I know I haven't written in a while, or at least it feels like a while, and I apologize. Even though I'm away from Smith, the bulk of my coursework is still assigned for the last two weeks before winter break. Some things never change, I suppose!
Despite my being busy with school work, I've not been too busy to do the the thinking and reflecting that this blog has (unexpectedly) come to embody. In fact, it has kept me from getting work done on a few occasions. I'm not sure whether you're reading this because you're interested in what I have to say or because it is a convenient way to kill time, or for some other reason, but regardless of your reasons for reading you are going to get the openness and honesty that I've promised.
Ever since arriving in Florence, but especially recently, I've been thinking about identity. It's not the most straightforward or obvious thought process I've ever had, so allow me to give you some context.
The last time I was in Italy alone I was fourteen. I had been studying Italian for three years, and I knew nothing about Italian history. This time, however, I have more education- in a formal sense of the word but also in terms of experience and knowledge. I'm not saying that I have tons of life experience and that I know really well what I'm doing on this planet or that I'm wise beyond my years. I'm saying simply that my intellectual arsenal, if you will, is better equipped than it was the last time around. As it should be.
Another thing that is different about my current experience in Italy is that it's the first time I'm here without being in Naples and without being with my family. I've been to other parts of the country, yes, but always with my family.
These two differences go hand in hand, and are very much relevant to the thinking and reflecting I've been doing ever since my arrival, even though I might not have been immediately aware of it.
During my last year of high school I didn't really know where I wanted to go to college, I knew only that I wanted to study abroad, specifically in Italy. I felt as though any other country wouldn't have really been useful, even though it might have been fun. "I have to go to Italy", I though. "I study and speak Italian, my father is Italian, I have Italian relatives, and have very strong ties with my background. I am Italian".
In the months before I left, my friends and I would joke that this year in Italy was my return to the motherland. Even though we were kidding around, I really felt that way. Now, though, I'm not so sure.
In the years since spending that summer in Naples when I was fourteen, I have learned much more Italian history, and my language skills have dramatically improved. So when I went back to Naples the summer after freshman year of college, my aunt spoke to me, in depth for the first time, about Naples and its language and its people. We talked about the history, the dialect, and campanilismo a term that refers to the fact that people in Italy tend to identify first with their region or city rather than with the nation. These are all things I'd heard of before, whether from professors or from listening to the conversations of my relatives, but that summer for the first time I was part of the conversation. I listened attentively. I asked questions. I learned. I reflected on everything, I never stopped thinking about it.
Now that I am in Florence, I couldn't stop thinking about it if I tried. I don't feel like I've come back to the motherland. I feel like a foreigner. Yes, those conversations with my aunt were incredibly important, but I was in Naples, talking about Naples, with Neapolitans. I had to go somewhere else to really understand. I had to come here, to Florence, to see for myself just how prominent this idea of campanilismo is, and to realize how many diverse cultures exist in this country. All my life I've identified as Italian. But now, I need to rethink. Am I Italian, or Neapolitan? Can I be both, or do I have to choose one? If I can be both, does one identity have to come before the other, or can they be equal? If I can't choose both, which one am I supposed to choose? I speak Italian. I don't speak Neapolitan. But Neapolitan is what my family identifies with. Can I be a part of a culture whose language I don't understand? Do I even get to choose how to identify, or is the identity chosen for me in the way I am viewed by others?
This is a question of identity. A part of me wants to call it an identity crisis. I don't have an answer. At least not yet. Maybe I never will, or maybe these questions are unanswerable. The only thing I know for sure is that I need to learn more.
I have so much more I could say, but it's only indirectly related, and I think this is enough for one post. If you've managed to make it this far, I appreciate your time.
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