From what I can remember, there has been one instance, one time, one place where I felt as if I truly belonged. This place was Turkey when I went to visit my family quite a few years back. I don’t recall the exact year; recalling my past is like my giving directions, I don’t know exact street names, or years, but I vividly remember landmarks, important moments, feelings, and the like. I guess my brain appoints a certain level of importance to different aspects of an experience, and thus appoints a certain level of specificity with which I remember and retell that story in the future…is it just me;)…there’s this weeks irrelevant window into the workings of my mind, you’re welcome. Just try having a conversation with me, and you’ll see the endless tangents that we will go off on, I dare ya.
Anyways, back to Turkey. For a little bit of relevant background, my father’s Kurdish from Turkey. I am thus half Kurdish. I, however, never really learned much Kurdish, or Turkish for that matter. I grew up in Southwest Michigan, and learned about Kurdish culture through visits from my family, my dad’s cooking, and his tellings of different Kurdish fables, some more useful than others.
Essentially, I had little direct relation to Kurdish or Turkish culture, but still have never felt as connected to a place than I did in Istanbul on that trip.
Here, in the US, I have observed people of certain cultures being drawn to one another, connecting through cultural references that they both understand, through music they can both remember…the list goes on, but it’s like finding a long lost relative who understands you on a different level than you can possibly find elsewhere. They know your roots, as you do theirs. They know that song you listened to as a child, that candy you love to have at family reunions, that story your father used to tell you before bed, that dinner you have every New Years, etc. They get you unlike anyone else possibly could.
Culture is such a big part of what defines an individual, and connecting with a place or person that has or has been brought up within that cultural pocket, that specific energy brings one back to one’s self. One’s self, or individuality is hard to define, hard to discover, but one’s culture is a part of one that is set, it is just known that that part of you provides some sense of definition, and in the uncertainty that is self-definition, which is so prevalent in one’s college years, it provides comfort, balance, and a sense of understanding to express and connect through one’s culture.
Now, quite honestly, I’ve found it very difficult to find that connection with anyone or anyplace outside of Turkey. The first reason for this probably being that I know so little Turkish or Kurdish with which to converse, and the second being that it’s rather seldom that I come across another Kurd from Turkey here in the US. Even if I did, however, I know so little of the language that relating would feel futile…or that’s how it seems…It’s almost as if I’ve grown up in an incredibly distinct culture that only I can relate to. But, maybe they’re out there, and I just haven’t been open or confident enough to connect with them, because I feel too “americanized” to have the right to relate to them on a cultural level…I’m not sure. I don’t know.
What I do know is that that basic, cultural connection is like no other you’ll find. Therein lies an essential connection to one’s roots, and in turn one’s self. I want to find that. So, I’m going to open myself up to the possibility of finding it, who knows who I may meet. Maybe I’ll find someone who knows, and understands my Kurdish roots, and can even further inform my current knowledge of our culture. We’ll see.
