EMQ » April–June 2020 » Volume 56 Issue 2
By Cam Arensen
Let me introduce myself: I am a TCK. For the uninitiated, that stands for Third Culture Kid. I was born in Tanzania to missionary parents, and grew up in Tanzania and Kenya until I completed high school. We were referred to as MKs (Missionary Kids) when I was growing up. But in the ’70s and ’80s it was recognized that MKs shared a significant overlap of experience with the children of parents with other occupations (military, international business, foreign service, etc.) who lived and worked in other countries. The key to the definition is that we grew up in countries other than our passport country. A significant body of helpful literature grew up around both the challenges and advantages of being a TCK and how that experience shaped the kind of adults we became.
One of the most significant challenges of being a TCK is answering the question, “Where is home?” As an American citizen, I enjoyed our “home assignments” in the United States, but I have to confess it never felt like home to me. I was always anxious and ready to return to Africa. At the same time, I knew I was not a Kenyan. As TCKs we lived somewhat separated from the local culture. My true peers were the other missionary kids. Together we created a kind of “third culture” (hence the term Third Culture Kid). But here’s the problem; when we stepped on the plane to return “home,” we scattered. That third culture disappeared and we became isolated from our identity. We lost our true home and had to begin again to create a new identity and find a new home. In my experience, most TCKs do that successfully and go on to fruitful and fulfilled lives, drawing on our unique growing up experiences to make significant contributions in a wide variety of fields.
What is a Third Culture Retiree?
I say all of that to introduce the real subject of this article. While I am still a TCK, in 2016 I also became a TCR. What is a TCR, you ask? It stands for Third Culture Retiree. In addition to my eighteen years growing up in Africa, I spent almost thirty years as a missionary/pastor outside of the United States, four years in Nairobi, and over twenty-five years in Abu Dhabi, the capital of the United Arab Emirates. In 2016, my wife (also a TCK) and I retired and returned “home” to America. We became TCRs.
I haven’t seen anyone else use the acronym or designation. I coined it after some significant discussions with other TCRs, so maybe it’s an original. Why did I do it and why is it significant? Do we really need another acronym? Maybe not, but I believe it does give us a helpful way to discuss a collection of feelings, struggles, and challenges that face a unique demographic.
Everyone who has spent a significant amount of time living and working outside their passport country will agree that the experience changed him/her. Worldviews expand, values change, the way we view ourselves and others is impacted. The longer we spend in our adopted home, the more profound the change. Then we retire. We return “home” to a country that no longer feels like home and hasn’t for a long time. When we try to share our experiences and our perspectives we are often met with blank looks, incredulity, even hostility. We learn to keep our own counsel, keep our mouths shut, trying to blend in. Our homes often resemble museums of the places we visited and the homes we left behind. After a few polite token responses of interest from visitors, discussion reverts to the local weather and politics. Try to find news about things “back home” and you’ll probably have to do some deep diving on the internet.
These experiences are common to all who have lived and worked in other countries. So why doesn’t TCR refer to Third Culture Returnees? I debated this myself. Certainly, many of the issues are the same. But Third Culture Retirees face an additional set of challenges. These are issues common to all retirees. They include a loss of professional identity; If I’m no longer a missionary, who am I? With the loss of professional identity comes a loss of status or “place.” We become one more anonymous old person. Psychologists have even come up with a phrase for it: role deprivation. When I don’t go to work on Monday morning, where do I go? What do I do? On top of that, retirement is also accompanied by numerous factors of aging; financial concerns, declining health and physical capacity; the aches and pains of our failing bodies.
As I said, these issues are common to all retirees. What makes TCRs different from other retirees is that they are facing these issues at the same time that they are facing the loss of their “other home.” They are battling culture disorientation at the same time as they are dealing with role deprivation. At an age when learning new skills can be difficult, they are faced with learning to live in a new country and a different culture. Like the TCK, the TCR finds himself asking, “Where is home?”
