Gains and Losses

Growing up with immigrant parents, there was always the sense of frustration that my non-Croatian friends couldn’t relate to.  Why can’t I stay out as late as my “American” friends, why can’t I go away with my friends for prom weekend, why can’t I have a boyfriend.  My narcisstic, teenage self  was generally annoyed at any comment or act made by my parents that was related to their cultural status.

A recent conversation with a Polish-American former co-worker made me think back to my selfish reactions and outbursts towards my parents. We discussed the difficulties our parents had faced as immigrants to a foreign culture. That conversation led me to think about what had my parents gained and lost once they made the decision to settle their family in the United States.

While living in the States, my parents had gained the opportunity to become bilingual and be able to pass on this foreign language to have their children become bilingual.  As my sisters and I married and make plans to have children, the ability to speak the language of my parents tongue becomes more difficult to pass on. My younger sister and I both married non-Croatians and although they are both very supportive in our need to teach our children Croatian, my sister and I are not native speakers and English will be their dominant language.  So, as our children have children, the transfer of language will be less likely to occur, hence the less likely they are to feel the Croatian culture present in their everyday lives.

Which leads me to the cultural loss my parents face, as much as they try to keep control of it in our lives.  As mentioned in my previous post about faith and culture, the Croatian Catholic church I attended growing up is the main way my family and other Croatians have been able to preserve their Croatian roots.  This is where they would find out the gossip within the community, be able to share news from the villages they left, get word when a Croatian singer was coming to perform and take part in collecting money for charities in their homeland.   As the cultural offspring, I try to learn how to prepare the cultural foods, speak the language and keep in touch with my Croatian family and friends, but trying to preserve my parent’s desires of full immersion is unattainable as I have become fully immersed within the dominant culture. 

As the culture continues to slowly fade with each generation, part of the lack of cultural identity lies in the inaccessibility of having close relationships with my extended family.  My parents came here knowing that their relationships with their parents and siblings would shift. I’m not sure if they realized the extent.  My parents didn’t visit our family in Croatia very much and relied on letters and expensive phone calls to keep in contact, which had placed them as outsiders among their immediate family members.  Basically, any and all communication with my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins were always very happy and respectful. Making close bonds and getting to really know the person was very difficult because we were always just so thrilled to see everyone. Plus, it is very difficult to express yourself when communicating in my non-native tongue.

On the other hand, my parents have gained so much. Mostly, the ability to provide their family a middle class lifestyle that would have been unachievable in their homeland. My parents have seen their parents and siblings financially struggle, and still do, and like most immigrants, have been able to send money to help ease some of those difficulties.  They have also gained the opportunity to move back to their homeland through their U.S. retirement and pensions to live out their retirement dreams comfortably. 

So, are their lives better or worse based on these gains and losses? I guess it depends what is viewed as more important.  I personally am glad and feel blessed to have been raised in the U.S. and have the opportunity to speak two languages and be part of a distinct culture that I see has been lost among many of my friends. 

All content © Marija Jurcevic

Faith and Culture: Can One Exist without the Other?

All my life I’ve blindly accepted being a Catholic.  Going through something without much thought isn’t very difficult, especially when I have so many other things in life to worry about.  Will I find a job that I love, will my husband and I be good parents, will I ever pay off my student loans. Why add extra stress to something that has existed in my life on a regular basis since birth.  Catholicism in our household was as regular as brushing your teeth. Just as brushing your teeth is a basic ritual for most people every morning and every night, so was getting up every Sunday morning to attend mass with my family. It wasn’t questioned, just expected.  
 
Over 30 years ago, my parents emigrated from Croatia, a country about 90% Roman Catholic. In our home we had pictures of religious figures on our walls such as Jesus and Mary Magdalene. Growing up we attended CCD, also known as Sunday school, and took the basic Catholic rites of passage. Just like moving from 1st grade to 2nd to 3rd and so forth, as a Catholic, you have baptism, communion and confirmation. This was the process growing up until about 8th grade. There were many, many Sundays my two sisters and I wanted to simply sleep in, but the result was always an argument with our parents until we eventually caved in to our parent’s demands and dressed in our Sunday best. Eventually, I just learned that fighting wasn’t worth the effort and sucked it up.  My mom’s favorite thing was to play Croatian music videos and blast them until we woke up. Basically, week after week, year after year, until I moved out at the age of 24, Sunday’s at 10:15 am we were out the door driving to mass. 
 
