I was born and raised in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean on a beautiful group of islands called the Faroe Islands. The Faroes is known for its extraordinary nature and I am blessed to call the country my home.
I’m 23 years old. My father and mother met in Thailand 25 years ago and my mother was the second Thai woman to arrive in the Faroes. I have my mother’s darker skin and hair colour and, because of this, I’ve received a lot of attention – both good and bad.
In school I was a victim of racism. My mixed race background is something I can’t control – it’s a part of my existence. So experiencing so much hatred towards not only my own heritage, but also my mother’s, was very hard and unforgettable. It leaves a mark.
Being a mixed race child hasn’t always been easy. As a child you don’t want to be different. You share the same interests as the other children, you play the same games and you practically act the same way as any other child. The only difference between me and the other children was the colour of my skin. I couldn’t understand why that was a problem – and it took me years to understand that it isn’t.
My parents were my biggest role models when I was a child and because my father was a sailor I spent most of the time with my mother. My mother doesn’t speak Faroese fluently, but I imitated her regardless, like every child does with their mother. I didn’t know I was pronouncing words incorrectly until I was being laughed at by my classmates, as if there was something wrong with me. I don’t think they understood that my mother didn’t speak the same language as theirs. Little things like this led to bullying, which made me realise that other people saw me as somehow different. My skin colour was wrong, my mother didn’t belong here and neither did I.
When the bullying stopped I was still full of anger and shame. For quite some time I was ashamed of my background and didn’t want to hear about it.
Today I have learned to be proud of my background. It is something that makes me stronger – it’s who I am. Sometimes my friends and I joke about me being mixed and it’s okay, as long as it doesn’t get too personal. It’s still a tender part of me and I actually wish people knew that.
I’ve only visited my family in Thailand a couple of times, even though I am very curious about getting to know that part of me. Living in the Faroes, I can’t seem to be able to find that part of me – it’s as if it doesn’t exist, but somewhere in my heart I know it does. It’s as if a wholeother part of me exists in another country in another continent – it’s almost as if it is in another world!
The cultural differences between Thailand and the Faroe Islands are significant, but my mother has been trying to educate my siblings and I about Thai culture. When I talk about my Thai heritage with my friends they all say, “but Lena, you’re Faroese!” But that’s not the whole truth.
Sure, I’m Faroese but I’m just as much Thai as I am Faroese, so why forget that?
Through the years there have been more and more immigrants arriving in the Faroes. I’m okay with it, but hope they take an interest in getting to know the country, its culture and its traditions. It really breaks my heart when I see people moving here from different countries and not respecting our culture or our way of life.
From my mother’s experiences I know that the Faroese language is hard to learn, but if you want to survive here, you have to try. And also, you have to learn to live with the smell of all the fermented foods, which is a big part of the food culture here!
I can only imagine how hard it must have been for my mother. She didn’t have any other choice than to learn to speak Faroese, because the Faroese didn’t really speak or understanding English. I’m very proud of her, as I imagine her going through the struggle. She left her home for somewhere almost 13,000 kilometres away to start a new life – and she did!
She might be the strongest woman I know.
