So, where are you from? It’s an infamous question among Milteens. We all puzzle over how to answer it, and I’ve heard a lot of eloquent thoughts and relatable rants on the topic. But it's only one of many introductory questions I’m prone to overthinking.
When you move around, you have to introduce yourself a lot. One of my friends likes to say I over-explain myself, and I like to say that it’s because I’ve constantly been forced to re-explain myself to a new set of people every couple of years. It’s certainly led me to think a lot about how I describe to people who I am.
For starters, I tend to tell people I’m a military teen. It’s one of the most important parts of my story. Even in the context of a workshop about climate activism, I introduced myself as a military teen and explained how moving around has shaped my experience with the environment. But the way in which I describe my family’s military affiliation has provoked unexpectedly strong opinions at times.
After my introduction, a woman from the workshop met us for lunch. She told me she’d enjoyed hearing about my military backstory and how that’s affected my perception of climate change. And then she said, “And I’m so glad you didn’t call yourself an ‘army brat.' I’ve never liked that term. I feel like it has the wrong connotation: you’re not a brat, you’re a very pleasant child.”
I think, at this point, a lot of you are either laughing or rolling your eyes. To most of us, “military brat,” the proud badge of honor, does not equal “brat” as in a spoiled child. But to her, there was no difference. At times, there can be quite a disconnect between the words we choose for ourselves and the words others would choose for us.
Sometimes our words spark more intense reactions. I often find people have strong opinions about how I, as a biracial person, should label my race. I have encountered those who feel that I look "too White" to lay claim to any other identity. Others have told me that my calling myself just White is a betrayal and denial of my Black heritage.
There is something deeply vulnerable about introductions, about choosing what parts of ourselves to show to other people and what words we want to use to tell our stories. And it can be scary to know we may face judgment for what we choose.
When we face that fear, though, we inspire others to do the same. We teach each other. I was able to talk to the woman from that workshop about the phrase “brat” and how it took on its meaning in the military community -- a different meaning than it had for her. I honor both parts of my racial identity by referring to myself as biracial. Sometimes, people who talk to me are learning that word for the first time.
Your words won’t always be the same words everyone else wants to label you with. But the beauty of introductions is that they are a brief, verbal autobiography. They aren’t what someone else would say for you, they’re a chance for you to say what you want to say for yourself.
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