[If you’re more of a watcher than a reader, there’s a video at the bottom of this post. You can also listen to it on the Pondering Purple podcast, HERE.]

When I was little, I’d snuggle up to my mom in the evenings and listen to her reading “Are You My Mother?”, attracted to the plight of the children’s book melancholy protagonist in a way I couldn’t fully comprehend. In the story, the baby bird falls out of his nest and wanders from cat to tractor to cow and car, repeating his increasingly urgent question: “Are you my mother?” 

Without realizing it, I identified with his pain. The sensation of lostness was all too familiar to me, even at that age.


When I saw a copy of the book in a store a few weeks ago, my instant reaction was an urge to reach through the glossy cover and comfort the hapless hero. I saw a bit of me in him—a lifetime spent wondering if new places and people groups would be my “mother,” my place of belonging and sameness.

In many respects, MKs are not much different from this forlorn feathered fellow. We hover between clusters of those who know their place and fit their social contexts, hoping that someone will want us or include us despite our difference. We try to be tough and endure it. We try to act like it doesn’t really matter. But we still live our lives in a more or less conscious pursuit of belonging.

“I will never belong” is a sentiment I’ve heard expressed with various degrees of rancor and drama in my nearly-thirty years of MK ministry. Of all the traits Third Culture Kids and MKs share, I think this one is among the most powerful.

It is born of multi-cultural, multi-national, multi-experiential and multi-identificational backgrounds that both expand our worlds and limit our full adaptation to any of them.

One of my first conscious thoughts about my TCK identity came at a young age, when I realized while on furlough that I’d never be fully American, and that the French would never consider me fully French, either. Weird in America. Weird in France. Is it any wonder that MK communities like Black Forest Academy become such a haven of sameness to MKs? 

Unfortunately, that level of identification can also set us up for a lifetime of discontent, because it is a sense of wholeness we may never know again.


Multi-cultural dwellers face three distinct options in their quest for belonging.

The first is to conform.
The second is to intentionally unconform.
The third is to straddle the cultural divide.

CONFORMING, in some ways, is the easiest option. MKs are fairly good at it, at least on a surface level. We’re observers by nature.  Whether it be trying out a new fast-food restaurant or voting in American elections for the first time, I still live by the old motto: watch first, act second. I’ll relinquish my place in line as often as I need to, until I’ve figured out how “normal” Americans do it and can proceed as they do.

[Note: our observational skills may look like indecision or reluctance to a mono-cultural observer…you may need to explain it!]

complete conformity is a more dangerous version of the classic MK ability to adapt. In this case, we’ll either consciously or subconsciously discard those parts of ourselves that link us to other cultures and modes of life in order to be fully American, fully European or fully Asian.

You’ll see this in the Rwandan MK who moves to the States and wears nothing but African garb as an outward sign of her allegiance to France. You’ll see it in the Turkish MK who refuses to return to his passport culture and stops using English—thereby losing contact with the North American branch of his family and identiy

The danger in full conformity is in what we have to relinquish to achieve it.

In order for me to have fully adapted to my French culture or to my American passport culture, for instance, I would have had to restrict my appearance, my political views, my gender-role opinions, my culinary tastes, my social behaviors and my taste in media to what that culture expected of me.

Once I was finished erasing the old and embracing the new, there would have been very little left of the richness of a multi-cultural upbringing: the broadened understanding, worldview and artistic/social/political pallet that is so unique and so prized. 

Conformity would have cost me every bit of the richness that can come from being an MK, but it would also have earned me a sense of belonging and sameness. For that sense, MKs are willing to sacrifice much.


UNCONFORMING is a fascinating phenomenon to me.  It goes something like this: “There’s no way I’m every going to fit in. People on both continents tell me I’m weird—weird in Brazil, weird in Canada… Well, let me show you weird.” And the MK sets out to be as odd as he/she can possibly be.

It’s a self-defense mechanism that has serious back-firing potential, but I can see its appeal. 

Whereas being the victim of our difference feels painful and unpredictable, being the architect of the difference gives us a sense of control. 

So we exaggerate our weirdness in order to call it a choice, not an affliction.

Sometimes it’s strange clothes, sometimes it’s eccentric behavior, sometimes it’s threatening attitudes, weird tastes or social misconduct. On some, it’s endearing, on others it’s off-putting. But to MKs whose identities have been shattered and rearranged without their volition, it’s a sense of finally being in control of how the world perceives them.

So when someone’s expression says “You’re weird,” they can pat themselves on the backs and consider it mission accomplished, because they’ve made “difference” a choice, not an affliction. 

But…they’ve made that illusive “belonging” even more impossible to achieve.


is probably the healthiest of the three “belonging” options, though it is certainly not the easiest. It requires that we celebrate “mostly-belonging.”

Straddling allows us to retain all those facets that lend depth and breadth to our identities while mostly adapting to the new places life takes us. In order to successfully straddle cultures, we’ll have to understand each of them, retaining those other-culture quirks that are acceptable in the place where we are and disengaging those that might be jarring or misunderstood by the “natives” around us—at least initially.

Straddling requires that we learn new ways of life…not as a rejection of what we’ve known before, but an expansion of our cultural arsenal. It is also a means of honoring the culture in which we’ve been planted.

Moving to Germany and not alienating our neighbors may require that we regularly sweep sidewalks that don’t need sweeping. Living in Republic of Congo may require more modest dress for women. Living in Russia may require a “bribe” column in our budgeting. You get the drift.

Mostly-belonging isn’t a repudiation of the multi-cultural aspects of our identities—it’s a thoughtful, intentional choice to connect to the culture we now live in without losing the other cultures we carry within us, because that’s what makes us unique, broad-minded, tolerant, chameleon-like and prized members of society.

As relationships deepen and our friends know us better, we’ll be able to broaden our expressions of multi-culturalism without alienating others. An initial carefulness and adherence to social norms will usually yield a more successful integration than, say, waving a Greek flag and refusing to eat anything but olives and feta! 


Straddling or mostly-belonging requires that we relinquish the baby bird’s dream of full, uncompromising sameness. As MKs, we’re actually healthier when we accept that we won’t ever be completely one or the other of our natures, when we acknowledge and celebrate those ways in which we can fit in, and when we set out to live enthusiastically in that space between belongings.

And in that, there is great joy and, yes, belonging.


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One Comment

    • Jody

    • 5 years ago

    Appreciate your talking about this. My two boys experienced it once again this summer while visiting in the States. Never totally American, Dutch or French. And what they spoke of this time was language skills. Their English seems wonderful in France. In the States, they felt self-conscious speaking it, noticing a difference between theirs and everyone else’s. Thank you for helping us to better understand our ways of dealing with this.

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