- Azerbaijan
- Oh, and your home is here in Puerto Rico?
- No, I'm homeless
Sometimes when I really think about it, I can't find an answer to the question "Where is your home?" The tension between that question and I becomes too tense and so tight that I break down. Before answering anything, I define the word "home" and what it truly means. To me, a home is somewhere where you can somehow connect memories to, visit the place and automatically feel comfortable, and just get that feeling. The problem is that Azerbaijan, Canada and Puerto Rico somehow connect my memories with itself and I feel somewhat comfortable in all three countries, and in neither of them do I get that feeling.
It's hard to somehow consider yourself homeless because you do want to have that home feeling and to know for a fact there's a place on Earth where you truly belong. In Azerbaijan, I feel more of an American-Canadian because I do look at things in a different way that may seem strange. I believe in self-protection in which I will comment back with a rude phrase if someone bothers me, in which not a lot of young girls do. I don't want to find that rich guy to get married - I'd rather be happy and get rich myself. I mean, there are so many social ideas and standards that I just find too conceded and too tense for my life, but that doesn't mean I don't respect my nation. I love going to Azerbaijan and knowing that I can talk in the language I was brought up talking, the mentality I was brought up to have, and the culture I was brought up to follow. It's a place close to heart, yet so strange.
In Canada, I feel more of an immigrant in which makes it much easier because most people living in Canada are immigrants and do know what the other is going through. Canada is a little bit of both worlds, having so many Azerbaijanis living there yet having that American lifestyle. Canada was indeed a place where I grew up hating myself - constant bullying, harassment, and trying to fit in. I remember how the kids made fun of me because I didn't wear the recent sweater from American Eagle or Hollister, calling me "The Second Hand" girl - yep, that's me! I really didn't want to spend fifty dollars on a sweater with a horrible fabric, my mother taught me better. Nevertheless, living in a place for six years, you tend to somehow make it a place you know and relate to. A place where you can connect again and find yourself all over again.
In Puerto Rico, it's a whole different story. I went to a private school with uniforms in which girls would shorten their skirts to look hotter or if you didn't roll up the sleeves of your white shirt a few times, you'd be a loser. The Nixon watch was a must have for you to be considered a non-gringo (not an American). Puerto Rico is a very patriotic territory even though it is part of the States. It's a bitter sweet feeling living on the island - you feel like a stranger yet you feel home. The Puerto Ricans do remind me a lot of Azerbaijanis - patriotic, fun, family-bonded, loud and energetic. Speaking English on this island won't help you much other than get you some weird looks and someone saying "Ay! Que Gringo!" (What an American, Gosh!) - patriotism.
Even though being patriotic is a good thing, I sometimes tend to be proud of the three countries at once. I stand up for all three when something is discussed and let's be honest, if I didn't move to Canada nor Puerto Rico, I wouldn't be a successful polyglot now, wouldn't I? Being homeless somehow makes you unique and one of a kind. I might be homeless but I'm wealthy with knowledge and a mindset.