TCR Unique Stresses
We retired to Bend, Oregon. Bend is a growing community with many people moving here to enjoy the high desert climate and recreational opportunities. When meeting new people, the common question is, “When did you move to Bend?” This is followed by the next question: “Where did you move from?” The answer, “Abu Dhabi,” elicits some interesting reactions. One question I dread is, “What was it like?” I appreciate the interest, but how does one condense twenty-five years of living into a polite conversation?
When these two powerful currents of change and adjustment converge on the TCR, we may experience a storm of uncomfortable emotions and accompanying stress. Following, are a few:
Overwhelmed. The required pace of change is too much! The water is too deep and the currents are too strong. It feels like the emotional equivalent of drowning.
Isolated. “No one understands!” is a common complaint. And they don’t! They can’t! They haven’t walked in our shoes. Only those who have walked the same path can understand the host of emotions. But there aren’t many (if any) of those people around in our new homes.
Homesickness. “Oh, for the taste of a good shawarma!” How often have I thought that? Shawarmas are one of the popular street foods of the Middle East. You can find them at a few Middle Eastern restaurants in the United States, but they’re not the same! Picturing the home, life, friends, and tastes left behind can give rise to an almost unbearable ache.
Useless and Incompetence. A busy life of productivity and competence can give way to a feeling of uselessness. Carefully and painstakingly acquired skills of language and cultural understanding (knowing how things work) no longer have any value in the new environment.
Boredom. It is a feeling that there is nothing to look forward to. Throughout my overseas career, there was always some change, some event on the horizon to look forward to that helped me through the rough spots; the next home leave, the return to Abu Dhabi, the next international conference. Changes were always happening. We get used to that adrenalin. Suddenly it may feel like the path spreads out before us in unending sameness, with the only anticipated changes being unwelcome ones (like getting older).
Anger. Psychologists tell us that one of the most common sources of anger is unfulfilled expectations. Blocked goals are another source. When things don’t work the way we expect and people don’t act and respond the way we would like, and we can’t figure out how to get things done, we can easily become angry; angry at people, angry at a community, a society, a whole country! “What’s gone wrong with America!” we ask.
Depression. This is an obvious catch-all that summarizes the accumulated feelings in the above list. I am talking about situational depression, not clinical depression. Whatever the label, it can make it hard to get up in the morning.
This is just a suggested list. I am sure, if you are a TCR, you can make your own additions. So, are we depressed yet? Why even make a list like this except to feel sorry for ourselves? I believe there is a certain value. If you have felt any (or all) of the emotions on the list, it can increase your sense of isolation. It is a sense that you are alone and the only one who is feeling these emotions. You may not even realize the source of some of your feelings. “What’s wrong with me?” may be a question that’s running around in your head. Just knowing that you are not alone and that others have felt and are feeling many of the same emotions and that there is a strong factual reason for the feelings can bring a sense of relief. No, you’re not crazy (or at least no crazier than you were before)!
Some Commonsense Suggestions
However, description and group therapy can only take us so far. What about prescriptions for weathering the storm? I’ll be honest with you here. I have decidedly mixed feelings about such prescriptions and self-help articles. I often feel like my intelligence is being insulted, and the offered help is no more than common sense or that I’m being offered band aids for a serious wound. However, it doesn’t feel right to simply identify and describe a problem without making some attempt to offer some ideas for coping with the very real challenges. It is also my observation that common sense isn’t always that common. So, at the risk of offending you the way I have often been offended, here are some commonsense suggestions.
Approach your retirement and resettling as one more cross-cultural adjustment.
Some years ago, the sociologists and missiologists came up with the term “culture shock.” If you’ve spent much time living internationally you have experienced at least some degree of culture shock; the disorientation that comes from living in a foreign culture. Then a few years later they came up with another helpful term: reverse culture shock. It refers to the disorientation and distress that comes from returning home and finding that it has become a foreign culture. That’s what we are talking about here. But we can ameliorate the distress by expecting it; realizing that not only has our home culture changed, but so have we. Rather than expecting everything to be the same, we can become cultural observers and adapters. There will be things we don’t like. There were things we didn’t like (or understand) in our adopted culture, but we adapted and worked through them to a point of understanding if not enjoying. We need to bring that same mind set to our return home.
