JERUSALEM — When I was a pre-teen and teenager, I took tennis lessons at Oak Hill Country Club (now closed) in Belleville, Illinois, and was later on my high school’s team for two years before my newfound passions for journalism and the Model U.N. took more of my time and interest.
My favorite players at the time were Pete Sampras on the men’s side (since I also had a strong serve) and Mary Pierce on the women’s side (since she played for France, and I was learning French in school). But what struck me as weird at the time was the fact that Pierce seemed to be a native American who, for some reason, sided with the French flag. (As I learned later, she was born in Montreal to a French mother and American father, raised in America, and is a citizen of all three countries.)
Although I did not realize it at the time, Pierce was my first introduction to the globalization of identity that would become commonplace years later. In a globalized world, national identity is increasingly a fluid, matter of choice rather than fate — and many people, like myself, are choosing multiple identities. (I am an American who moved to Israel and became a dual-citizen.)
A perfect example is the Winter Olympics currently occurring in Vancouver, Canada. Israeli ice-dancers Roman and Alexandra Zaretsky were born in Belarus but emigrated to Israel as children and now perform for the Star of David. Skater Tanith Belbin (pictured at the top) was born in Canada but now skates for the United States. Cathy Reed and her brother, Chris Reed, were born in Michigan to a Japanese mother and American father, but they have competed for both Japan and the United States at various competitions. Their other sister, Allison Reed, competes for the country of Georgia. And these are just a few examples.
As I have written before, the idea of the nation-state — the foundation of the global order since the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648 — is slowly becoming irrelevant as a result of immigration and globalization. The populations of all countries are becoming more heterogeneous, and a worldwide market for labor means that people are increasingly moving elsewhere — as I noticed in Cairo — for work, education, and their personal lives.
And regardless of a person’s official number of citizenships, even the action of living in another country can impart a sense of belonging. After watching British television while I was a child and then living, working, and studying in London for a summer during college, I have some intangible connection to British culture as well. I’d describe my personality as part American, British, and Israeli — if that makes any sense. When I speak English in Israel, sometimes my accent turns part-British when I’m speaking to native Britons or non-Britons who learned English from a British teacher — and many Israelis think my Hebrew has a French accent (it’s all in the “r” or “ר”). I have several friends who are Francophiles after studying the language and living in French-speaking countries, and I would wager that they have some identity with that nationality as well.
It’s all messy and complicated — but fascinating and endearing as well.
