An Eid-dentity crisis

For the first time since going to Egypt, I’m going to leave the country.

For the Muslim holiday Eid-al-Adha, I’m flying to Greece, where my family is from. I’m going to try to do something no one in my family has done before.

I’m going to try to go back to the village where my family started.

It’s kind of a crazy story.

One of my aunts set me up with a third cousin in Canada who goes back every year.
 
She, in turn, set me up with relatives in Athens, who I plan to call and meet upon arriving. I will hopefully find out how to get to the tiny village in the mountains.

It’s something I’ve always wanted to do — to go back to Greece, even if going to the village falls through.

After living in the Egyptian culture for two months, I’ve been more convinced to go back to Greece.
   
I’ve never in my life been so aware of my ethnicity. I’ve always thought of myself as a good ol’ fashioned, American mutt.

My grandmother on my father’s side is as Greek as they come, but my grandpa is a cigar-smoking American veteran.

My mom’s side is Swedish, Jewish and Irish. If we’re talking percentages, I’m mostly Greek.

Although I grew up eating Greek food and have gone to a few crazy Greek weddings, I’ve never considered myself to be primarily Greek.

In Egypt, that’s changed.

When we meet Egyptians, one of the first things we are asked is where are we from. We respond, “America.”

One time, a man laughed at me and said, “No, but where are you really from?”
The only answer I have is Greece.

Generally, in the Middle East, roots are of paramount importance.

I think it’s hard, as Americans. We don’t really have an ethnic identity in the same way.

If we do, it’s created based on countries of our ancestors, but it almost always comes second to “American.”

But what does that even mean? If you identify yourself as American, what are you identifying with? It’s not an ethnicity.

Does “being American” mean you agree with the government? The policies? You agree with the ideals set forth in the Constitution?

It’s complicated.

Because if you don’t agree with those things, where does that leave you?

Here, it’s totally different.

If you’re talking to someone from the Middle East, they never just say, “I’m Arab,” or “ I’m from the Middle East.” They say, “I’m Pakistani.” “I’m Iraqi.” “I’m Egyptian.”

Where they live is irrelevant. It’s where they’re from that counts.

Egyptians love their home country like no other people I’ve seen.

They know Egypt has problems. They’ll admit to that.

Egyptians will even joke about how badly they want to leave, but in the end, they nearly always say the same thing.

“But I couldn’t leave,” they say. “I love it too much.”

In a lot of ways, I’m envious. I’ve never really felt that compulsion to identify with a geological place, including America.

I love America and am infinitely glad I grew up there, but there are so many things I disagree with. I don’t have the same dedication to my country as I see here in Egypt.

It must be nice to be so certain of where you come from.

I’m excited to go back to Greece. I’m hoping to have one of those moments, so perhaps I can understand.