What's it like being a Diplomat Kid?

Traditional Korean music filled the air as servers dressed in traditional Korean hanboks entered the dining hall of the Intercontinental Hotel in the heart of Seoul. While this might not be a common Saturday activity for most second graders, it was not entirely uncommon for me.  Dressed in my traditional Filipino attire, the filipiniana, known to have prominent butterfly sleeves, I sat waiting for my food to be served along with all the other children dressed in their countries’ attire at the “Little ASEM.” This youth-friendly event was meant to engage the younger generation in global issues (such as environmental, cultural, and political topics) in anticipation for the ASEM (Asia-Europe Meeting) taking place later that week.

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing there. I knew nothing about the Philippines; my whole understanding of the world around me was only in the confines of my Seoul International School-upbringing. Seven-year-old me had no idea what anyone was talking about in that conference, but I knew it was my duty as a diplomat’s daughter. Do what you are told and act accordingly in public, and the event will soon be over, my mother’s voice echoing in my mind.  

So there I was, sitting in the grand ballroom, watching the servers dance around us to music while carrying our entrées and gracefully serving us as the music faded in the background. Just by looking at it, I could tell that the dish was exquisite; it looked like it was straight out of a Michelin star restaurant. Right before I started eating, I eyed all the silverware surrounding the plate. I recalled this place setting. I remembered what my mother taught me in "etiquette class,” as I called our practices back at home. And like clockwork, I recalled the rules in order:

1. Step one: place napkin in lap
2. Step two: work your way inwards per course, starting with the outmost utensils furthest from your plate
3. Remember: appearance is everything

With every sip, every nibble, and every lift of my silver spoon, I had to make sure I was perfect. I was representing the Philippines with each bite. 

As a Filipina diplomat kid who grew up in South Korea and in Egypt, I learned early on in life that I represented not just my family, but a nation. I was the extended representation of “my country,” one that I was not familiar with, but considered “my country” nonetheless. 

I was like a sponge, soaking in what the environment around me was telling me to do, and I was too afraid to do anything that would be ‘outside the box,’ knowing how it would reflect back on my family, my mom’s job, and our country. I was taught to obey my elders, obey authority, stay in line. The diplomatic community I grew up in reinforced that this was the ‘right’ thing.

This routine obedience led me to disregard my inner voice – what you listen to when you have a gut feeling. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this routine disregard was slowly chipping away at my inner voice. I stuffed that voice way deep down inside because I believed that authority was always right. 

For example, when I took part in my first swimming class in Egypt, the swimming instructor told us all to jump into the deep end. I had never taken swimming lessons prior to this, but I trusted authority so much that I just jumped in the deep end, thinking he would know what’s best for me. I jumped in and almost drowned. Thankfully, a lifeguard saw and rescued me. What I didn’t know was that everyone else in the class had prior swimming experience and the instructor assumed everyone in his class was placed accordingly. I never spoke up, partly because I didn’t know how, and partly because I didn’t know it was an option.

I also translated the standard of perfection to my personal identity and life as a Third Culture Kid. When moving to countries/schools/homes and even when saying goodbye to friends, little-Marie thought perfection meant that I couldn’t show ‘weakness’ in front of others. I thought that crying made me weak so, when faced with goodbyes, I wouldn’t let my tears flow. I was being strong. I was being perfect. I was being a good example to the other diplomat kids around me, and especially being a good diplomat kid myself.

Whether in direct conversations about diplomatic events or just responses from my environment, the messaging around me reinforced that my thoughts and emotions didn’t matter, as long as I was perfect. I had to suck it up and move on for the good of those around me.

As an Adult Third Culture Kid, it took a long time before I found healthy ways to confront my people-pleasing tendencies. If I could go back in time, I wish I could have learned to set aside the ideas of ‘reputation’ and ‘public image’ and instead learned to be confident in who I was becoming. I wish I could have cried more and allowed myself to grieve all the changes that were happening to me.

There were also a lot of good things I learned from being a diplomat kid. Being a Diplomat’s Daughter taught me people skills. I know how to be professional and don’t get intimidated when I need to interact with powerful people. I also grew up with a unique perspective of the world. I got to see things from a global lens and easily navigate between cultures. It helped me empathize with so many different kinds of people around the world.

Although it was tough growing up as a Diplomat’s Daughter and there are things that I do need to process and grieve, like having to say goodbye to so many people in my life at a young age, I can genuinely say I am thankful for it all. I am thankful for the highs and lows, the smiles, the tears, the hello and goodbyes, the homes, the countries, the friends, the cultures, the transitions, and everything in between. Seeing TCK Training's research show so many other TCKs (including foreign service TCKs like me) experienced these highs and lows has been helpful.

Maybe, if you are a diplomat kid, you can relate to my story. While celebrating the advantages we have from the diplomat life, maybe you sense the need for your inner voice to be heard as well. If so, I recommend that you take time to process and learn to connect with your emotions, to get to know your own wants, thoughts, and needs. Over time, we find that inner voice and begin to live in the confidence to express ourselves. Don’t be afraid of therapy. Sometimes we need it as we learn to balance living in the reality of who we were but also who we know we want to become.