Wow! Your family’s from africa? So cool!
When meeting someone for the first time, occasionally during the holidays, one of the most common questions that people ask is “Where are you from?” For most people it’s a simple question, but it’s always been hard for me to answer. Although I was born and raised in Virginia, my parents and the rest of my family is from South Africa. So while I know I’m an American, it’s hard for me not to acknowledge my family’s history. Though it comes with some cool perks and fun stories, the reality has some hardships too.
Compared to a lot of other immigrant families, our family is quite blessed because my parents were raised speaking English and a job opportunity is what drew my father to the United States, so he didn’t have to hunt one down. While my mom’s family wasn’t impressed that my dad was stealing her away to another country, their move was relatively easy and they transitioned into the American life after a bit. Since they’ve been here, both of my parents worked hard and received their citizenship; in fact, my dad was one of the lucky few that was able to do so at Patrick Henry’s house!
SO… what’s the issue then?
Although I have been fortunate enough to travel to South Africa a few times throughout my life, it’s not an easy endeavor. While I sympathize with people who have family members that live a few hours or states away, I can’t help but feel as though they aren’t super comparable. It’s one thing to drive or even fly domestically, it’s a whole different thing to fly internationally, in my opinion. Perhaps my family are avid planners, but it takes a lot of prepping and planning in order to visit and it’s not super cheap either. When it comes to holidays, it’s rare that I even get the privilege of spending it with my family unless someone chooses to take the long trip over here. I’ve only gotten to experience Christmas in South Africa twice, and though I’ve loved being around them, another issue arises.
They don’t feel like my family.
For all I can remember, I’ve been raised with my mom, dad, and my younger brother. It’s always been just the four of us. In Virginia, we moved from apartment, to house, to another apartment, then to a house. When my dad got another job opportunity, we drove from Virginia to Texas in a truck, with a boat, and three cats. Once we were there, we moved into a rental house and then, finally, our home now. Throughout that entire endeavor, all we had was each other – they were all I knew.
When it comes to my outside family, I grew up listening to stories about my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents, but that’s all they were – stories. There were photos to document the few trips I went on as a baby with my grandparents, aunts, and uncles, but I was far too young to remember them now. So, when it comes to visiting them, there’s a bit of awkwardness because I feel like I don’t know them. It’s as though they are strangers that share my DNA.
On the occasions I do get to spend a long amount of time with my external family, it’s almost salt in the wound. You’re telling me that these people are funny, loving, and kind, and I probably won’t see them again for a few years? How great! (sarcasm) Now that I’m in college, it’s even harder to travel to South Africa because it’s not possible for me to miss weeks at a time, versus being in middle/high school, where all I needed was my parents written permission and a note to my teachers.
What do holidays look like for you?
Obviously I understand that not everyone is able to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, etc. with their entire family, however watching my classmates and neighbors enjoying their time with their grandparents always made me envious of their lives. In fact, I’m counting down the days until I can create a huge family of my own. Regardless, what we’ve always done is something we call an “orphan” holiday. We reach out to our friends and neighbors, that also struggle to see their family, and invite them over to our house to enjoy the holidays together.
This past Christmas was the first time my family was invited to someone else’s home – my boyfriend’s – and it was a new experience. Especially for my parents, since they are used to taking on the host role, even when we’re in Africa. For context, my dad is a phenomenal cook and the most extraverted person I know, and so naturally he sort of leads any room he’s in. Nevertheless, I had a wonderful time and I’m blessed I got the opportunity to make those memories with my boyfriend and his family.
Long story short, I love my family and I wouldn’t change anything. Living in the United States has come with many blessings that my parents never would have experienced otherwise in South Africa. However, there will always be a sense of longing for my other family members – grieving a life I’ll never get to live.