What it’s like to move every two years

“Where are you from?”

You’d think after 19 years I’d have a set response for this by now.

My family moves every two years, and for different reasons almost each time. I was born in Colombia, then moved to Spain, then New York, then two different cities in Virginia, and then California.

When you realize you have to move again

So if I respond “Colombia,” I get “Oh, your English is so good!”

If I respond “California,” I’m not being completely honest am I?

If I respond “My family moves around a lot,” I’ve dragged myself into the at least five minute long conversation I’ve had countless times along with the inevitable questions, “So, where have you lived?” and “Is your dad in the military?”

I’ve now settled for mostly responding with “I was born in Colombia but my family moves around a lot.”

New York

The moving was difficult at first – I was a shy kid and had a difficult time making friends. As time went on, though, I learned how to strike up conversations with random people and keep them talking about whatever topic, until I decided I wasn’t interested in anymore.

Though it was hard to leave the friend groups I had worked so hard to make for the past two years and start all over again, it really helped me learn how to talk to people and appreciate different cultures and ideologies as I moved.

The biggest change was from Spain to New York, where I had to learn a completely new language and was put into a completely new and strange culture. I worked hard to learn the language, and after less than a year was the one student chosen out of my fourth grade class to go into the school-wide spelling bee competition (I lost, but hey, I tried).

Started from the bottom now we’re here (California)

One of the best things about moving often is the ability to start all over. When I moved to California I knew that no one had any idea the kind of person I was while in Virginia, New York, or even Spain. I was “the new girl,” and always called the “new girl.” It was almost my second name.

For a while, a big part of my identity was “new girl”- there is no personality attached to it, no constricting box to be placed into. “New girl,” to me, was freedom.

It wasn’t Natalia, or Nat, or Tallie, or Bambi or any of my many nicknames. It was something I could take into my hands and mold into whatever I wanted to be for those two years, however I wanted people to perceive me. I still respond whenever anyone says anything about a “new girl,” as it will always be ingrained in my nature as a part of me.

So when people ask me, “What’s moving every two years like?” I want to tell them: freeing.