I want to say that the thread of comments on this post are so rich and deep and beautiful. I'm in awe of all of you. Thank you for making this post more than I ever could have made it myself. Long live expating. Long live the love of our ancestors.
And you know what? Reverse expating is also hard. I am back in Germany after living abroad in the US, Wales and Canada. And now it also feels like I don’t fully belong here.
And this... this is the real truth. And this is why a sense of home and true belonging is elusive for so many who have lived this type of life. I can think that Germany WOULD be a tough readjustment in SO many ways after America. My husband still struggles some day (he feels caged in by the system, I think that's the best way to describe it - he's German but lived in the US and Canada for 12 years). I hear you. Thank you for commenting. I truly appreciated it.
Then you must exactly know how I feel! There are so many things I love about Germany over North America. Or more so about Europe. But what I miss the most is the friendliness, which is no surprise ;-) I also think that when you live abroad, you leave a piece of yourself there when you leave again. I don’t know that I will ever feel fully at home again anywhere. But that’s okay! My personality is now made up of so many different parts, I have immersed myself in so many different cultures.
Beautifully said. When we moved to Hamburg from the States, it took me a whole five years to regain my self esteem and become what I called, " militantly friendly" - meaning I was going to be friendly no matter how people reacted. It was a turning point for me in regaining my autonomy - and while I do miss friendliness in general here ( less in the south because people here are more apt to greet and smile), I'm much stronger knowing who I am has got nothing to do with who they are.
Home is such a deep and complicated subject and I feel compelled, after this comment thread, to wrote more about it. Danke, liebe Katharina. Ich wünsche dir ein schönes Wochenende 🧡
So true. And it doesn't take long. A year here and a year there and I can never forget the way my bones relaxed in Portugal or the smell of the everything of turn of the millennium Mumbai. It's true from region to region, too. Ten years in Maine has me waking up every day disoriented in Oregon.
Leela 🧡. You hit on something here - early morning expat disorientation! It's a thing! I wake up and often my first though is WHERE AM I? Bones relaxing -it's a luxury for this lifestyle, isn't it? Thank you for coming and commenting!
So true! I didn’t last long returning to my home country, it didn’t feel right anymore, sort of a culture whole of that makes sense. 17 months and I was off again.
Now enjoying being very settled in country number 6. Thanks for your words Diana, beautifully written and heartfelt. Walking in the shoes of the brave people who walked before us and gave us the opportunities we have today xx
Thank you, Julie, so much. It feel like this thread is just a shower of love on us all who have lived through the sense of alienation both abroad and at home. There are so many of us. And we are a growing group.
It seems so, it's great to see this acknowledged. It's easy to feel like it's just you! I make homes where ever I go. Homes where people are welcome. My people seldom come to my homes, except if they live close by. Other people come and we celebrate our uniqueness, share stories and enjoy each others company. Those people have experienced expat life and often felt disconnected. We pick up where we left off, no matter how long it's been. A gift.
Ah, this hit home. So beautifully written, Diana, thank you!
I have lived in several countries and I so much understand of not belonging anywhere completely, any more. Or, on a more positive note, having many homes... with every visit I go home and then I return home, too :)
But the truth is, the older I get, the more I miss my "original" home, the sounds, the sun, the architecture, the way people communicate... although so much has actually changed there, too...
I remember how one of my great aunts who moved to the USA to be there with her daughter and take care of the grandchildren, by the end of her life more than anything just wanted to go back to Croatia and die at her home. So strong was the longing for the place where she grew up, even though she lived at many different places and countries throughout her life. And she did it, she returned home with the last of her strength. I can understand her now more than I could ever before.
And when the rain can't seem to stop and the grey, wet and cold Belgian weather drags on, I so much miss the warmth of my home, my sun and the sea. Luckily, in a few weeks I will be on my way there and will then, probably, be complaining about the unbearable heat :)
I love what you wrote here. It's just all so true. Every move is packed, not only with belongings, but also with emotions and feelings and joy and pain. Unpacking those things is something that takes time and reflection. I'm so happy your great aunt got her wish. 🧡
Loved this look into your experience and family! My family’s immigrant experience is similar. My great grandfather emigrated from Sicily, was illiterate in both Italian and English, and fought for the US in WW1. I can’t imagine.
There’s a great podcast out right now called “Pack One Bag” about a Jewish-Italian family fleeing to Paris and then the US during Mussolini’s regime.
Diana, this was just beautiful. A feast of words. I especially loved:
"You cannot become what you never were."
"There are edges and off-key tones of expat life that scrape the soul like falling off a bike on a gravel road."
