Until a few years ago, the issue of multicultural identity was not one that I gave any thought to. I am Egyptian, but because of my father’s line of work, I lived in many countries throughout my childhood. Later, I attended universities in the US. My grandmother was French and she never learnt to speak Arabic, and my siblings and I grew up speaking English, Arabic and French.

I married an Egyptian whose mother is Belgian and we have two sons. My husband was born in Belgium and only learnt to speak Arabic when he was about eight years old. Again, we travelled extensively with our children, who also speak three languages. Two years ago, our eldest son married a girl who was born and raised in Switzerland. Her mother is from the U.S. and her father is Pakistani. Our son and his wife live in Geneva, Switzerland. Our second son (born in Dakar, Senegal) is studying law in France, where he has lived, on and off, for over ten years.

There is a reason why I have bored readers with the above information. I believe that, on the surface, the circumstances in which I (and my husband) grew up were very similar to those in which our sons were raised. Yet I never felt the need to define my cultural identity and I have always felt comfortable wherever I lived. I can honestly say that I felt as much ‘at home’ living in France as I did when I lived in the US and, of course, in Egypt.

The same is not true for my sons. This was somewhat of a surprise to me because I had taken it for granted that they would grow up the same way I did, unfettered with questions of cultural identity and issues about ‘belonging’.

Unfortunately, two paradoxical developments have taken place, gradually, over the years; phenomena that did not exist when I was younger. The first is the loudly acclaimed shrinking of boundaries, the increased, but shallow, intermingling that results from advances in technology (Internet, television …).

The second change, perhaps a reaction to the first, is a growing need to categorize and identify people by religion (unheard of when I was growing up), by race (or ‘origin’ as they say in France) and by nationality. Sadly, this tendency now exists even within single cultures.

As a result, I see unease in my children that I never felt myself, one that I had not foreseen. I sometimes wonder if I should have done more to tie them to one specific culture. Should I have insisted on religious teaching, for example? Would they not have had a simpler life solidly attached to one specific culture and staunchly believing in one true religion?

The answer to these questions is, probably, YES. Their lives would have been simpler. They would have known, without a doubt, where they ‘belonged’. They would probably have also found it easier to conform, to follow blindly any social and cultural changes or tendencies adopted by the majority in the one and only culture they would have belonged to.

I do not regret the manner in which I brought up our sons. I believe that they, and the many others with ‘multicultural identities,’ must continue to be. Their discomfort is a small price to pay so that humanity will learn, eventually, that we are all one.