The Vanguard

I’ve been thinking a lot about community and identity lately; blame uni for this – one of my units started banging on about ideas of community and nationhood, and as you’d expect, it’s kinda stuck in my mind. I’ve never really given my ancestry as much importance as perhaps others might’ve. For most of my life, I’ve considered myself Australian. As I’ve gotten older, and fallen more in love with Britain and the UK and learnt more about where my family comes from, other than Australia, I’ve had a growing sense that ‘Australian’ just doesn’t quite complete me. My British ancestry isn’t from, say, three generations ago. It comes straight from my mother. I can get a British passport because my mother was born in Liverpool.

I still remember her telling me once to go home, home meaning the UK. I’ve never forgotten that, and I suppose that’s when I had this dawning sense of being half-English. Okay, if I’m honest, a third Australian, a third British, and a third Welsh. Mum’s mother’s family are Welsh, and Granddad carried a Welsh flag when he used to march with the Normandy vets in the ANZAC Day marches.
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It’s funny what a change in perspective can do for you.

I’ve been thinking about my ancestors recently. ANZAC Day always brings them to the fore. I’m almost ashamed I give them so little thought during the rest of the year.

When I was divined, Hemet (AUS) told me that my ancestors were proud of me. Even now, to think on those words makes me choke up and want to cry, and I still have no word for the emotion it elicits from me.

To carry the name of your ancestors by choice is a big decision. One might be named after them at birth, but to choose a name once taken by a relative is quite significant. I’m at that point in my life where I plan to do this, but I’m yet to ask permission from my ancestors to do so. I feel it’s only right before taking their name as my own.

I still think on my maternal grandparents a lot. I do miss them greatly, and I still can’t shake the feeling that Grandad’s Welsh flag is meant for me. One day I’ll carry it for him in his honour.

Not a long post tonight, I know, but I needed to get these thoughts down before bed. They’ve waited a long time to be written.

Also, I’ll be writing up my thoughts on Dawkins’ little tirade against New Age stuff on Sunday. Won’t that be a laugh?