"How did it feel, Nonna, with a baby in your belly on a boat by yourself? I wish I could just hold you and comfort you and let you rest." This one really got me. I could just feel your love and longing.
"I tell my new car to fuck off, because it’s my life, Jon Bon Jovi just told me so, and this is what it takes to remember who I am." This one made me laugh but was also so starkly real and raw. Love that juxtaposition of emotions, almost like a slap that last phrase. In a good way. ;)
You brought tears to my eyes today, Diana. Thank you for this beautiful testament to your family and all the humans who have struggled to make a life -- and to all the humans who see that struggle and honor it with their own freedom. ❤️🙏
Oh, Jocelyn, this is so kind of you. Thank you for sharing your close reading. It makes me understand my own words even more. Thank you. From my heart.
Wheee! It's delightful to see you here, Emily! There were so many gorgeous bits and the whole was just so moving. The feelings of groundedness and also longing and uprootedness throughout were so well balanced.
Hi Diana, your words are so tender and sensitive to your ancestors. Our story is like yours, one of good fortune, not necessity. My husband and I (now 73 and 70) just bought a home in the countryside north of Florence (our address is Pistoia, Italy) in February, a dream of ours for almost 20 years. But as you have said, living in Italy (or likely any foreign country) is not like vacationing in Italy! On holiday, you don't have to set up internet, utilities, bank accounts and manage plumbers, electricians and broken appliances in a foreign language. (One day we will so appreciate this!) We spent 7 weeks and it reminded me of having my first newborn, blissfully in love with our home and Italy and pinching ourselves that we actually made this happen. Just like a new baby, it is a new life within us. But like the sleepless nights, the not knowing what to do when the baby won't stop crying because the baby speaks its own language, the exhaustion, the amount of time a newborn requires, managing the nursing...all this...felt like setting up a life in Italy. Not to mention praying for the Visas, permits to stay, residency applications, attorneys and accountants to set up my work in Italy. Why this self-flagellation and punishment?! Because we are compelled to grow. Because it is Italy and all that we love about it. The natural beauty that is everywhere, the people, the built landscapes like Rome and Florence, the art that belongs to everyone, the myths passed down through the generations, the culture of family, the innocence of the Italian children, the meals in a restaurant without cell phones, a health care system that is humane, the quality of the food, certainly the cost of living. And because the United States has become a place I don't know anymore. And it makes me sad. Especially for my 93-year old mom who loves her country deeply but now feels afraid of what is happening in the US. So, we make our homes where we find them. So many of us are nomads today. I have live in at least 28 different homes SINCE I left college in 1975. I love to make a home and eventually made it my work as an interior designer. It doesn't matter where I am; I will find beauty (as it is meaningful to me) and a way to make a place true unto itself. And yet, the older I get, the more clearly I understand we carry this within us, less and less tethered to the material world. Godspeed on all your journeys!
Alecia, thank you for your beautiful comment and congratulations on making your dream become a reality. It's full of hurdles and obstacles, I know. But it is a growth path like no other. Etruscan Italy is amazingly rich. It's a very special part of the country. And the US has become unrecognizable in so many ways - the actual reason behind this reverse immigration. So much to learn here. Thank you for coming and commenting 🧡
This resonated really deeply. My Italian great-grandparents also came from Emilia-Romagna, same timeframe but a few years earlier. I often think about what my great-grandfather, Arsenio, would think now of me trying to get Italian citizenship so I can move to the country he left over a hundred years ago. It's a really weird mind warp. I think of how he and his wife, Emeline, didn't teach their children Italian so that they'd be truly 'American' and how I now work on learning Italian in my spare time. I think of how me, with my highly Italian name, are more ethnically Slavic than anything else. I have no answers, but thought your piece articulated this construct very well.
So many parallels, Marissa. My parents did not teach my sister and I Italian because they were so humiliated to not understand English when they entered school. It's a definite mind-warp, and a true indication of how everything has changed globally. Thank you for your presence here ❤️
Yes, my father’s parents would not teach him Italian either as they were ridiculed in school for not being able to read or write English.
I too am working on my Italian Citizenship, but running into issues with my grandfather’s birth certificate as Louisiana did not begin to keep consistent records until after 1911 and he was born in 1904. I have his actual baptism certificate- the church of course kept records.
Diana- wow. I echo all the above and— hells to the yes !!!to you singing in your car— that makes me so happy. The first essay of yours I read was about your car and this feels full circle to me now that I have heard the music in your speaking voice and in your stunning writing. And you in your car, while nowhere quite home, seems very much home in yourself. What a legacy your grandparents gave you.
