Being different
The fact that I was raised by my dad and not my mother was such a big deal in my life! My parents got a divorce when I was six and my mother married again (three times altogether, men from three different nations and omg was I ashamed of this). Over the years my mom had two more girls.
That I always lived with my dad, not mom, was perceived as strange by many. I cannot recall how often people had asked me if my mom passed away, and their surprise when I answered no. In their minds they could not comprehend the fact that a man is raising a child by himself. Growing up with my dad was not problematic for me, but I always perceived it as something that made me different from others. All my friends, either had both parents or lived with their mom, but I was different because I had “only” a dad. My mom who lived far away was not very often in the picture. And if this alone would have not been strange enough, my dad was an Italian guest worker, who came to Germany in the late 60’s and who listened to cantautori music. Music that was politically inspired and often focused on such things as marginalization of people. The first song I learned as a child was bella ciao. A song that is often sung in revolutions. My dad, who never got remarried, and according to many of my friends was a bit strange, but not as strange as the things we ate, at least when compared to what my German friends ate at home. My dad, a fantastic cook, used olive oil before it became popular, my favorite dishes were antipasto and not as many expected Spaghetti with tomato sauce. I never ate these typical German foods such as Rouladen, and Goulash etc. Most of my summers were spent in Italy, or with my mom and my two sisters (a German, and a Moroccan).
My dad had friends from all different cultures and many evenings they got together and cooked and talked and had fund. At the time, I felt that life is unfair because everyone was normal only I was not! I felt that I had strange parents, strange life circumstances, half sisters, a dad who spoke Italian, cooked strange, and acted strange. But all I wanted was to be like all my German friends, who spoke German, ate German food, had normal siblings not half ones, and acted German. It took me years to see that my beautiful, strange upbringing would open my mind and heightened my awareness for other cultures.
That I always lived with my dad, not mom, was perceived as strange by many. I cannot recall how often people had asked me if my mom passed away, and their surprise when I answered no. In their minds they could not comprehend the fact that a man is raising a child by himself. Growing up with my dad was not problematic for me, but I always perceived it as something that made me different from others. All my friends, either had both parents or lived with their mom, but I was different because I had “only” a dad. My mom who lived far away was not very often in the picture. And if this alone would have not been strange enough, my dad was an Italian guest worker, who came to Germany in the late 60’s and who listened to cantautori music. Music that was politically inspired and often focused on such things as marginalization of people. The first song I learned as a child was bella ciao. A song that is often sung in revolutions. My dad, who never got remarried, and according to many of my friends was a bit strange, but not as strange as the things we ate, at least when compared to what my German friends ate at home. My dad, a fantastic cook, used olive oil before it became popular, my favorite dishes were antipasto and not as many expected Spaghetti with tomato sauce. I never ate these typical German foods such as Rouladen, and Goulash etc. Most of my summers were spent in Italy, or with my mom and my two sisters (a German, and a Moroccan).
My dad had friends from all different cultures and many evenings they got together and cooked and talked and had fund. At the time, I felt that life is unfair because everyone was normal only I was not! I felt that I had strange parents, strange life circumstances, half sisters, a dad who spoke Italian, cooked strange, and acted strange. But all I wanted was to be like all my German friends, who spoke German, ate German food, had normal siblings not half ones, and acted German. It took me years to see that my beautiful, strange upbringing would open my mind and heightened my awareness for other cultures.
anna25bell - 6. Mär, 10:44
1027 x
