Dans le cadre d'une recherche universitaire, je m'immerge dans une bulle internationale qui ne m'est pas si étrangère...celle d'une école internationale privée...foyer d'enfants que l'on terme Third Culture Kids. Une bulle qui m'a enseigné sur la société, la hiérarchie, le respect, les différences culturelles, sociales, économiques...une bulle dont j'habitais sans vraiment le vouloir. Me sentant plus 'étrangère' que les "étrangers" que je côtoyais, dû à ma localité. Je n'étais, je ne suis pas, l'un d'entre 'eux'. Car mes racines, même si elles sont biculturelles et binationales, elles sont claires; je les ai vécu, je les vis au quotidien...je suis du coin, comme on dit. Mais je vivais mon écolage dans une bulle internationale, bien détachée de la localité que je pouvais ressentir et connaître...une schizophrénie au quotidien entre mon habitat et mon école.
I observed first-hand these Third Culture Kids; in their arrivals and their departures, in their cultural and linguistic struggles and their academic achievements, in their arrogance and in their appreciaiton, in their materialism and in their solitude, in their unconsolidated roots and in their blurred identity. Except when I was in this bubble, we had never herd of this term, Third Culture Kids. In fact, a lot of things weren't explained to us about the psychological or emotional experiences and struggles we may feel in being in a permanent transit zone.
I always thought I was utterly removed from this nébuleuse, that I was merely a passing observer yet I was wrong. In my naive youth, I thought things could merely be broken down into binaries; that it was simply an either/or situation...but with time, with increased transition and transiting...you realize that this bubble, these inhabitants of the bubble, myself, are a web of complexity; a multitude of layers that I'm only beginning to scratch the surface of...
...to be continued
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