God Emily! You and your close readings! Yes! The car is just that. I mean for Americans, I think, the car has a very special context that has to do with freedom and independence. That's just a fact ( OK not great for the environment, not sustainable,and it's a little fucked up as a symbol because of those things). And I am the girl/woman in the car. And will be for as long as I can. Love you girl! 🧡🧡🧡
Well done as usual Diana! Since I never really felt I belonged in the U.S. being an immigrant in Portugal isn’t that much of a stretch on the not fitting in scale😆. Even after 3 ½ years here and pretty much taking classes for 3 of those years I still struggle with learning the language. Nothing seems to stick in my brain. Goes in then right out again. Ugh. But I wouldn’t want to go back to my homeland to live. Too much has changed on too many levels.
Can’t believe we haven’t connected yet. I’ll take all responsibility for that. But I shall rectify the situation soon. Sending love and wishing you both a happy anniversary again❤️❤️❤️
Let's make up for lost time soon. We would love to see you and miss you so much. Portugal pros: all the things. Portugal cons: even the thought of learning the language would give me a nervous breakdown 😂
Very interesting. I think because the U.S. is and always been a net immigration country, something about leaving it feels wrong. I left for Sweden in 2019 because my life wasn’t working and that it wasn’t my America anymore. I think about these questions of cultural identity all the time.
Yes - net immigration country coupled with the fact that most Americans simply reject out of hand the idea that life can be better anywhere, ever. It makes the US insufferable.
I met my husband at Ikea. He was sent by the company to open the first US store and I was one of the first people hired by Ikea in the US. Sweden played a huge roll in changing my world view. We still have very close Swedish friends and travel there occasionally. 🧡
My daughter (who is 26) is leaving the US for Sweden in August, to join her Swedish husband. I understand all her reasons for doing so and every one of them breaks my heart. Whenever I "see" someone who has done what she's about to do, I want to know everything about how it has been for them. Appreciate even this small snippet.
I empathize with your heartbreak. It's very hard. But I can promise you it's a beautiful, safe country and there's no better place to raise kids, if that's what they are planning. I don't usually sell myself in comments, but I invite you to take a look at my Stack, which is all about U.S. v. Sweden. Onward!
I will check it out! Thank you. I know she's going to a beautiful place, and I love her husband, and I'm so grateful she has this option. I'm grateful for all the ways in which communication and travel are so different now than they were for my great-grandparents, who truly left almost everything behind when they immigrated. AND, there is still profound loss waiting for all of us. I'm trying hard to acknowledge all of it. Maybe loss is always part of growth?
How strange — I clicked on your essay because I may well become an expat for the third time in my life. You speak so cogently about the belonging thing — it’s one reason why I came back to New York a few years ago: I’m fluent in New York.
Anyway the odd thing is that my ancestors — some of them — came from Genoa to New York, too! A little bit before yours did.
And I always wanted to live in the Black Forest in Germany.
Oh I hope your third expat experience will be wonderful! You've surely built a strong set of adjustment and coping skills which will help so much. I'm happy I've been able to get to know the city of Genoa well; I feel an immense connection to that place because of my family history. It's a remarkable city. The Black Forest is an incredible place to live. It's hard to express its richness and beauty. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, Susan. 🧡🧡🧡
I’m meeting so many Italo Americans and Canadians on this cruise who are reconnecting with their families who left 2 generations ago… so many who never learned Italian but want that connection . Some heartbreaking stories and hardships so the new generation could integrate and make better , easier lives.
Thank you for this beautiful share Diana. What a rich family history, packed with so many beautiful insights and pockets of joy. I have been living as an immigrant in Montreal Canada for more than 17 years and describe my state as “neither here (in Canada), nor there (Hungary, my birthplace)”. I honestly don’t know where I belong to. I speak six languages, but my favourite language (Italian) still needs a lot of perfection. Perhaps this is why I write..? To find myself through words. And perhaps this is why I can relate to so much you mentioned here. Being an immigrant/ expat is not easy, but sure has many gifts too! Grazie mille!
Imola, I love your writing from Jeannine's writing challenges and am astounded with what clarity you express yourself in the English language.
The Italian language is my third - I plan to start with lessons to get me to C1 intermediate fluency. That's my goal. I also love the language so much.
The Neither Here nor There Club! I think that would be perfect 🧡🧡🧡
Beautiful Diana! Your words deeply moved me, especially the story about your family friend, the horse teacher. My grandparents and parents came to Germany from Turkey and Greece as guest workers, hoping for a better life. However, the hardships they faced in this country were heartbreaking. My dad often tells the story of how, on his second day at just 16 years old, his German neighbour spat on his face and told him to go back home. Only one story of many, most of which they buried in their hearts, never talking about it.
