The other day I had a chat with one my friends about culture and identity, trying to come to some agreement on definitions.
We both thought that culture and identity are overlapping completely when people come from one cultural background AND grow up in it, i.e. "I'm French as I was born in France and I've always lived there".
The situation is more complicated once we take into account migration, so prevalent for Australians. For people who migrated in their early adulthood to Australia, their culture will be the one of their country of origin. Their identity - well, that depends on how much they feel at home here I guess... For some that makes them Australians, for others not.
Where it gets a bit more tricky, is when you've been born here, but with both parents from the same overseas country. Odds are that you grew up with the original culture of your parents, yet you will probably identify as Australian.
And then there are people like some of my friends and me, who have 3 or more different cultural backgrounds (Swedish, German, Iranian for me), then grew up and lived for a long time in another country (France), only to settle in Australia at age 28. When asked the question "where are you from?" I usually answer "how much time do you have"... which of course is just a cop-out.
The reality is, I am not sure "what" I am. Mainly because I am simply not just one thing. My bloodline is as mentioned above, yet culturally I am mainly French, German, Iranian.
My identity? I identify as German, as French and now also as Australian. It probably is not a coincidence that I also lived the majority of my life in those 3 countries. Which makes me wonder whether being culturally so diverse hasn't given me an incentive? a motivation? an easiness? to actually make myself fit into whatever culture I was born/parachuted/migrated into.
My personal experience?
If you want people to embrace your culture, make sure your food is really nice :)
If you want people to identify with your country, make sure you welcome them, and give them the possibility to become part of it.
As much as I miss certain aspects of Europe - my friends, the bakery around the corner from my flat in Paris, the way people dress - I found that being welcomed here, making my own friends, the great diversity of fabulous food, my children who are Australian, and my house that is my home all make up for it.
But I realise I am one of the very lucky ones: I came here by choice, speaking fluent English, to follow my love. I came with 14 boxes of books - i.e. my prized possessions. I didn't have to give up my whole life. I could transplant some of it, and also keep alive the rest of it.
So why is it that those like me who have so much, are welcomed so well, and those who have so little, are not? Shouldn't it be the opposite?
And before I hear your outcry that giving migrants "things" is to set them up to be helpless, or to have expectations of being looked after - what I actually would like everyone to get, is a true welcome.
For us to "love our neighbour" - particularly if that neighbour does not look like us.
Because every human being is valuable, has a story to tell, and deserves love, safety and to be welcomed.