Many third culture children have trouble identifying with their passport country because they have lived abroad in their developmental years. To me, my passport also reminds me about my options. My P blog musings is about Passports.
I have parents from two countries. From I was born until I was eleven years old, I had Icelandic citizenship and passport. After this I have had Norwegian citizenship and passport. The rules are that you can have only one citizenship when you have turned eighteen years old. So, even if I want two, I can’t. My siblings have both: one has Icelandic citizenship and one Norwegian citizenship.
It was my mother who wanted me to change citizenship. I still remember the feeling of the bright red passport in my hand, and not the dark blue I was used to: it was exciting and represented something new, but also sad. I felt like I had burned bridges behind me, that it was too late to turn around. That one of the few visible bonds to my father’s country was ripped from me.
I have later learned that I could have had a third citizenship if I wanted to. The country where I am born gives citizenship to people born there. Did you know there are millions of people in the world without a citizenship, without a passport? Stateless. So, guess it’s kind of luxury to have three possibilities, when you think about all the people longing to have only one. I am grateful for my passport, even if I sometimes wish it had two other colours. But that is only because I don’t know where I belong, and that I have a part of me in several countries.