Third Culture Kid

Introduce myself? Talk a little about my self? My name is Sophia Merie Jenkins. I am 16 years old. I have four brothers and sisters. I love art, music and theater. I am from … The place I feel the most at home is… If I had to choose… I am … I am… I am a Third Culture Kid. 

Many of you have heard of this term before maybe even been called one yourself. A Third Culture Kid is an individual who has spent his or her development years in a culture other than that of their parents, resulting in integration of elements from both the host culture and parental culture into a third culture. 

Being a Third Culture Kid is more than a definition to me. They are my tribe. The place I belong. Being a Third Culture Kid is what made me who I am today. 

I have lived in Africa almost all my whole life. I knew Africa first. All my earliest memories are Africa. My first word, my first steps, our first house where I made mud pies in the drive way, my first day of school at Heritage International, the joining of Ethan, Ruth and Timothy to my family all happened in Africa. My childhood in Uganda and Rwanda is one I will never forget. 

The truth still remains that when I walk down the streets of Kigali I am still the muzungu, the outsider, the foreigner. African’s judge me automatically as someone who does not understand their way of life or culture. Some one who does not fit in their puzzle, the thing in the picture that does not belong. 

The United States is a place of family, friends and food. It means anticipation and excitement to have the luxuries I have not experienced in a couple years. However the truth still remains, that the U.S. sends me into culture shock. The U.S. is where I walk into Wal-Mart and can hardly think because I am so overwhelmed. I try and get a soda out of the vending machine and miserably fail. The U.S. is where my language and social behavior gets jumbled and confused.

The truth still remains that in the U.S. people assume because of my appearance and accent that I am like them. They do not understand that I am different. I have seen and experienced the beauty of Rwandan mountains, the ugliness of desperate poverty, the smell of eucalyptus burning, the brutality of war, and deep generosity of African people. I get frustrated that they can not understand my life in Africa. I try to explain it to them and soon give up, weary of the blank stares. I do not as hard as I try, fit into American society and way of life. The shape of my life with its jagged edges does not fit in the American puzzle. 

This is where I form my Third Culture, a mix between the culture my passport says is mine and the culture I have lived in for over 15 years of my life. Through my experiences I have developed a knowledgeable view of the world, of cross cultural awareness and sensitivity. My life has been has been a fantasy full of adventures.

I am a Third Culture Kid. The puzzle of a Third Culture Kid is the one I fit into perfectly. There are no rough spots around the edges, no places I have to squeeze or shove, I just belong.