My parents left Germany a couple of years ago and decided to split their time between Greece and Turkey. Unfortunately, my grandparents were not as fortunate. They never realized the dream of returning to their country to enjoy their last years in their homeland. Like your horse-riding teacher friend, they worked tirelessly for years, enduring racism daily, to provide a better life for their children and grandchildren. Sadly, they both passed away at a young age. It's heartbreaking to witness how, despite the contributions of my grandparents and parents in building this country, it's becoming increasingly right wing and unsafe against anyone who doesn't fit their definition of being German. It feels as if my grandparents' lives never mattered.
Oh Tugba, what a comment. What a story. Thar first generation of guest workers into Germany - I cannot even imagine the bigotry they faced from the old Nazi generation. I understand your parents and their choice to go back. But what your grandparents did was not in vain, because I believe you are a citizen of the world as a result, able to grasp and understand things well beyond that of many people. So that is your rich inheritance. Living it to the fullest is the best way to honor the beautiful people that were your grandparents. BTW - the horse trainer was my grandfather. 🧡 sending love to you.
Bravo, what a great reminder of what our relatives faced and put up with to give us choice. My grandmother came over on a ship at four. My grandfather was born a year or so after his parents arrived. They grew up in the Little Italy neighborhood of New Orleans (Lakeview) and were farmers until one year all of their crops flooded over and my grandfather had to go work at a macaroni factory and my grandmother in the mail department at Maison Blanche even though she could not read or write English. They were ridiculed in schools and called WOPs (without papers). Yet they worked, owned real estate, rented rooms to Jazz musicians and cooked the most delicious Italian dishes with “red Gravy” as they called it.
My dad was the first one in Little Italy to graduate from High School and everyone in the neighborhood pitched in to buy him a gold and diamond ring which I wear today. He joined the army, graduated college while waiting tables and supporting my older siblings and became a chemist and lived until 91. I had both the privilege of my grandparents love and my father as an inspiration and feel grateful for it. And although I love Italy, when we are not in the US, we spend our time in Portugal enjoying a more simple life that I wish they all could have experienced.
So I learned something from you. WOP. Without papers. That answers something for me. I remember telling my maternal grandfather I had been called a wop in school and he became viscerally upset. This was the grandfather who came to New Orleans illegally on a boat in my post. I never knew the meaning behind this slur. Thank you. My God. There's enough information and history in this thread to write a book!
Yes, I hadn’t known the meaning of the term WOP until a few years ago when my friend the author Elisa Speranza (The Italian Prisoner based on a true story of Italian POWs marrying young Italian American women in New Orleans) shared it with me.
In New Orleans there was this fast track process to bring people over from Sicily from the U.S. I found this book called Bread and Respect (sounds like the authors were copying Puzo - lol) that said Louisiana created its own department of immigration in response to the Louisiana Sugar Planters need for labor. Estimates are that nearly 100,000 Italian Immigrants arrived at the port of New Orleans before The U.S. immigration act of 1924 ended this process. I saw a chart once that showed as a percentage of immigration, the Sicily to New Orleans is one of the largest migrations in our country’s history.
Diana, yes, I see a book in the making - the stories of our ancestors paired with our current story and desire to reverse migrate. With your gorgeous writing, it would be wonderful.
Beautifully expressed and imagined. Living abroad by choice has its challenges but it's a choice driven by desires and curiosity. I am always reminded of that when I cross paths with people escaping war and oppression.
That's very true, Lisa and that thought is what we expats need to remember when it feels so tough. Curiosity is what makes it worthwhile. Thank you for commenting 🧡❤️🧡
I want to say that the thread of comments on this post are so rich and deep and beautiful. I'm in awe of all of you. Thank you for making this post more than I ever could have made it myself. Long live expating. Long live the love of our ancestors.
And you know what? Reverse expating is also hard. I am back in Germany after living abroad in the US, Wales and Canada. And now it also feels like I don’t fully belong here.
And this... this is the real truth. And this is why a sense of home and true belonging is elusive for so many who have lived this type of life. I can think that Germany WOULD be a tough readjustment in SO many ways after America. My husband still struggles some day (he feels caged in by the system, I think that's the best way to describe it - he's German but lived in the US and Canada for 12 years). I hear you. Thank you for commenting. I truly appreciated it.
