A Question Of Belonging Part 5

When I immigrated to the unites states, to follow my American dream (yes, we non-Americans have that dream as well, sometimes even more strongly from the outside world) I didn't anticipate the sacrifice that was in store for me. 

Yes, I knew well that I would miss my family and friends, and my favorite foods and smells in my home town, and the language I grew to only speak and write in.
But I didn't fully understand the sacrifice that a full immersion would bring along.

It was in my first year in New York, at the acting conservatory I was a student in, that a light bulb turned on in my head: In the middle of a scene (Eugene O'Neill if I remember correctly) I had to say the words 'I LOVE YOU.'
But I have never said those words before. 
Those sounds never came out of my mouth with the vibrational pull that comes along when one utters words of love to another.
I have LOVED before, sure. Several times, in fact...
BUT I spoke Hebrew when I expressed those words before, so the actual words 'I LOVE YOU' were fresh and vacant of actual lived experience. 
Of course, I learned a lesson in acting and in SUBTEXT that day... BUT I also learned that 'If I want to have richness to those words in the same unconscious way I have when I utter them in Hebrew - I must practice what it's like to actually MEAN them in English.'

From that moment forward, I was set on fully immersing myself in the American culture, mentality, life, language... I worked tirelessly to eliminate my foreign accent and felt great pride when people were shocked to find out I wasn't, in fact, American. I especially enjoyed those moments when I'd catch surprised expressions when I admitted I didn't know who 'Mr. Rogers' was or other well known figures from people's childhoods didn't ring any bells to me. I was a foreigner despite my passing disguise. 

As 'passing' as I may have found myself, there were many situations that forced me to face that I was a foreigner no matter what.
Some may not know this, but legally immigrating to the US is no easy task. It takes a lot of dedication to go through the immigration process and I had my share of experiences, believe me. But also 'smaller' things would occur and remind me of what I was:
Say surveys and questionnaires, for instance.
I always found myself clicking the ‘other’ box, with a constant burning question running in my head: "Am I an OTHER? Other than WHO? Other than WHAT?"
I still ask that question. And I still feel like even in a simple survey - I don't belong. 
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After many years living in the US, fully immersing myself and for the  most part loving it dearly - little by little I have awakened to realize I've sacrificed a part of myself in taking on another identity. I LOST something. There was a loss of the person I would have grown to be had I didn't immerse. There was a loss of connection to the identity I once had. There was a loss of time.

In short, this mermaid started walking on two feet and before she knew it - she forgot about the ocean altogether.

But it's never too late to dip in.
Who knows? I may find out I am more than an OTHER.
Maybe I am all of it.
The other and another. And another. And another. And ANOTHER.