My life has been spent in church ministry. Church cultures vary. So does church music. (Whoever said that music is the universal language hadn’t lived very long or traveled very far!) When I worship in a church in India, I don’t expect their music to be like the music in my church. I don’t expect to even like it (I don’t!) And I don’t expect them to adapt their music to my tastes and preferences. But I can still appreciate the opportunity to worship with fellow followers of Christ. I can bring that same non-judgmental mindset to bear when the music in my new church in Bend isn’t always precisely to my liking.
Embrace and enjoy the good things in your new reality.
After forty years in church ministry and being responsible for the running of a church, I have relished the anonymity and lack of responsibility of being just a member of a congregation. It took a little while to get used to it, but it feels good to slip in (sometimes late!) and sit in the back row. I enjoy sleeping in when I feel like it, and enjoying a leisurely cup of coffee in the morning. I like setting my own schedule and not being driven by work or others’ demands and expectations. I can take a walk when the weather and my inclinations converge. It’s a lot like being on school vacation, only September has been cancelled! Don’t get me wrong. I do miss many of the ingredients of my former life. I am just learning to enjoy aspects of my new life.
Make new friends.
This doesn’t need to happen in a hurry but be open to the new people around you. We have found it especially helpful to seek out others who have lived or worked internationally. They may be other retirees or simply returnees, but people who have lived outside of the US often share a common bond of experience. Sharing experiences can be refreshing and reinforce the fact that we are not alone. One couple in our church who had lived and worked in Uganda began hosting occasional get-togethers of people with international experience. Just sharing our stories with one another made for some delightful evenings.
Keep up with and visit old friends.
We can go overboard on this one. I am not suggesting spending hours every day on Facebook. But selectively communicating and visiting (or being visited by) friends from your international life helps maintain a sense of your history and identity.
When finances and health permit, plan a trip back to your international home.
I don’t think it should be too soon, as it may simply feed your sense of dissatisfaction with your new life. But making plans for such a trip gives something to look forward to. Such a visit may also give you a reality check that your international life was not as rosy or problem free as you remember. Nostalgia tends to paint in pastel colors! I love Africa. When I land at the airport in Nairobi and draw a deep breath of Kenyan air, I still get a strong sense of “coming home.” I love to visit. But after a few weeks of bumping over Kenyan roads and fighting Nairobi traffic I am ready to get back on the plane.
The above list of suggestions is just that: a list of suggestions. You can undoubtedly make your own list or add to mine. There is an additional list of helpful suggestions that I have deliberately omitted. They are suggestions that apply to all retirees who are dealing with role deprivation; suggestions like: find a hobby, get a part time job, volunteer, etc. They are good suggestions, but such lists can be found in almost any publication for retirees. I have sought to limit my list to ideas specifically for TCRs: those who are concurrently facing both issues of role deprivation and cultural dislocation.
By way of application, here are some questions you might want to ask yourself:
- Which of the list of emotions listed above have I felt? Which ones am I currently feeling?
- What aspects of my home culture (local or national) do I find most peculiar? Has the culture changed or am I the one who has changed?
- What do I miss most about the culture of my adopted (international) home? What don’t I miss?
- What are the good things I enjoy about my new home, role and life?
- What new friends have I made? Have I made any new friends who can share and understand international experience? What “old” friends am I still connected to?
Conclusion
Of course, as followers of Christ, we have another reality that is deeper and stronger and another perspective that provides resources and strength for facing the challenges of life as a TCR. This reality is that our true identity is not bound up in passport or occupation or role. Our present and future are bound up in our identity as followers of Christ. We have a lot to look forward to!
Oh, and one final word of a personal nature. I spent my first year of retirement undergoing treatment for cancer. I don’t recommend it as a strategy, but it certainly puts the challenges of being a TCR into perspective!
Cam Arensen was born and raised on the mission field and spent his life in Christian service as a pastor in Alaska, Kenya and the United Arab Emirates.
