My whole life I have lacked pride of nationality. While most of my friends from back home proudly displayed their Irish, Italian, Indian or Pakistani roots in the form of tattoos, t-shirts, and license plates, I sat quietly and avoided the “where am I from” question. Even though I am not the type of girl who would ever get a tattoo, I still felt like I was missing out. I was. Being Jewish, I assumed I was from somewhere in Eastern Europe, but none of my family ever bothered to tell me where. I never bothered to ask. As the prospect of study abroad morphed from dream to reality, I began to realize the extent of my ignorance. I truly wanted to study in a country that would connect me to my ancestors. But, one key question remained. Where am I from?
I recently discovered the answer to that question is quite complex. Most of my family fled Central and Eastern Europe, attempting to avoid the anti-Semitic politics of the late 19th and early 20th century leaders. They witnessed governments that suppressed their culture and took away their rights. It is not like I never thought about my nationality. As I sat in European history class in seventh, ninth, and twelfth grade, I did wonder the role of my ancestors in history. When I read of the reforms of Joseph II and Ferdinand II, I thought of how they must have impacted the lives of Jews living in Austria-Hungary. As I learned about the Holocaust, I realized I have many relatives and ancestors that must have perished under Hitler’s rule. I now know I am Hungarian, Polish, Russian, Romanian, Lithuanian and Austrian, but I still do not know why it took so long for me to learn this. I hoped my study abroad experience would help me define my identity. It has.
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