As a wanderer around the world, a daughter-in-law of the Viet diaspora and a mother of third culture kids, I often feel marginal. Dounia is an adult third-culture kid. This post, motivated by a visit to Washington D.C. is a profound meditation on what it means to part of a country and a nation, yet not quite.
In my years as a TCK I have been to several capital cities around the world, but until very recently I had never been to the capital city of my passport country: Washington, D.C. I had wanted to visit D.C. for a long time and now living on the East coast, I knew my chance would come. It finally did, and it was well worth the wait. Being in D.C. was incredible and wonderful for so many reasons. The vibrancy of the city was invigorating and I fell in love. Oh, I fell in love with many different places and sights for all sorts of reasons. I quickly realized that D.C. managed to touch upon many different facets of me: the TCK side of me, my connection to France, my love of history… But what truly caught me off-guard was the connection I felt to the American side of me…
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