By Donna Bristow
I’m standing in the supermarket at checkout, fumbling with my credit card. Hesitantly, I hand it to the young cashier.
“You can just swipe it,” he says, “or I can do it here for you.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m new in the country,” I apologize. “And, where we were living, the cashier always took it.”
“Wow, you speak amazing English!” the young cashier exclaims.
“Oh no, I’m an American; I grew up here. I’ve just been living outside the country for a long time.”
And, with that, we have a good laugh.
The cashier thought I was a foreigner, an immigrant. To be honest, sometimes I feel I have a lot in common with people who have recently arrived in the United States from another country—awkward, unsure. Yet, from the outside, I look just like everyone else, a “typical” American.
Learning to navigate life
I grew up in New Jersey and later moved to Chicago for work. To be sure, there are differences to learn even when you move within the US—certain ways you do or don’t behave on the East Coast or in the Midwest. But still, the regions have certain common things that you find familiar and know how to do regardless of where in the US you’re living.
Then, I lived in Istanbul, Turkey, for 35 years, serving the Lord with my family. I have spent more than half my life in another country now, having moved to Turkey at age 28. So, for more than 30 years, I knew how to shop in the local markets and bazaars, how to navigate the Turkish medical system, how to meet people, and how to cook Turkish meals. My husband, George, and I knew what government offices to go to for legal work, how to do our banking, how to get a driver’s license, and how to drive in Istanbul.
For our kids, there is even more that is familiar about Turkey and even less that is familiar about the US. Our oldest, Amy, was two years old when we moved to Istanbul, and our other three were born in Turkish hospitals. All four went through a big transition when they packed their suitcases with all their belongings and moved to the US for college. It was a big adventure with its fair share of awkwardness and first-time experiences.
Children like ours are known as third culture kids. David Pollock, who wrote the book Third Culture Kids: Growing Up among Worlds, developed this definition: A third culture kid (TCK) is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents’ culture. The TCK frequently builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership in any.
Understanding our identity
My husband and I have just transitioned back to the US. Of course, we find many things familiar here because we grew up in the States. But I am finding that I have experiences and feelings similar to what my TCKs have known. About a month after we moved back, I was talking with a fellow missionary friend and sharing some of the new things I was experiencing. “There’s a name for it, Donna,” she said. “Hidden immigrant!”
That term, coined by Pollock and his colleague Norma McCaig, enables me to understand why I sometimes feel I have more in common with immigrants than my fellow native Americans. Hidden immigrant can apply to children of missionaries who return to their passport country as well as to the adult missionaries themselves when they leave the country in which they’ve been serving.
In Third Culture Kids, Pollock explains that although hidden immigrants may now view life through a different lens—one their home country does not share—people all around them, of course, presume that they are culturally aware and hold a worldview like theirs. Because these TCKs and missionaries look “just like everyone else” in dress and speech, no one guesses the struggle they may be facing. The question “How are you adjusting?” often requires a long answer that is difficult to even formulate.
In “TCKs as ‘Hidden Immigrants,’” a helpful article published at OneChallenge.org, Diane Morris gives good advice on how those of us who are hidden immigrants and TCKs ought to view ourselves: She says we need to learn that our true identity is in Christ and remember that our citizenship is ultimately not in any country but, rather, in God’s heavenly kingdom (Philippians 3:20). Yet we can live here as happy sojourners. We are “‘assigned’ to live in this world as He did—accepting, loving, and enjoying others for who they are, gradually taking on the parts of the culture that are good and even enjoying the differences.”
Bringing Turkish culture with me
Having arrived in the US 10 months ago (and with a two-month trip back to Turkey during that time), I have slowly learned things such as how to do self-checkout at the grocery store, pump gas without an attendant present, and get a license and a library card. I now know how to greet or not greet the people I pass at the park, and I remember to ask about food allergies when I invite someone over.
I am also finding that I can share some of the things I have learned from the Turkish culture with people in the US. In Turkey, you can essentially invite yourself over to another person’s house for a visit. I jokingly told a new friend this and asked if I could stop by that week. I wanted to have a quiet place to visit with her and an opportunity to pray together. We had a great visit at her house, and later, she texted me saying I could invite myself over anytime.
Returning to the US, or any passport country, and adjusting to life here requires some of the same skills as moving to another country and learning a new language and culture. It requires listening well, loving well, and trusting God in the adjustment. I have to remember to be gentle and patient with myself. And it certainly helps to have a sense of humor!
Donna and George Bristow are commended from Terrill Road Bible Chapel in Fanwood, New Jersey. They are now Other Overseas Service missionaries.
Originally published in Missions magazine, August 2023. For more content, sign up for a free subscription (US) to Missions at CMML.us/magazine/subscribe.