Then you must exactly know how I feel! There are so many things I love about Germany over North America. Or more so about Europe. But what I miss the most is the friendliness, which is no surprise ;-) I also think that when you live abroad, you leave a piece of yourself there when you leave again. I don’t know that I will ever feel fully at home again anywhere. But that’s okay! My personality is now made up of so many different parts, I have immersed myself in so many different cultures.
Beautifully said. When we moved to Hamburg from the States, it took me a whole five years to regain my self esteem and become what I called, " militantly friendly" - meaning I was going to be friendly no matter how people reacted. It was a turning point for me in regaining my autonomy - and while I do miss friendliness in general here ( less in the south because people here are more apt to greet and smile), I'm much stronger knowing who I am has got nothing to do with who they are.
Home is such a deep and complicated subject and I feel compelled, after this comment thread, to wrote more about it. Danke, liebe Katharina. Ich wünsche dir ein schönes Wochenende 🧡
Dir auch ein schönes Wochenende :)
So true. And it doesn't take long. A year here and a year there and I can never forget the way my bones relaxed in Portugal or the smell of the everything of turn of the millennium Mumbai. It's true from region to region, too. Ten years in Maine has me waking up every day disoriented in Oregon.
Leela 🧡. You hit on something here - early morning expat disorientation! It's a thing! I wake up and often my first though is WHERE AM I? Bones relaxing -it's a luxury for this lifestyle, isn't it? Thank you for coming and commenting!
So true! I didn’t last long returning to my home country, it didn’t feel right anymore, sort of a culture whole of that makes sense. 17 months and I was off again.
Now enjoying being very settled in country number 6. Thanks for your words Diana, beautifully written and heartfelt. Walking in the shoes of the brave people who walked before us and gave us the opportunities we have today xx
Thank you, Julie, so much. It feel like this thread is just a shower of love on us all who have lived through the sense of alienation both abroad and at home. There are so many of us. And we are a growing group.
It seems so, it's great to see this acknowledged. It's easy to feel like it's just you! I make homes where ever I go. Homes where people are welcome. My people seldom come to my homes, except if they live close by. Other people come and we celebrate our uniqueness, share stories and enjoy each others company. Those people have experienced expat life and often felt disconnected. We pick up where we left off, no matter how long it's been. A gift.
Culture shock
This is so true. I feel like I don't belong anywhere now. It's such a tough truth.
You belong with everyone on this thread. A band of brave ones, we are 🧡
🫶🥹 we sure are.
Reverse expating! So true!
So true, right?!?
Ah, this hit home. So beautifully written, Diana, thank you!
I have lived in several countries and I so much understand of not belonging anywhere completely, any more. Or, on a more positive note, having many homes... with every visit I go home and then I return home, too :)
But the truth is, the older I get, the more I miss my "original" home, the sounds, the sun, the architecture, the way people communicate... although so much has actually changed there, too...
I remember how one of my great aunts who moved to the USA to be there with her daughter and take care of the grandchildren, by the end of her life more than anything just wanted to go back to Croatia and die at her home. So strong was the longing for the place where she grew up, even though she lived at many different places and countries throughout her life. And she did it, she returned home with the last of her strength. I can understand her now more than I could ever before.
And when the rain can't seem to stop and the grey, wet and cold Belgian weather drags on, I so much miss the warmth of my home, my sun and the sea. Luckily, in a few weeks I will be on my way there and will then, probably, be complaining about the unbearable heat :)
I love what you wrote here. It's just all so true. Every move is packed, not only with belongings, but also with emotions and feelings and joy and pain. Unpacking those things is something that takes time and reflection. I'm so happy your great aunt got her wish. 🧡
Loved this look into your experience and family! My family’s immigrant experience is similar. My great grandfather emigrated from Sicily, was illiterate in both Italian and English, and fought for the US in WW1. I can’t imagine.
There’s a great podcast out right now called “Pack One Bag” about a Jewish-Italian family fleeing to Paris and then the US during Mussolini’s regime.
Thank you dear Jennifer. Oh, that podcast sounds very interesting.
Sounds like our ancestors have a lot in common. Thank you for the podcast recommendation.
That sounds really interesting! I’m going to look up that podcast now, Jennifer! Thank you for sharing
Diana, this was just beautiful. A feast of words. I especially loved:
"You cannot become what you never were."
"There are edges and off-key tones of expat life that scrape the soul like falling off a bike on a gravel road."
"How did it feel, Nonna, with a baby in your belly on a boat by yourself? I wish I could just hold you and comfort you and let you rest." This one really got me. I could just feel your love and longing.
