Third Culture Kids

It’s a universal cliche that hard working people immigrate to give their kids a chance at a better life. The physical reality of immigration is reliably traumatic, especially during our parents’ generation, but that’s no effective deterrent for the parent who believes. In ones and twos and threes they set out on planes and boats and Nikes. Learning the essentials of English from phrasebooks and the slurs from alleyways or senior management. Sending a week’s food home in small change, paving the way for a relative to come and sleep in the same room.

The pain of relocation can manifest with such weight that the task of expressing how difficult one’s journey has been becomes just another hardship that’s best avoided. To many an immigrant child, the scars and pathologies of our parents are as unknowable as the rooms they were raised in or the way water tasted in the old country.

And now we lucky third culture kids persist in the first world. Equally acknowledging and participating in excess with every business hour and staring down the barrel of a century of climate consequence. Accepting the idiosyncrasies of our parents, unable to express our anxiety about the future lest it be compared to the pain of their past. We toy with the knowledge of our parents' sacrifice and pray for as clear a direction to point our own children.

Things are bad, but where could we move that’s better? And every day we stay here, the ocean becomes a little bit longer.

James Purnell Tran is a Narrm based media worker, best known for his documentary and photography work. He is the brother of Mai Hà Tran who previously contributed this piece to the writing corner. More of James' work can be found at @everything_jame and his website everythingjame.es