Ethnicity and identity: who am I?

Ethnicity can be confusing,  Hazal Kirci tells us why being mixed-race left her feeling confused…

Ethnicity. Please choose an option from the dropdown menu. Choosing your ethnicity on an application form for a job or a simple survey shouldn’t be as hard as it is for me. Often the options consist of the usual White British, Black African and sometimes the very specific Asian-Bangladeshi for example.

Unfortunately, it’s never so clear cut for me. Out of the many forms I have filled in my entire life, “Turkish Cypriot” has only ever been a possible option once. The fact of the matter is, I don’t know whether I’m “White Other” or simply “Other”, despite having to choose either option each time. I don’t even know if I’m European or Asian. As an island just off the coast of Turkey am I Middle Eastern? I don’t feel like I can identify with that either.

Let me try and explain. As a Turkish Cypriot, I feel as if my identity is more aligned to Turkey as opposed to the little island just off the coast of Turkey that Cyprus is. That’s where my family’s culture and values have come from and what has been projected onto me from a young age.

I don’t even know if I’m European or Asian. As an island just off the coast of Turkey am I Middle Eastern? I don’t feel like I can identify with that either.

Admittedly, I have definitely shrugged off a lot of these values,but I still count it as a part of me and my heritage. Yet, it doesn’t even belong to the country that my parents are from. I love Cyprus; we try and holiday there every year, I have family there and my parents and grandparents have history there.But how far does this history go back? How many generations of my family have even lived in Cyprus and were they originally from Turkey or did they simply become “Turkish” under the Ottomans?

You might not realise this if you’re White British, but having access to birth certificates and online family trees is a huge privilege when looking into ancestry. It might not be as easy as 1-2-3, but it certainly beats my way of looking into it; speaking to my grandma who likely doesn’t have a birth certificate. Therefore, anything she doesn’t already know about her ancestors is lost information to me. I feel as if I have no history.

My identity “crisis” unfortunately just keeps on going. For those who know me, I am identified by my frizzy, curly hair, a trait that is usually associated with those of mixed-race heritage. All throughout my teens I was met with the assumption that I had ‘black’ in me. Maybe my dad was black and my mum was white.

“Are you sure you’re only Turkish?” No, and I don’t know, were always my answers. I can only speculate. Cyprus is a mishmash of different people. There are definitely ‘typical’ Turkish looks, but that can range from fair-haired and blue eyed, like one of my cousins, to dark and brown-eyed, like another cousin on the same side of the family (both are full Turkish Cypriot).

All throughout my teens I was met with the assumption that I had ‘black’ in me. Maybe my dad was black and my mum was white.

Although I’m not alone (there are many, many Turkish Cypriots in London alone), I certainly feel displaced. Which history is mine? I study English and I’ve grown up in Britain my whole life, but that’s not me. The rich history of Cyprus is a complicated tapestry in which it passed through the hands of many before it reached where it is today. That too is not mine.

So do I turn to Turkey, the country I’m slowly growing disillusioned with? Suffice it to say, I have a lot of problems with my heritage. Or is the importance of heritage overstated? Maybe. And maybe I’ll begin to realise that as I grow older, learning to let go of anything that simply isn’t me and embracing what is, is a far better deal anyway