What it means to be Dutch
I am an American who happens to have a Dutch last name. That’s one of the surprising things I’ve learned while living in the Hague this year.
Here’s an essay I wrote for the Reformed Journal…
I am an American who happens to have a Dutch last name. That’s one of the surprising things I’ve learned while living in The Hague this year.
Frankly, I had expected something quite different. I thought I would feel a lot more Dutch. What would you have expected to feel if all your ancestors, going back several centuries, were born in this country? Read more…
Photo: (above) My walk to work in the morning (when I’m not riding my bike and contending with hundreds of cyclists) is through the grounds of the Clingendael Institute, where I share space mostly with dog walkers. It’s here that I contemplate what it means to be Dutch. (below) The signboard outside the American Protestant Church of the Hague.
I really enjoyed your "What it Means" post. You get the "over-confident American tourist" part just right, along with that tinge of sadness.
It's such a funny thing to be an immigrant, isn't it? So, I'm 2nd generation with 3 of my grandparents born there, probably the same as you. It absolutely shaped my childhood, but now? Yes, it's a hobby. We get the cuteness of being Dutch, and the bonket at Christmas. What a different thing it must be to be a first- generation immigrant not living in the enclave, who no longer fits in any world.
And I too get teary at the Kinder Parade, but for me it’s because I have that stab of wondering if maybe THIS is what the beloved community looks like? And it’s such a relief from the blandness and uniformity of all blondes and blue eyes that we grew up with. And because it is so deliciously funny.