June 23, 2013
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Hidden Immigrant
I learned an insightful new term the other day on a site that focuses on life overseas. The author refers to a “hidden immigrant” as “One who speaks the language – looks the part – but is missing social cues and cultural meanings.”
When I started college in 1977, I had lived a total of 3 years of my life in the US. The other 15 years had been spent in several parts of Colombia.
In Colombia I was clearly an outsider. I spoke fluent Spanish, but I was a foot taller than most people and had blond hair and blue eyes. Little kids used to run after me shouting, “¡Gringo! ¡Gurbai! ¡Guachirnei! ¡Sábana biche!”* I had very good Colombian friends but was usually on the edge of what was happening socially. (Introversion is not a desirable trait in Latin America.) My closest friends were other missionary kids from the US and Canada.
So when I got to college, I looked like one more gringo in a university full of gringos, speaking good English, knowing the basics of survival. But there was a lot I didn’t know, and plenty that I learned but didn’t care for.
I coped by finding niches: InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (I could relate to evangelicals, especially intellectual ones); majors in Latin American Studies and Spanish (familiar language and material, people interested in Latin America); international student friends (people from home or places like it). I also traveled home as often as I could, and to Dallas where many of my high school classmates settled (their mission has a major center there). I wrote letters constantly to friends and family.
In relating to Americans, though, it felt like I was setting aside 15 years of my life and operating on a couple of years of out-of-date experience. As the years went by, I got better and better at it, and felt more comfortable. By the time I reached grad school, I felt like an 8-cylinder engine hitting on six, comfortable and competent but not fully confident.
I noticed that my mind made a big switch when I traveled to and from Colombia. When I flew into Medellín, everything looked crowded and small and messy. By the time we drove across the city and started up the mountain to our house, my perspective was restored and everything looked just right. When I flew back into the Miami airport, everything was huge and clean and people were big and fat. It usually took a couple of days for it to quit being strange. One time I was clear back in Lawrence, KS, and had to run an errand downtown. I saw someone across the street and wondered, “Who’s that gringo?”
This mental switch fascinated me. I chose to study intercultural communication for my Master’s, thinking I could work with people who planned to go overseas and prepare them for cultural adaptation.
Once my classes were done, I spent a year in Honduras working with refugees. It was a wonderful environment; the agency had recruited missionary kids from Costa Rica, Ecuador, Peru, Colombia, Bolivia, fresh out of college, because we knew Spanish and were comfortable living in primitive circumstances. It felt great to get back to Latin America and make use of those years that had been set aside.
Since then, nearly all my jobs have been multicultural and multilingual (I’ve deleted a few that weren’t relevant):
Refugee logistics worker (Mocoron, Honduras) – 1984-1985.
Purchasing agent (self-employed, Miami; clients were missionaries and agencies in Latin America) – 1985-1986.
Administrative assistant (charitable agency in Miami serving the Hispanic community) – 1985-1987.
Community researcher (mission agency in Miami) – 1985-1987.
Admissions clerk (missionary linguistics school, Dallas) – 1988.
Missionary in training/teaching assistant (missionary linguistics school, Dallas) – 1988-1990
Adjunct professor of linguistics (missionary linguistics school and University of Texas at Arlington) – 1990-1991.
Linguistics professor (several Bible schools and missionary training centers, Costa Rica) – 1991-1995.
Teaching assistant, linguistics (missionary linguistics school, Dallas) – 1996-1997.
Professor of English as a Second Language (two language schools, a community college) – 1997-1998.
Translator (two agencies in Dallas) – 1998-2000.
High school Spanish teacher (Mansfield, TX) – 1999-2000.
Translator (another agency in Dallas and now Tampa) – 2000-present.At this stage of my life, I’m a voluntary outsider to American culture. Alicia and I talk Spanish to each other. We eat a Colombian diet and hang out with Alicia’s sister and brother-in-law and sing Spanish songs. We travel to Colombia every six months. I like living in the US but am grateful for the multicultural nature of my employment and my marriage and for the Latin grocery store nearby. I feel more fully integrated as a person than at any time in my past.
*Three of those four expressions are attempts at English. If you read them phonetically you can figure them out.
Comments (18)
very interesting things about you, pretty amazing, in fact. you’re quite an accomplished person, and have learned to be mentally flexible, I assume. ?I’m wondering what differences there are between the Spanish spoken by Mexicans around here, and the Spanish spoken in Guatemala?
@plantinthewindow - There are plenty of similarities between Guatemalan and Mexican Spanish, especially from the south of Mexico. But your average Guatemalan doesn’t sound like a Mexican. I haven’t been around many Guatemalans, though, so I don’t know what their distinctives are.I think I’m pretty flexible. I’m grateful to have diverse skills that have helped me make a living throughout my life.
@Roadkill_Spatula - I meant Colombia – my apologies.
I agree – very interesting. A perspective I’ve never thought of. I know even from one end of this country to the other a person can feel out of place when they relocate. I can’t imagine how it must be to be an American who was raised in another country. Your upbringing prepared you well for your many positions – very interesting ones at that. It sounds like right now you have the best of both worlds. Good for you . peace always
Fascinating life.
