I’m on it (in fact I’ll be in the States for about 5 ½ months this year). I’ve been here so regularly that few of the un-American uses of English make me stop and pause as they did when I first started coming. I even found myself translating for our guests, Rick and Roberta, as Paul spoke. When he says something is “wonky” he means it’s “out of whack.” When he refers to watching for “bonking donkeys” on the roads, it is clear to me what they are up to as they sprint across the road hyped up on hormones.

At dinner the other night we had a fascinating conversation about citizenship and how it is decided upon. At the table were two women born in Kenya while it was still under colonial rule, resulting in their original designation as “English” citizens. One has since revoked her English citizenship to become a Botswana citizen. The other is still an English citizen living in South African applying for American citizenship (since her adult daughter currently lives in LA having been granted American citizenship at birth by virtue of her American father even though she was born in Botswana). Confusing I know! Also at the table was a South African citizen who has residency in Botswana and, of course, Paul and I both US citizens with Botswana residency.

So how does one decide citizenship/national identity? Is it where one is born? The USA, South Africa and many others do this – if you are born there you are a citizen. Paul’s son had South African citizenship, for example, because his mother was airlifted from Botswana to a South African hospital while she was pregnant with appendicitis and he was born, prematurely, there. Is citizenship based on your parents’ country of origin? Many countries do this as well. His son is an American citizen because Paul is American. He is also Danish because his mother is from Denmark (where he currently lives).

Botswana is a bit different. In fact, in another conversation with friends who have lived in Botswana for years, I learned that, despite the fact that their teenage sons were born here and have spent all of their lives in Botswana, when they turn 18, they have no rights to citizenship or residency as adults. As children they are here on their parents’ residency permits, but as adults, they would need to apply for their own residency (which is no easy feat – for me to get residency in Botswana I had to apply as Paul’s wife and dependent and he had to claim financial responsibility for me). As such, in Botswana at least, simply being born and living in a country your whole life doesn’t guarantee you citizenship.

To complicate the matter further, consider Paul’s situation. Technically he is American. He was born on American soil (left the States when he was 4 years old). His parents were Americans. He carries an American passport. But he is in so many ways NOT American. He’s lacking much of the cultural knowledge that goes with being American (e.g. knowledge of TV shows, movie stars, colloquial language usage). He spent much of his formative years out of the country raised primarily in Europe. His use of English is much more “English” than “American.” The other night at dinner I was caught off guard when the lemon cheese cake we bought for dessert was referred to as “pudding.” I corrected our host clarifying, “It is cheese cake.” When I was thanked at the end of the night for bringing the “pudding,” after we had already eaten the cheese cake, I realized it wasn’t an oversight but a non-American way of referring to dessert. For those of you American English speakers out there in the song lyric that states, “If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding…” pudding is not pudding! Damn, you learn something new every day.

The question of “national identity” complicates things even further than that of citizenship. Paul has spent the last 35 years in Botswana making him much more nationally identified with Botswana than the USA. Yet he is clearly an expatriate here, not quite embracing a Batswana national identity either. Of course, the practical reality of this is that countries have to decide who they are responsible for and who they aren’t. Who is entitled to health benefits, education, old age pensions? The free flow of human populations could make this quite expensive for counties with generous benefits (if I was looking for the best benefits package and could freely move, I’d move to Denmark or one of the other Scandinavian countries!). Yet even those benefits are not solely linked to citizenship (e.g. Despite his citizenship, Paul will not be eligible for Medicare OR Social Security because he hasn’t worked enough quarters in the US; he may be entitled to some of mine (by virtue of marriage) but not until I reach retirement age – at least that's what we think, we still haven’t fully figured that out).

So as we approach the 4th of July holidays I ponder - what is citizenship? National identity? For most of you out there reading this, these might be questions you’ve never considered. Perhaps you were born in the country you live in. Perhaps your parents were born there too. So for you, it’s simple. For me, it’s getting more complicated. And yet I am so thoroughly American (looking, sounding) there is little doubt from anyone I meet while traveling where I am from. Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, Eat, Pray, Love, talks about feeling like a flamingo when she travels. I often feel that way too, pink and out of place (the only time that hasn’t happened is in Denmark and Ireland). It’s as if I have “Born in the USA” stamped on my forehead. So as the 4th of July approaches, I do feel a bit nostalgic – longing for red, white and blue, a parade with a marching band, watermelon, family and friends at a cook out, a Red Sox baseball game. But another part of me aspires for more. Fully aware of the dark side of nationalism (war, conflict, drunken brawls in bars over lost soccer games), there’s a way in which I wish we could all be “global citizens.” Aren’t we all members of the same human race? Don’t we all live in the small global space? So with that I’ll wish you a Happy 4th of July… from an aspiring global citizen! Eat a (vegetarian) hot dog with Ketchup for me ;o)