The Box

It is always difficult to articulate, but with a very strange preconceived notion of what a Diplomat is defined as, and seen as by the outside world, the inner sanctum of the Diplomatic world becomes even stranger and boxed in.

Here is what I grew up with:

My Father was always worried about our safety and security, we were in often very volatile countries. Yes, there was a great deal to see and do, but they had to be done under his guidelines (often incredibly strict ones).

My Mother was always preoccupied with our manners and our dress. You might think that is odd, but you don’t often see many diplomatic kids with coloured hair, strange (stand out fashionistas, or daring wardrobes) fashion choices, piercings or tattoos.

You are often seen as representing your country at all times, even with your grades, your interests, and sports. You feel judged while on posting, and your Father gets those reports in odd side bar conversations.

What this equals: Being put in a very tiny box, a box that has and sees no imagination, it is stifling, and often times, very depressing.

As much as I have a huge passion for cultures and anthropology, it was not the right path. What we are told and shown as diplomatic kids, is that there is no other career choice. You are constantly surrounded by business and politics. Anything on the artistic side was meant for a hobby, and starting your own business was completely out of the question, or at least in my family it was.

Often times one has a very different perception of the world, you grow up very quickly on one hand, you gain the ability to speak like an adult, have deep analytical and political conversations as a pre teen, yet you have had no real freedom to express who you really are or who you want to be.

It took waking up in my 30’s to realize, that that box wasn’t appealing, and breaking out of it, meant walking away from a life, friends and colleagues that thought I was rejecting them and their life.



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