I know the difference between a house and a home. I do not have the former, but I have several of the latter. Having multiple homes means that sometimes, I feel homeless; ultimately, I experience this feeling as an advantage. Not belonging in any one place has made me believe I can belong anywhere. Different Me's appear in different places, and I am slightly different in each language I speak. My wit is sharpest in English, my diction makes me strangely vulnerable in Turkish. Or is it the other way around? In Spanish, I am the badass who sits next to the cab driver and chats the whole way as though the fifty-something-year-old man sitting a gear shift away from my were my peer (and as though I were fluent in Spanish).
And when I cannot make sense of my own experience, I read some James Baldwin. Put into his words, inherent complexities seem manageable; I feel so lucky to have him in my life, like a distant uncle, maybe I cry.
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