Not really a WASP

 

 I grew up thinking I was a WASP, White Anglo Saxon Protestant. 

No matter that my family's only connection with being Protestant was the Congregational Church with an occasional church supper where my grandmother took her scalloped corn casserole and the church Christmas Fair. They had great chicken salad sandwiches in a tasty roll and lots of nice homemade hats and mittens.

As for the AS, my mother's side of the family could trace their English heritage to their arrival on the Blessing in the 1630s. An ancestor, John Sargent, fought in the American Revolution.

No matter that my father was born in Nova Scotia and had been naturalized at 25. My WASP family considered him foreign which made me half WASP with a French last name.

No matter that his side of my family was Catholic, also denied by my WASP side. He did take me to Mass once and as we left for church, my mother said, "Don't be afraid of the bloody statues."

The only part of me that is WASP is the W in WASP. I'm white.

It's a good thing my identity never relied on my WASPdom.

A DNA test confirmed my English/French heritage and added a 1% Norwegian. Hmmm...Maybe a Viking while raiding an English visit spied a pretty lass or maybe he even stayed and raised a family. That might make me a WAFAN. White-Anglo-Franco-Atheist-Norwegian. Or maybe WASFAV, White-Anglo-Saxon-Franco-Atheist-Viking.

Moving to Europe, I was able to visit the village where Michel Boudreau had sailed to Nova Scotia (La Rochelle, France) and proceeded to have 11 children. Prolific devil.

Moving to Europe, I became more aware of the European part of my personality. The first time I arrived in Europe I felt I had come home.

Over the years I took Swiss nationality, gave up my American nationality because of FATCA, and took Canadian nationality through my father.

What do I feel?

I'm a Swiss-Canadian writer born and raised in America. We spend a lot of time in Southern France. Yet, in all of them I'm a bit of an outsider. It doesn't mean I don't meld with some of local customs, follow the politics, celebrate national holidays. In Switzerland, I vote with religious fervor during the many votations during the year.

When I go back to Boston, I feel even more of an outsider, one with a lot of memories, good and bad, as one would have in any life. 

Thinking of myself as an outsider isn't bad. I observe things that people who lived in the same place wouldn't notice. It's enriching.

Maybe a better term than outsider might be international. 

Or I could use the French word Melange, mixture. 

Or, or, or maybe it doesn't matter. I'm me.