Religion and culture are almost blended and not interchangeable. I have felt that if I choose one, I must choose the other. Just think about this, when ethnic groups such as the Croats, began immigrating to the U.S., it was easy to find other Croats. You just had to find the nearest Croatian Catholic church. According to the author of “Croatians of Chicagoland,” Maria Dugandzic-Pasic, Croatians purposely built their own church in order to have a place of solace and join other like-minded people because they were outsiders and they needed a place to feel inclusive. From that point on, everything revolved around the church; Croatian school, Croatian dancing, Croatian picnics, Croatian music fests.  In turn, it became this very collective community. The same can be said for other nationalities, Polish, Italians, Irish, Arabs and Mexicans where religion plays a big part in their country of origin.  
 
Up until a few years ago, I never would have imagined this internal battle with faith and culture.  I was taught that Catholicism was an unchanging status, just as my eye color would always be brown, my faith would always be Catholic.  The day my mother asked me why I was Catholic because I disagreed with her views toward sexual orientation and abortion, is the same moment I realized that my religion was not a fixed status.
 
As I slowly pull away from the Catholic dogma I also risk the possibility of being abandoned and judged by those who follow the same culture.  If I decide to leave the religion I grew up with, am I leaving my Croatian culture as well? Can I have one without the other?

All content © Marija Jurcevic

Defining American

A recent episode of the Colbert Report caught my attention. Jose Antonio Vargas, a prominent journalist, discussed his decision in “coming out” as an undocumented immigrant.  Vargas was 12 when his mother put him on a plane from the Philippines to live with his grandparents in California to give his son a better life. This better life, “American Dream,” is not an uncommon theme with many immigrants.

What was most noteworthy was his discussion about feeling “American.” Vargas’ 20 years in the U.S. allowed him enough time to assimilate to the dominant culture.  The music, movies, books, language, mannerisms, his absorption to simply the norms of society helped define him as American.  So, as he turned 16 and was awaiting his drivers license at the DMV, like most American teenagers,  he quickly learned that his green card was invalid. His whole identity turned on its side.  Since that day, he averted his attention to “never give anyone reason to doubt [he] was American.”

Growing up I heard a lot of reference from my parents regarding anything they viewed as different or ethnocentric to their own culture as being “American.”  Croatians were the ingroup, everyone not Croatian was the outgroup.  I really don’t believe this is very uncommon with other immigrant groups. In the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding, writer/actress Nia Vardalos references this exact point within the Greek culture.  She portrays the Greek immigrant father as very proud of his nationality. He emphasizes the importance of Greek culture, facts about Greek culture, even American words that stem from Greek culture to anyone that would listen.  This is very similar to my own upbringing. This sense of pride for the Croatian culture. Yet, I was also part of the dominant culture by going to public school, hanging out with non-Croatian friends, speaking English, displaying the norms of the dominant culture, being “American.” While my parents reasons for being stricter than my friends’ parents was because my friends were “American” also meant that I was not American.  At least that’s what I thought I was supposed to feel, but I didn’t. I felt my parents were being unfair and didn’t understand because they were the immigrants, they were different.

As I got older, I began to question their, and my own, understanding of how defining what is “American.” When my parents comment on why I eat out at restaurants, go on trips other than to Croatia or when my opinions differ from theirs, my assumption is their judgment that I am being American.  My parents have American citizenship, but don’t consider themselves as American. Again, Vargas spent twenty years of his life being trying to prove that he belongs here, with all the other Americans.  How does someone then demonstrate appropriate “American” behavior?   


All content © Marija Jurcevic  

Going Back Home

My parents have now been in the states for nearly 37 years and are now retired. This means they are packing up to move back to Croatia in this marvelous house they built within walking distance of the sea.  The plan is to move sometime this year. So, what does that mean for their next of kin? They have dreams that we will all move to some country in Europe one day to live a simpler life than they had, more time with family and leisure and less time working so hard. That's not to say they didn't appreciate their financial security, compared to the less secure life my aunts and uncles have been living in Croatia. My father worked as a welder for the city’s transit system and my mother worked delivering packages for a big name delivery company. A simpler life means worrying less about finances and not being so overworked, but what parent hasn't wanted their kids to lead an easier life, especially those that had less and struggled a little more?

My parent’s move seems a little less common within the Croatian community. Yes, many Croatians have built homes, their own sanctuaries reserve for them and their offspring away from their own parents and siblings. On the other hand, these homes are simply there as a second home while they keep their roots in the place they raised their children and are now helping to raise their grandchildren.  My parent’s are a rarity, they left an underdeveloped country, worked hard, saved money, gave their kids the “American” dream, and, unlike many others, are ACTUALLY moving back to their native homeland. I think many immigrants that came over had that initial intention to return one day, but life took over.  There are no grandchildren yet for my parents and so I wonder, if there were, would they have built their “second” home? I know they get comments from others about their decision to leave. What will they do once those grandkids come along, “you’ll want to be back.”