"I tell my new car to fuck off, because it’s my life, Jon Bon Jovi just told me so, and this is what it takes to remember who I am." This one made me laugh but was also so starkly real and raw. Love that juxtaposition of emotions, almost like a slap that last phrase. In a good way. ;)
You brought tears to my eyes today, Diana. Thank you for this beautiful testament to your family and all the humans who have struggled to make a life -- and to all the humans who see that struggle and honor it with their own freedom. ❤️🙏
Oh, Jocelyn, this is so kind of you. Thank you for sharing your close reading. It makes me understand my own words even more. Thank you. From my heart.
You are so welcome and I love that it gave you a new or more understanding. I love having close reads of my work. They are so illuminating. ❤️❤️❤️
Jocelyn and I had the same experience reading this— I cried too! And you captured some of the gorgeous bits that set me off. Yes!
Wheee! It's delightful to see you here, Emily! There were so many gorgeous bits and the whole was just so moving. The feelings of groundedness and also longing and uprootedness throughout were so well balanced.
….and you just described Diana! ( happy to see your familiar face here, too. )💜
Hi Diana, your words are so tender and sensitive to your ancestors. Our story is like yours, one of good fortune, not necessity. My husband and I (now 73 and 70) just bought a home in the countryside north of Florence (our address is Pistoia, Italy) in February, a dream of ours for almost 20 years. But as you have said, living in Italy (or likely any foreign country) is not like vacationing in Italy! On holiday, you don't have to set up internet, utilities, bank accounts and manage plumbers, electricians and broken appliances in a foreign language. (One day we will so appreciate this!) We spent 7 weeks and it reminded me of having my first newborn, blissfully in love with our home and Italy and pinching ourselves that we actually made this happen. Just like a new baby, it is a new life within us. But like the sleepless nights, the not knowing what to do when the baby won't stop crying because the baby speaks its own language, the exhaustion, the amount of time a newborn requires, managing the nursing...all this...felt like setting up a life in Italy. Not to mention praying for the Visas, permits to stay, residency applications, attorneys and accountants to set up my work in Italy. Why this self-flagellation and punishment?! Because we are compelled to grow. Because it is Italy and all that we love about it. The natural beauty that is everywhere, the people, the built landscapes like Rome and Florence, the art that belongs to everyone, the myths passed down through the generations, the culture of family, the innocence of the Italian children, the meals in a restaurant without cell phones, a health care system that is humane, the quality of the food, certainly the cost of living. And because the United States has become a place I don't know anymore. And it makes me sad. Especially for my 93-year old mom who loves her country deeply but now feels afraid of what is happening in the US. So, we make our homes where we find them. So many of us are nomads today. I have live in at least 28 different homes SINCE I left college in 1975. I love to make a home and eventually made it my work as an interior designer. It doesn't matter where I am; I will find beauty (as it is meaningful to me) and a way to make a place true unto itself. And yet, the older I get, the more clearly I understand we carry this within us, less and less tethered to the material world. Godspeed on all your journeys!
Alecia, thank you for your beautiful comment and congratulations on making your dream become a reality. It's full of hurdles and obstacles, I know. But it is a growth path like no other. Etruscan Italy is amazingly rich. It's a very special part of the country. And the US has become unrecognizable in so many ways - the actual reason behind this reverse immigration. So much to learn here. Thank you for coming and commenting 🧡
This resonated really deeply. My Italian great-grandparents also came from Emilia-Romagna, same timeframe but a few years earlier. I often think about what my great-grandfather, Arsenio, would think now of me trying to get Italian citizenship so I can move to the country he left over a hundred years ago. It's a really weird mind warp. I think of how he and his wife, Emeline, didn't teach their children Italian so that they'd be truly 'American' and how I now work on learning Italian in my spare time. I think of how me, with my highly Italian name, are more ethnically Slavic than anything else. I have no answers, but thought your piece articulated this construct very well.
So many parallels, Marissa. My parents did not teach my sister and I Italian because they were so humiliated to not understand English when they entered school. It's a definite mind-warp, and a true indication of how everything has changed globally. Thank you for your presence here ❤️
Yes, my father’s parents would not teach him Italian either as they were ridiculed in school for not being able to read or write English.
I too am working on my Italian Citizenship, but running into issues with my grandfather’s birth certificate as Louisiana did not begin to keep consistent records until after 1911 and he was born in 1904. I have his actual baptism certificate- the church of course kept records.
Diana- wow. I echo all the above and— hells to the yes !!!to you singing in your car— that makes me so happy. The first essay of yours I read was about your car and this feels full circle to me now that I have heard the music in your speaking voice and in your stunning writing. And you in your car, while nowhere quite home, seems very much home in yourself. What a legacy your grandparents gave you.
