So there’s this one conversation with my Mother that goes something like this..
Mum “So you know, (your biological Father)’s mother was Italian.
Me “What?” “That’s not right.”.
Mum “Yes it is”
Me “No it’s not.”
Mum “So she was and you’re part..”
Me “Sorry Mum. That is too much for me. My identity is already confusing enough.”
Can you conceive of the one who looks Latin/ Asian depending on the day.. Raised Australian, later Americanised.
I’m so glad I have a moment to reignite a passionate issue of mine, in the past. The topic – being my Identity. More specifically my Australian identity via my name structure. On which, I wrote over a dozen essays in school for whatever assessment cause. I didn’t always pay attention. Collected the good points. But wrote for me, because I had to. Refinding, re defining, over analysing.. pretty pious in fact.
I recalled a time on the Gold Coast some years ago when via my casual jewellery store job, I came across a woman of an older generation who said to me “You’re Italian.”
To which I replied “No. I’m not.” She said it again, in a matter of fact tone. And I replied, “No I’m not. “, Upon her third delivery, I gave up. Perplexed. Slightly irred.
Too many identity issues as it stands.
Maybe sometime I’ll let you know all about them.
#mariadelosangeleshorigome Claim back what is yours. In this instance, it is my name and my life. To hopefully one day, supress previous strife.
Building a few new things to lose.
The Italian Connection leads to Santarini and his network in Italy from Carrara and La Spezia. Places, that I’ve watched avidly via IG. His people are warm, and kind with sense of style and class. It got me thinking about this cultural link. Now I follow @kumusicofficial @duquarecords @itsmadtv @herosoundstudio @nickspinatelli and more. Oh what a wonderful world..
Who knows where I’m really from?