I have always struggled to feel like I belonged. My life has been one marked by transition and change. At an age when most children learn to walk, I learned to fly and my feet have never quite landed since. Because of my family’s work abroad, despite my American citizenship and birthplace, I spent the first 18 years of my life living in Europe, Asia, and Africa. Home became a nebulous idea to me. I knew what it felt like to have wonderful family and friends. I knew what good community looked like. I just didn’t know how to be content in the places I lived.
College marked the first time in my life I had to live in the States for an extended period of time. The first time I stepped foot on Georgia Tech was the day I moved in; it was the same day I said goodbye to my family and was left all alone in a state and country where I had no connections. I was an invisible immigrant, an international student with an American passport. Few people knew, even less understood. My college experience has been defined by my struggle to feel at home in a foreign place. Student organizations, academic programs, volunteer work – it was all in part an effort to feel “normal”.
Over winter break my second year, I got to return to my family living in Africa. We parted tearfully at the end of two weeks and I began the tedious journey back. When I landed in Boston after nearly 24 hours of travel, I stepped up to the immigration counter where the customs control agent took my documents and glanced quickly back and forth from my passport to my washed out, tired face.
Where are you coming from?
His question snapped me back to reality. I had been preoccupied trying to predict the chances I could conveniently forget to declare the food I was carrying and not get caught.
Um. South Africa.
What was your reason for going there?
Visiting family.
Your family lives in South Africa?
Yes.
How long did you stay?
Two weeks.
Okay. You’re good to go. Welcome Home.
The man at the immigration counter handed me back my passport and we moved on with our lives without another word. Two connecting flights later I’m still thinking about those simple words: Welcome Home. At first, I am indignant. How dare he! If only he knew what I had left behind. Then, I am humbled. If not for him, would anyone have welcomed me back? I settle at disheartened, because after all this time, I’m disappointed that these simple words still have so much power over me. Knowing myself, maybe they always will.
Georgia Tech is a temporary stop on my journey, but I’ve found glimpses of home in my friends, roommates, and the communities who’ve come alongside me and seen what others did not. To them, my past is not invisible and my experience defines who I am for the better. For all of our sake, I hope that is true and maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll find my way home.