Dear Reader,

From the ages of about 4 to 18, every year we would go to Sardinia. It's the land of my father. We'd be there every summer and nearly every Christmas. It was supposed to be a second home. And in many ways it was. My father built a house there. Many of my cousins, aunts and uncles lived there. But in some ways I didn't feel like I belonged. Whenever I'd venture out visiting friends and relatives, strangers would always ask "where do you come from?"

This was a confusing question. My father is Sardinian. Didn't I come from Sardinia? I had a British accent and I lived in the UK, and so I would answer "I'm English". That's when I'd get the question I've heard countless times over my early life: "but where are you really from?"

I was born in the Philippines. I came to the UK at the age of 3. We lived in West London. Greenford. A suburb you'd forgettably pass on your way to Oxford or Bath. I went to Oldfields Primary School, 10 minutes walk from my house. I later moved to Visitation Primary School where I first met Laurence. We became true friends at Cardinal Wiseman High School next door. My family home is still there in Greenford. It was the centre of my world for quite a while.

And, I would still get the question "where are you from?". While the UK was now my home, I had an Italian passport. And so I would say, I'm Italian. Guess what? The next question would then be "but where are you really from?"

I look Filipino. Most people mistake me for Chinese, or sometimes Vietnamese. And so I guess, a lot of the time when people ask me "where are you really from?" they're probably asking "why are you here?". That question, over time for me, has turned into "where do I belong?"

I've been back to the Philippines only 5 times in my life. And every time, while I blend in quite naturally, I don't feel like I fit in. The culture, the weather, and the pace of life feels so alien to me. I have lots of family over there. Family that looks like me. But for some reason I don't feel at home.

The need to belong has been with me for a long time. It's guided my choices and behaviours. Sometimes for good, a few times for bad. More recently it's made me question what nationality am I really? To which country do I belong? Listening to a TED talk by Taiye Selasi, I've realised there's another question I could ask. Rather than work out where am I a national, I could ask where am I a local?

When it comes to understanding where I am a local, Taiye talks about ritual and relationships. If you're like me and you struggle to locate yourself in the world, I urge you to watch the talk.

Suffice to say, that talk made me think about my rituals, and it also made me think of my commitments. It made me realise which rituals ground me in a place and which commitments open me up to belonging.

There are a number of rituals that give me a sense of place. Every Sunday I swim in the sea in Brighton with the IceBreakers. Every Monday I teach kung fu in Hove. Every other Sunday I meet with my Men’s Group. These rituals are also commitments. Commitments to me and other people.

When I go back to Sardinia I always make sure to see my aunt and uncle, who live next door. We visit cousins. We go to my favourite beach. We eat ice cream. I drink lots of espressos. These are rituals that ground me in Olbia, Sardinia.

But while a big part of my heart is in Olbia, I feel my commitment is to Brighton.

And this has made me realise the other part of belonging. I used to think belonging was only about being received and accepted. But it's also about choosing and committing. For a long time I didn't think I belonged anywhere because I didn't feel fully accepted. But now I realise that I also need to commit to a place and to people.

In part this realisation has come from my work. The Happy Startup School isn't just a company. I've watched it become a community. A community where I really feel I belong.

I've accidentally built something I subconsciously really needed.

I thought that was the end of it. That I'd found my answer.

Then, this morning during my dip, I was talking to my friend Asis. His grandparents came over from India. He was born here, like his parents. I was telling him I was stuck trying to end this piece, and he said he knew the feeling of being asked "where are you really from?" He talked about his heritage. His Indian heritage.

And I noticed the word didn't land for me.

Heritage, to me, is being connected to a culture. Asis has that. Even born here, he's tethered to somewhere. I'm not sure I am. I don't feel connected to Filipino culture. The only culture I really feel part of is British. But I don't have British heritage.

My heritage points to places I don't feel at home. And the place I feel at home, I can't call heritage. I'm untethered at both ends.

This is why Taiye's words spoke to me. "Where am I a local" is an easier question for me to answer than "where do I belong". It's a question I feel I can answer honestly, as I do feel local in multiple places.

I don't have a single culture that holds me and I've now started to build one. Out of cold Sunday swims, out of the men I sit with every other week, out of a community I made before I understood I was making it for myself.

It’s a work in progress. And it’s a search that I’m continuing, a search I don't think will ever completely end. It’s deeply connected to the other questions of “who am I” and “what’s my work to do”.

But I'm no longer waiting to be told where I'm from.

I'm deciding, slowly, where I'm willing to belong.

Big love,

Carlos

P.S. If you'd like watch Taiye Selasi's talk check it out here.