identity and nationality --- thoughts

As always, my trip abroad has prompted musings on the nature of our identities. I had many many talks concerning the difference between America, Britain/Ireland and Europe, from the trivial (no Europeans like root beer; they loved it when I ordered an 'ice lolly' at the zoo, or complained about the 'queues') to the devastating (the effects of 9/11, still incredibly powerfully and movingly experienced by people in the city, and Bush's disastrous foreign policy). However, what really struck me was little moments which seem to reveal the deep nature of our culturally constructed identities and the emotional resonance they have for us. 2 cases in particular really struck me.

1) I went to the Whitney Biennial, a kind of 'compte rendu' of the contemporary American art scene. One v interesting part of the exhibition concentrated on African American artists and the whole issue of black rights. For example, one piece had a dummy wearing a flak jacket, with the jacket filled with books by Malcolm X and similar. Another piece was a KKK outfit 'reclaimed' by being covered in slogans and urban graffitti. A third piece was a poster proclaiming 'Black Pride Week'; which had three little girls worshipping an icon that was dressed as an athlete. What was most striking as I wondered through this piece of the exhibition was that all the gallery visitors were white, without exception. All the gallery security guards were black, without exception. A black security guard stood by, but not really looking at, the flak jacket. So black artists can now enter the gallery space, but they seem to exclusively address a white audience... the only black faces in the space were in the marginalised position of gallery attendant. I really wanted to ask the attendant what he thought of the works of art and how they spoke to him, if at all, but I wasn't brave enough - and I'm sure he would have thought I was patronising him.

2) On the plane on the way home, I was sat next to a mother and daughter - the mother 67 (she looked older, I only know cos I saw her landing card), the daughter in her late 30s. I asked the daughter if she'd been to Belfast before and she told me she loved Ireland, got engaged in Belfast, and was bringing her mother over as a treat as 'her people were originally from Ulster' and her mother had never been to Ireland before. Of course I felt that typically sneery thing of thinking it was ridiculous she could identify as Irish as she was clearly American, as was her mother. However, as we landed at Belfast and the landscape became visible before us as we broke the cloud cover, the mother began to cry, silently, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was choked with emotion. "Oh Mom", said the daughter, "I didn't know this would get to you so much." "I've always felt I belonged here, and now I know I do", came the reply. I felt strangely moved by this, who have never identified that strongly with a country, not even the one I was born in!

All this to say that who and what we are seems so incredibly complex --- deconstructing our identity is more than proclaming this as an empty discourse designed to position us in a certain way --- we feel and sense these things at quite a visceral level. How do we acknowledge this and at the same time work towards a non assimilationist and respectful tolerant, non-patronising attitude towards the Other?