The writer for the Volkskrant, Nadia Ezzeroili, published a very interesting and controversial column titled Ik ben geen Nederlander: Nederland en ik, we gaan uit elkaar. In this column, Ezzeroili begins by comparing her relationship with the Netherlands as that to a partner or spouse. She recomends that maybe it is time for both to go to couple’s therapy to work out their difference. The column continues with her stating her differences with the Netherlands and how much of an outsider she has felt even though she was born in the Netherlands. She is always labeled as Moroccan rather than Dutch, and this has caused quite a separation for her. She feels like an outsider. She goes on about how the Dutch dream is inexistent for those of different nationalities and she concludes with how the Netherlands pretends to worry about minorities and migrants, but in reality, the country separates them. She concludes the column by saying:

Maar ik vrees dat we relatietherapie niet eens meer moeten overwegen. Onze scheiding van tafel en bed is al realiteit (Ezzeroili, Volkskrant, 30 Jan 2016).

This column has created quite the stir in printed and electronic media. Some writers sympathize with Ezzeroili while others reject her and pretty much ask her to go back to Morocco.

While I was reading some of the responses, I started thinking about a post I wrote a few months ago about the integration process in the Netherlands. One of the readers brought up a very good point about how hard it can be to be part of the Dutch culture regardless of the fact that he speaks Dutch and has lived in the Netherlands for many many years. Then I started thinking of the readers who are Dutch but live outside the Netherlands. Do these readers also feel like outsiders in their cities and towns?

The truth is that we all want and need to belong. The psychoanalyst and social philosopher Erich Fromm states that being separate arouses anxiety. He goes as far as saying that separateness is the source of all anxiety because “to be separate means to be helpless, unable to grasp the world” (Fromm, 1956). Since primitive society, we have been part of a group, whether this group consists of the people we share blood and food with to more developed groups such as those with whom we share citizenship with. In the case of Ezzeroili, she hasn’t felt part of her country for a really long time. It is hard to say if she would feel part of her group if she actually moved to Morocco. I dare say, based on my personal experience, that visiting creates an illusion of “being at home” but actually living there highlights everything that makes you not be at home.

So what do we, migrant citizens, do? Do we need to leave behind our culture and customs to feel at home in the country we live in? Is there a way to feel at home anywhere?  When it comes to Ezzeroili’s column, I do not agree with her. Personally, the column Harriet Duurvoort wrote this past Monday for the Volkskrant comes closer to how I’ve felt like an repeat-immigrant.

Ook voor mij is identiteit voortdurend veranderlijk, dan weer hellend naar de ene kant, dan weer een tijd onder invloed van de andere. Om vervolgens misschien weer een heel nieuwe kant uit te proberen. Grillig en eigenzinnig beïnvloed door de meest uiteenlopende factoren: van familierelaties, vriendschappen en geliefden tot leeftijdsfasen; van opleidingen, de buurt waar je woont en werkkringen tot politiek klimaat en het ervaren van uitsluiting; van indrukwekkende reizen tot spirituele zoektochten. Maar ook films of boeken kunnen plots een nieuwe dimensie toevoegen aan hoe je je identiteit ervaart. Enzovoorts […] Ik heb mezelf altijd meer met het weinigzeggende ‘wereldburger’ geïdentificeerd dan met ‘Nederlander’ […]  Thuis is toch overal en nergens (Duurvoort, Volkskrant, 15 Feb 2016).

What are your thoughts on this? Where do you feel most at home and why?