I look at their move as a positive thing. It will allow my husband and I to visit the country more often and see my grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Once we have children, it will allow them to pick up the language better, and my parents will finally be in a place they call home as they watch their offspring continue the same journey. 

All content © Marija Jurcevic 

Coming to America

The first two years of my parents marriage were spent living in Germany. After only one year of marriage, my older sister was born.  Around this time, my great uncle and his wife were living in Chicago. They had immigrated many years earlier.   While in Germany, my parents had played around with the idea of moving to the United States.  Now, my father wasn't as thrilled with the idea, but had a tendency to trust my mother's instincts. To this day, my mother still makes all the major decisions.  My parents have explained to me that the process to come over to the states was as simple as sending a letter to my great uncle, where in turn, he offered them a place to stay.  So, they boarded a plane in 1975 and were on their way to discover life in America!  

Soon after, my mother, only 21 years old, and my father, who had just turned 30,  came to the United States without any knowledge of the English language. Not to mention that my older sister was barely a year old.  My uncle and aunt's apartment was not very big and definitely not big enough to accommodate a mother and father and their young child.  As my parents had to tolerate shutting the lights off by 8 o'clock to help energy costs, my uncle and aunt had to tolerate a crying baby.  This living situation was not quite what either of the families expected. 

Once my parents were settled into their new home, it was time to look for work.  My father was the first to find a job because my mother needed to care for my sister.  Now looking for a job required finding an employed Croatian and hoping this person would offer to help.  Unfortunately, it took asking a few people for someone to finally say yes.  Every time I saw this man while growing up and up until his death, the first thing my parents would say is "He helped your father."  In just a few words, this meant he was the reason why we were clothed, fed, had a home, an education; a life in America.

Many of the Croatian immigrants knew either a family member or friend living in the United States.  These people would provide a temporary home until the person who immigrated found a job.  Later in their lives, these now U.S. citizens would always remember and be grateful for the help. 

All content © Marija Jurcevic 

How My Parents Met

My father was 9 and my mother was barely walking when they first met. Obviously, sparks didn't quite fly at that moment. They both grew up in a same small village in Croatia, but once my father reached 5th grade, he was sent away to an all boys dormitory. Just around the time my father was born, his father had been killed in World War II, so this facility or home he was sent to was meant for children with only one parent or both parents killed.

In the meantime, my mother was going to school and had seen my father once again when she was 12. By the time my mother was 16, she had moved to Germany to earn some money and had become engaged to a German by the time she was 17.

Once my father was out of the army, he had asked about my mother and when he heard she was in Germany, he quickly wrote her a letter asking her to come back to Croatia to see him. Now my mother was very precautious of his request and so insisted that he come to Germany. Through his ingenious trickery, he convinced my mom to come back. Not because of my father's plea, but because of the telegram sent to my mother by her sister saying that their father was sick. This little scheme was concocted by my father who was also engaged at that time! When my mother arrived in Croatia, she quickly figured out what was going on. About one month after she arrived, they were married.

I'm sure many of you dual cultural offspring have a similar story to tell about how your parents met or married. I know with many Croatians back then, most couples did not date for very long and hardly knew each other before marrying. Most of the time the families came from the same villages and knew each other and that's what was relied on, the sense of trust within this collective culture.

All content © Marija Jurcevic 

Dual Cultures

Dual cultures. I have gone back and forth with an appropriate name for this blog. For one, I have seen some differing definitions on who is considered first generation American. On the other hand, I didn’t want to leave others out that may not fit that first generation model. We have immigrants that came over as young as 5 years old and refugees that were teenagers, but have assimilated into the dominant American culture.

Lahiri’s quote above (taken from a 2006 Newsweek article) has been sitting with me for many years, “loyal to the old world” and “fluent in the new.” I felt such a connection as I read through her article. So, I started asking friends and friends of friends with dual cultural identities questions about their upbringing, such as relationships with family and friends, language, food, etc. Where although their parent’s cultures were vastly different from my own parents, the experiences and emotions we had was shared.

What I want this blog to be is an intelligent and open dialogue in sharing our lives. Whether it’s the frustrations of our parents not understanding our views or sharing ways we bring culture into our own, newly formed families. Our world has a habit of making quick judgments of cultural practices that are different than our own, so this is our chance to create a community where we try to examine our similarities, and even differences, without judgment. 

All content © Marija Jurcevic