God Emily! You and your close readings! Yes! The car is just that. I mean for Americans, I think, the car has a very special context that has to do with freedom and independence. That's just a fact ( OK not great for the environment, not sustainable,and it's a little fucked up as a symbol because of those things). And I am the girl/woman in the car. And will be for as long as I can. Love you girl! 🧡🧡🧡
💜💜💜💜
Well done as usual Diana! Since I never really felt I belonged in the U.S. being an immigrant in Portugal isn’t that much of a stretch on the not fitting in scale😆. Even after 3 ½ years here and pretty much taking classes for 3 of those years I still struggle with learning the language. Nothing seems to stick in my brain. Goes in then right out again. Ugh. But I wouldn’t want to go back to my homeland to live. Too much has changed on too many levels.
Can’t believe we haven’t connected yet. I’ll take all responsibility for that. But I shall rectify the situation soon. Sending love and wishing you both a happy anniversary again❤️❤️❤️
Let's make up for lost time soon. We would love to see you and miss you so much. Portugal pros: all the things. Portugal cons: even the thought of learning the language would give me a nervous breakdown 😂
You are so inspiring. I’m even writing a post. Don’t know if I will ever publish it but you are inspiring me!
You go girl. You have such a story to tell. Look where you came from and where you are. You’re brave. And determined. Mwah.
Very interesting. I think because the U.S. is and always been a net immigration country, something about leaving it feels wrong. I left for Sweden in 2019 because my life wasn’t working and that it wasn’t my America anymore. I think about these questions of cultural identity all the time.
Yes - net immigration country coupled with the fact that most Americans simply reject out of hand the idea that life can be better anywhere, ever. It makes the US insufferable.
I met my husband at Ikea. He was sent by the company to open the first US store and I was one of the first people hired by Ikea in the US. Sweden played a huge roll in changing my world view. We still have very close Swedish friends and travel there occasionally. 🧡
What a cool story! Look me up next time you’re here. But hurry up — winter is coming…
😂😂😂 midsommar's over...
My daughter (who is 26) is leaving the US for Sweden in August, to join her Swedish husband. I understand all her reasons for doing so and every one of them breaks my heart. Whenever I "see" someone who has done what she's about to do, I want to know everything about how it has been for them. Appreciate even this small snippet.
I empathize with your heartbreak. It's very hard. But I can promise you it's a beautiful, safe country and there's no better place to raise kids, if that's what they are planning. I don't usually sell myself in comments, but I invite you to take a look at my Stack, which is all about U.S. v. Sweden. Onward!
I will check it out! Thank you. I know she's going to a beautiful place, and I love her husband, and I'm so grateful she has this option. I'm grateful for all the ways in which communication and travel are so different now than they were for my great-grandparents, who truly left almost everything behind when they immigrated. AND, there is still profound loss waiting for all of us. I'm trying hard to acknowledge all of it. Maybe loss is always part of growth?
How strange — I clicked on your essay because I may well become an expat for the third time in my life. You speak so cogently about the belonging thing — it’s one reason why I came back to New York a few years ago: I’m fluent in New York.
Anyway the odd thing is that my ancestors — some of them — came from Genoa to New York, too! A little bit before yours did.
And I always wanted to live in the Black Forest in Germany.
Small world!
Oh I hope your third expat experience will be wonderful! You've surely built a strong set of adjustment and coping skills which will help so much. I'm happy I've been able to get to know the city of Genoa well; I feel an immense connection to that place because of my family history. It's a remarkable city. The Black Forest is an incredible place to live. It's hard to express its richness and beauty. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, Susan. 🧡🧡🧡
Lovely piece,thank you Diana, I found tears rolling down my cheeks
Thank you so so much for telling me that, Mary Jane. It's a very visceral and personal subject, how we each live with the lives we've created here. 🧡
I’m meeting so many Italo Americans and Canadians on this cruise who are reconnecting with their families who left 2 generations ago… so many who never learned Italian but want that connection . Some heartbreaking stories and hardships so the new generation could integrate and make better , easier lives.
Wonderful. Just wonderful.
Thank you for this beautiful share Diana. What a rich family history, packed with so many beautiful insights and pockets of joy. I have been living as an immigrant in Montreal Canada for more than 17 years and describe my state as “neither here (in Canada), nor there (Hungary, my birthplace)”. I honestly don’t know where I belong to. I speak six languages, but my favourite language (Italian) still needs a lot of perfection. Perhaps this is why I write..? To find myself through words. And perhaps this is why I can relate to so much you mentioned here. Being an immigrant/ expat is not easy, but sure has many gifts too! Grazie mille!