After college, my sister studied in Rome for a couple of years, then married and lived in Italy until now — the first time she came home from Rome, she was paged in the Boston airport, and answered in Italian. And now, these many years later, she speaks English with an Italian accent. It’s apparently quite comfortable to do so now, although I am sure it wasn’t at all so to begin with!
The catch phrase is “3rd culture kid”. Great post. So many people do not understand this about missionary kids. They expect them to be “normal” and fully fit in, but that is not the case. There is much adjustment involved.
@plantinthewindow - Colombians and Mexicans have no trouble understanding each other but there are a lot of vocabulary and idioms that are different, plus the accent.
I’m reminded of a Jello Biafra t-shirt: “Nobody knows I’m a lesbian.”No one knows you’re a Colombian. I suppose Americans of varied ethnic backgrounds feel similarly when they go overseas. Or perhaps not. There’s something uniquely American about the United States. But anyway, you possess a perspective that is uncommon to most white people. Interesting to think about.
Tim, this whole post hits me like a cement block to the head… but in a good way, ha. So many of your observations are satisfyingly familiar. on the whole, I think I’m doin’ it right. The immediate shock of seeing and hearing ‘merkins’ once a year or so wears off, in tandem with the thrill of watching a culture so full of mutual thoughtfulness, compared to Israel, my ‘home’ guess that’s what it’s become. i actually can’t remember the last time anyone related to me as an American here, other than a random request to practice their pidgin english.in the States, I always have a lot of catching up to do… the latest catch-phrases. and acronyms no one seems to feel a need to spell out any longer, as in the infamous ‘SUV’ ‘duh’ moment.so how do you say ‘gringo’ in Hebrew? You don’t. 90% of the population is like, third generation immigrant or less. there are a good thousand accents, and with a good ear you can know so much about a bloke in the first two sentences .I also don’t totally fit into the US, being as PA Dutch as it gives: I can fit back into that one in a heartbeat, exacerbated even by the parallelism between ‘Dutch’ and Yiddish. I’d say that your post is like a thank-you note… to someone. You are lucky. How can one not be grateful for the facility to move within several cultures? It’s just that you’re ‘too tall’, brother. That’s the only mark of cain you can’t wash off. kidding, of course./ Cheers/ JS
that’s quite something to have had that experience tim. you’re definitely one of a kind being able to interact with the world like that – and getting paid for it is the cherry on top!
This was interesting to read! I’ve always thought of you as an interesting, wise, fun person, Tim…and I thought your life was fascinating. I remember when I first started reading your blog years ago, here on Xanga, you posted a lot on your growing up years in Columbia and on your family…and that captured me in. As a kid born and raised in the Western USA, I loved hearing about your life! I’ve never told you this…but when you reconnected with Alicia, fell in love, and got married…it made me so happy, because I felt like your life had come full circle and you were finally with the person, and in the place you were meant to be!!! It just made sense!!! HUGS!!!
You are immensely interesting! I read the whole thing phonetically and I still don’t get it =/
This is quite interesting. It really rings true. I’ve lost my fitting-in-ness in the Netherlands…not just because my language is more basic, but I don’t “get” adult cues outside of body language. As a kid, I fit right in.When my husband and I first moved back to the USA from Okinawa, we stuck out like a sore thumb. Even though his language was fluentish-beginner, and I only had phrases, we were in Okinawa long enough to develop expat habits. We had to carry our own chopsticks because we were more comfortable eating meals with them. My friend’s husband made fun of me for months for bowing when I spoke to someone I didn’t know well or who was older than me, or a friend I hadn’t seen in ages. I just did the little polite bobs…it was one of my compensating mechanisms in Japan for my lack of language skills. Then there was the island lifestyle…I soon figured out that my Texas neighbors thought it was weird that I walked the dogs in a sarong and bikini top. I just got this uncomfortable vibe from people and then started wearing shorts and tshirts. Glad I got that cue. Didn’t need to be the local hoochie, lol. When my family lived in England, we didn’t come across as Americans. We shopped in local stores and had a Dutch mom. I hope, someday, that my children will have such experiences. I think I will teach them European table manners from the get-go if my husband is willing and up for the task.
Your post hits home Tim. I can totally empathize with every thing you say. The visits home and back and the wonder about the ‘home’ bit…what is home? the one that is in India, with millions of people around in the city or home where there are only about forty thousand, in a small town, which is clean and peaceful. I go home and speak the language with an American accent and hesitation, and I come here and speak this language with an accent.I knew you were special from the get go. Thanks for a great post.
Sometimes I think it is nice to go unnoticed, rather than to stand out in a crowd. It feels good sometimes to just blend in. Sometimes… But that is not who we are now is it?
You have the ability to change of jobs and countries without problem,Tim , probably because you integrate quickly the culture and the way of life of the country where you live . This capacity of integration is not given to all of the migrants. And about love : it is universsal!In friendshipMichel
Our past is a huge part of our present. Sounds as if you have successfully made many adjustments in your life and Colombia will always be a huge part of your heart.