Jon Theisen grew up in Denver, Colorado, U.S., but he moved 10 times within its metro area during his formative years. As a biracial Domestic Third Culture Kid, he discusses how geographic mobility and cultural fluidity may have shaped his expectations.
“I remember when you told black Latinas that they were black and they would want to fight you,” says Keka Araújo, as we discuss the recently fashionable topic of being Afro-Latina. “Some people want to make me biracial. I am not biracial; I am bicultural,” she continues. “I am unapologetically black.”
All the boys in his family have unique names — including titles. “Master Sedrique Lynn Von Olison,” he laughs. It’s an effortless, full-bodied diaphragmatic roar perfect for his towering six-foot-five frame, caramel skin and dazzling pearly whites. With a laugh as contagious as his personality, I found myself sunk, engulfed, all-in. And that’s Olison’s advice to you, as well.
An estimated five percent of the U.S. population grew up in a military family, but there is not one television show dedicated to its subculture. There are no academic studies or museums focusing solely on military children. There is no military brat or TCK section in your local library.
What if there were a way to feel like you were truly walking in someone else’s shoes? What if you could stroll along the streets of their hometown, sit at a table across from their family members and hear the rhythms of their daily life? Moreover, what if you could do this without ever leaving your house?
I attended journalism school and used my free time to write articles. I got one column, and later, a second one. Today, I’m amazed I didn’t quit sooner, but at 23, I was convinced I was on the right track. I won prizes and became newcomer of the year, so I ignored the fact that I wasn’t really happy. I didn’t have time to think about it, either.