Imola, I love your writing from Jeannine's writing challenges and am astounded with what clarity you express yourself in the English language.
The Italian language is my third - I plan to start with lessons to get me to C1 intermediate fluency. That's my goal. I also love the language so much.
The Neither Here nor There Club! I think that would be perfect 🧡🧡🧡
Beautiful Diana! Your words deeply moved me, especially the story about your family friend, the horse teacher. My grandparents and parents came to Germany from Turkey and Greece as guest workers, hoping for a better life. However, the hardships they faced in this country were heartbreaking. My dad often tells the story of how, on his second day at just 16 years old, his German neighbour spat on his face and told him to go back home. Only one story of many, most of which they buried in their hearts, never talking about it.
My parents left Germany a couple of years ago and decided to split their time between Greece and Turkey. Unfortunately, my grandparents were not as fortunate. They never realized the dream of returning to their country to enjoy their last years in their homeland. Like your horse-riding teacher friend, they worked tirelessly for years, enduring racism daily, to provide a better life for their children and grandchildren. Sadly, they both passed away at a young age. It's heartbreaking to witness how, despite the contributions of my grandparents and parents in building this country, it's becoming increasingly right wing and unsafe against anyone who doesn't fit their definition of being German. It feels as if my grandparents' lives never mattered.
Oh Tugba, what a comment. What a story. Thar first generation of guest workers into Germany - I cannot even imagine the bigotry they faced from the old Nazi generation. I understand your parents and their choice to go back. But what your grandparents did was not in vain, because I believe you are a citizen of the world as a result, able to grasp and understand things well beyond that of many people. So that is your rich inheritance. Living it to the fullest is the best way to honor the beautiful people that were your grandparents. BTW - the horse trainer was my grandfather. 🧡 sending love to you.
Oh, thank you, Diana, for sharing your story 🖤
Bravo, what a great reminder of what our relatives faced and put up with to give us choice. My grandmother came over on a ship at four. My grandfather was born a year or so after his parents arrived. They grew up in the Little Italy neighborhood of New Orleans (Lakeview) and were farmers until one year all of their crops flooded over and my grandfather had to go work at a macaroni factory and my grandmother in the mail department at Maison Blanche even though she could not read or write English. They were ridiculed in schools and called WOPs (without papers). Yet they worked, owned real estate, rented rooms to Jazz musicians and cooked the most delicious Italian dishes with “red Gravy” as they called it.
My dad was the first one in Little Italy to graduate from High School and everyone in the neighborhood pitched in to buy him a gold and diamond ring which I wear today. He joined the army, graduated college while waiting tables and supporting my older siblings and became a chemist and lived until 91. I had both the privilege of my grandparents love and my father as an inspiration and feel grateful for it. And although I love Italy, when we are not in the US, we spend our time in Portugal enjoying a more simple life that I wish they all could have experienced.
So I learned something from you. WOP. Without papers. That answers something for me. I remember telling my maternal grandfather I had been called a wop in school and he became viscerally upset. This was the grandfather who came to New Orleans illegally on a boat in my post. I never knew the meaning behind this slur. Thank you. My God. There's enough information and history in this thread to write a book!
Yes, I hadn’t known the meaning of the term WOP until a few years ago when my friend the author Elisa Speranza (The Italian Prisoner based on a true story of Italian POWs marrying young Italian American women in New Orleans) shared it with me.
In New Orleans there was this fast track process to bring people over from Sicily from the U.S. I found this book called Bread and Respect (sounds like the authors were copying Puzo - lol) that said Louisiana created its own department of immigration in response to the Louisiana Sugar Planters need for labor. Estimates are that nearly 100,000 Italian Immigrants arrived at the port of New Orleans before The U.S. immigration act of 1924 ended this process. I saw a chart once that showed as a percentage of immigration, the Sicily to New Orleans is one of the largest migrations in our country’s history.
Diana, yes, I see a book in the making - the stories of our ancestors paired with our current story and desire to reverse migrate. With your gorgeous writing, it would be wonderful.
Thanks everyone for sharing your stories.
I never knew the meaning behind WOP. I always thought it was an Americanized version of an Italian word.
I thought something similar. This thread is golden!
Beautifully expressed and imagined. Living abroad by choice has its challenges but it's a choice driven by desires and curiosity. I am always reminded of that when I cross paths with people escaping war and oppression.
That's very true, Lisa and that thought is what we expats need to remember when it feels so tough. Curiosity is what makes it worthwhile. Thank you for commenting 🧡❤️🧡