Do you ever stop caring about your birth country even if you never want to live there again?

I lived the first 20 years of my life in America, and the following 27 years in the UK. But despite the fact that I have never had a real adult life in the country of my birth, I still sound American and others immediately identify me as American – which I always find disorienting since I’ve spent more time out of my birth country than in it.

For nearly three decades, I’ve tried to mesh myself into British culture. But the more time I spend as an expat, the more I see clearly that birth countries have a disproportionate impact on our identities. Whether you like it or not, the language, traditions, and cultural nuances of the place you grew up shapes your worldview, your values, and even your sense of self. Even if you become a citizen of your new country, raise your family in your new country, and do everything you can to adopt your new country’s way of life – memories and experiences from your formative years linger forever.

These ties manifest in many ways: constant nostalgia for specific food (I miss real bagels!), holidays (am I still allowed to celebrate 4th of July?), music (I miss hearing Billy Joel on the radio!), or even an (often all-consuming) interest in the politics and current affairs of your birth country.

Believe me, I wish I could shut my eyes and not follow what’s going on in America right now – but I can’t. What if my daughter wants to live there someday? I have to ensure it’s still a place she’s proud to claim as her own. I actually feel like I follow American politics more as an expat than if I actually lived there!

“I can’t escape the emotional bond I have with my birth country, but I view the ocean between us as a privilege and a gift.”

I’ve learned that the shared history and collective narrative fed to you during your formative years is stronger than you think. American stories of national triumphs, tragedies, and struggles have become part of me, whether I wanted them to or not. Decades later, this can still prompt a deep sense of patriotism and pride, but at the same time it can prompt deep condemnation.

I can’t escape the emotional bond I have with my birth country, but I view the ocean between us as a privilege and a gift. The distance brings a mixture of clarity, objectivity, and longing – allowing me to appreciate America’s strengths while acknowledging her shortcomings. Just as I tell my daughter that I’m strict because I love her, if I criticize America, it’s also out of love.

Caring deeply about your birth country is a testament to the enduring power of roots and memories. It reflects the human capacity to hold space for multiple identities and loyalties; how we can both honor the past and embrace the future. This enduring connection is the invisible thread that ties us to the place our story began. And that’s what being an expat is all about.