Who Am I?
"What is the appeal of Scottish identity?"
Wait, what's the hip response here? Am I supposed to reject this as lazy white co-optation of some nostalgic ancestral myth?
Or do I look, fairly, at my own cultural appropriations and recoveries? As a multi-ethnic individual, I myself have had to look at how well I've swum through the circumstances of American culture, all the while feeling like I don't really fit. Now, my journey has brought me to an understanding that I'll never fit, and maybe that I won't feel whole for a long time, or ever, but who am I to say that these folks aren't seizing on something real, or something that could be real?
One thing I will say is that if you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound. Loving your roots is awesome--just be ready to ask difficult questions. Just as I've dealt with the fact that Turkishness brings a certain amount of melancholy as well as tasty food and beautiful textiles (I'm boiling culture down to the Epcot sense here), take up your Irishness. Just realize that, for some, Irishness also means, yes, alcoholism, but also a lifetime of religious anxiety, among other dark legacies. And I love Scots; I married a part-Scot. But they're not just "freeeeeeedom," but also have a long history of, well, losing that freeeeeeeedom voluntarily and serving on the front line of Englishterror war againt Irish, Indians, you name it, really. Scots kick ass. And some times they kick their own ass, or anyone who's just standing there. And did I mention the tendency toward emotional burial and periodic explosions? (Irish get the same ones, oddly enough, and other sorts too.)
Anyway, as the holidays approach, I encourage all of you to know and love how awful your roots are. That's the game I've been playing for a long time, and I assure you--it leads to a deeper love, for them and for yourself.
Tartan, shortbread, haggis and whisky...
Some of the stereotypes might make the average Scot cringe.
However, when 47,000 people from at least 40 countries gathered for the world's largest clan gathering in Edinburgh in July, many revelled in such "traditional" offerings.
Among them were Americans, Canadians, Kiwis and Aussies, who donned tartan and blew pipes in an outpouring of national pride usually reserved for matches at Murrayfield....
"I don't know which area they belong to or which clan I'm from. It's like I'm missing part of who I am," says Mrs Dallimore, promising to revisit Scotland as soon as she learns her family name.
Wait, what's the hip response here? Am I supposed to reject this as lazy white co-optation of some nostalgic ancestral myth?
Or do I look, fairly, at my own cultural appropriations and recoveries? As a multi-ethnic individual, I myself have had to look at how well I've swum through the circumstances of American culture, all the while feeling like I don't really fit. Now, my journey has brought me to an understanding that I'll never fit, and maybe that I won't feel whole for a long time, or ever, but who am I to say that these folks aren't seizing on something real, or something that could be real?
One thing I will say is that if you're in for a penny, you're in for a pound. Loving your roots is awesome--just be ready to ask difficult questions. Just as I've dealt with the fact that Turkishness brings a certain amount of melancholy as well as tasty food and beautiful textiles (I'm boiling culture down to the Epcot sense here), take up your Irishness. Just realize that, for some, Irishness also means, yes, alcoholism, but also a lifetime of religious anxiety, among other dark legacies. And I love Scots; I married a part-Scot. But they're not just "freeeeeeedom," but also have a long history of, well, losing that freeeeeeeedom voluntarily and serving on the front line of English
Anyway, as the holidays approach, I encourage all of you to know and love how awful your roots are. That's the game I've been playing for a long time, and I assure you--it leads to a deeper love, for them and for yourself.
Labels: culture
posted by Cüneyt at 6:33 AM
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