Not too long ago, my son identified almost solely as Japanese. Once, when I suggested he eat corn on the cob with butter and salt, a la americaine, he refused, saying rather haughtily, “Japanese don’t eat corn like that.” And when exasperated with the amount of homework I oversee each evening I suggested moving to the States where the load is not quite so heavy, my son became panicky and wild-eyed.
Well, now Jio is going through an American phase. He says that George Washington is his favorite president, and he’d like to see Miley Cyrus in concert. He often brings up anecdotes from his last visit to South Carolina, and frequently evokes his slightly older cousin. He says that he can’t wait to go to America this summer, which I am happy to hear, and that he is even a bit “America-sick” (as opposed to homesick).
I know that for kids like mine, identity is a moving target, but for the moment I’m enjoying his interest in my country’s culture.