Dear mum and dad,
Today I was at a stationary store, looking for a planner. While I was browsing the options, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder saying with a foreign accent: „Excuse me?“ When I turned around I saw an Asian woman, pointing at something on a piece of paper in her hand. I was almost annoyed at her and just when I was about to tell her that I do not work here, she asked: „What is ballpoint pen?“. I was irritated for a second and just said: “What?!” But then it dawned on me. She had her husband and her young daughter, maybe 6 years old, standing next to her, all three of them looking at me with a shy smile and desperation in their eyes. It looked like they were shopping for the daughter’s school supplies. I opened my bag, took out my own pen, held it up and clicked it a few times pointing at its tip. „This is a ballpoint pen“, I replied and gave her the biggest smile I could to reassure her. After a few confused looks at each other the mother seemed to understand, thanked me and walked off to find her daughter a ballpoint pen.
Remember when I was 6 years old, and we went shopping for my first grade school supplies?
I remember how difficult it was to understand all the unfamiliar words on the piece of paper that was given to us by my primary school. I remember how long it took us to find everything in the huge store with pens and papers that came in all shapes and sizes. I remember how relieved we were when we finally had everything together. But I also remember how embarrassed I felt on my first day of school when it turned out I did not in fact have all the correct supplies. How I was the only student, in a class full of Germans, who had not brought all the right pens and pencils and papers. I remember how I wished my parents weren’t foreign and knew all the things like all the other kids’ parents in my class.
I am sorry. I am sorry for all the times I felt embarrassed about your broken German and your foreign accent. I am sorry for all the times I yelled at you for packing me a Sucuk sandwich for lunch because all the kids made fun of me saying it smelled weird. I am sorry for all the times I got disappointed when you could not help me with my homework. I am sorry for all the times I got angry at you for not buying me a branded school backpack or the newest Nike sneakers. And I am sorry for never truly realising how hard all of this must have been – not just on me – but on you, too.
Ever since moving to Australia by myself, I have started to understand you more and more. I know, it is not the same. Because I am not considered an immigrant. I am considered an expat. I am the girl with the interesting accent, that nobody can quite figure out. People do not roll their eyes at me or start speaking louder as if I was stupid when I ask them to repeat what they said because I did not understand the first time. I am the girl with the adventurous story, not the one that poses a threat. I don’t look alien to them.
But still, I am different from them and every day has its struggles. It is not always easy fitting in, learning all the ins and outs of the country’s system, customs and everyday life. People here might be as “Western” as Germans but they are different in many ways. Each day feels like a linguistic and cultural minefield. I came here thinking my English is great, but there are so many words I do not understand, so many jokes that go above my head and so many references that I truly don’t get. My days are filled with a lot of awkward giggles and nods (and me having no clue what was said) or me saying something completely stupid because I thought it meant something else. They are filled with me trying to catch up to all the other people around me at work, constantly feeling like I have to put in twice the effort.
I understand now that moving to a new country by yourself and starting a new life takes guts. And more so, when you do it out of necessity, to take care of your family, to escape from horrors in your home country or to provide a better future for your kids. What is me not understanding a joke at work when you – and so many other people who have moved to a foreign country for the same reasons – had to completely start from scratch, not even being able to understand a single word of the language? Trying your best to fit into a society that was not waiting for you with open arms and was not interested in your story, but that belittled you and laughed at your different way of saying things.
I am in awe of how you mastered to speak the language, how you were able to feed four mouths, how you dealt with us never being content with what we had but always wanting more, how you didn’t let the belittlement of others get you down and how you kept fighting for us. Thank you for never giving up and giving us a better chance at life. I will not waste it.
Whenever I feel down because work has been overwhelming again or life feels tough, I will always remember what you had to go through so I could be here. I will remember that thanks to you I have had the luxury and privilege to travel to so many places, get to know people from different cultures and start a new life anywhere in the world – not because I had to – but simply because I wanted to.
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