The Born Identity: a conversation about identity and cultural backgrounds

Being the child of two generations of emigrants is not always easy, and it can sometimes pose challenges to the perception of one’s own identity. I have investigated these implications with my friend Basem, who was born in Milan, Italy, 24 years ago and is now finishing his master’s degree dissertation in History.

You were born in Italy, but what is the story of your family?
All my grandparents fled Palestine for Syria in 1948, with the declaration of the Israeli State. Coming from the same town in Palestine, they already knew each other before fleeing. Refugees from Palestine were hosted in refugee camps, which were makeshift buildings. Here, on the outskirts of Damascus, my dad was born and raised. My mother’s family lived in Damascus; my parents grew up knowing each other and got engaged and married in 1991. In the meanwhile, my dad had come to Italy in 1990, aiming to continue studying architecture. My mother then followed in 1993, having waited due to bureaucratic complications caused by the Gulf War. After their reunion in Milan, my sister was born in 1994 and I in 1996.

So, Palestine, Syria, and Italy all play a role in your and your family’s experiences. How would you define your identity?
When I was younger, I did not acknowledge my Arab identity, be it Palestinian or Syrian, and I identified only with my Italian one. It happened in part because I wanted to feel included and integrated in the society I was growing up in, and to do this I suppressed my Arab identity. I have avoided speaking Arabic in public for a long time, but now I have partially resolved this interior conflict, and my Arab identity has gradually emerged.
I do not usually distinguish between my Palestinian and Syrian identities; I tend to have a broader Arab horizon in which I cluster them both. But depending on the context I can feel more like one or the other.
On an empirical level, I have more links with Syria, as my grandparents still live there. But Palestinian refugees are not recognized as citizens in the Arab countries they fled to, except for Jordan. They therefore keep thinking of themselves as Palestinians, and so they are recognized as such by governments and society. So even if they were born and raised in Syria, my parents think of themselves as Palestinians, and they passed this to me.

Would you say you have a mixed identity, a prevalent identity, or separate identities?
I would say a mixed one, and my different identities emerge singularly depending on the context.

Do you ever feel like your identities clash with each other?
Yes. Less frequently as I have grown older, but it was more difficult as a child. Children exaggerate and everything feels more significant than it really is. Born and raised in Italy, I used to be extremely aware of the differences between my family and my Italian school friends’ ones. Sometimes I thought that my parents could not understand Italian dynamics and mentalities at all and vice versa. Not wanting to feel different, my coping mechanism was to suppress my Arab identity. It improved with time, as you rationalize things better and realize that there is a choice: you can decide to pick one identity and give up on the other, or, as in my case, to find a common ground.

Do you actively try to preserve your Arab identity? If so, with what activities?
I did not use to when I was younger. But once I realized that that identity was there, in me, I started to question myself about what a culture really is. Is it literature, the language, or what? I could speak Arabic, but I could not write, and I had never read anything about Arab literature or general culture. So I started asking myself: what entitles me to feel Arab? And these thoughts led me to start practicing Arabic and to choose to study History, specializing in Middle East and its relationships with Italy over the years. You see, my dad was born in Syria, and even if he is been living in Italy for many years, he is Arab, full stop. Whereas I am still exploring how I can embrace and assert my Arab identity, with what practices.

Do you feel in some way obliged to do so?
Sometimes. There is often pressure from society and your family. I think I have gone past that, but now I sometimes feel pressure from myself. It is not about being able to say: “I am Arab”, but about having to understand more and learn about my origins.

In your opinion, what are the pros and cons of having a mixed cultural background?
You have insights and knowledge about different cultures and a greater sensitivity towards their nuances. I notice things about Italian culture that Italian people do not think about, and the same with the Arab one. Being exposed to two different contexts, I can use tools from one culture in another.
But with this sensitivity, inevitably, come internal conflicts. Sometimes it can be an emotional rollercoaster.

My identities might not clash that much anymore, but it remains a dialectic relationship, one can prevail on the other. My identity is not fixed. It is constantly changing.