Paul Crowe, 27, lives in Hawaii, where he captains a boat and teaches scuba diving. He has thick blonde hair and a sturdy build; wears faded jeans, a red rugby shirt, and sports a deep copper tan. He is articulate, has a degree in marine biology, and is at ease discussing virtually any topic. He likes the Lakers, and tends to vote Democrat. His accent is sharp and smooth, his choice of words, careful. In many ways he fits the bill of a well-educated twenty-something American. Except Paul doesn’t know where he is from.

 

zerland, Thailand, Florida, New York, Hawaii, Indonesia, Oman, Malaysia, the Marshall Islands and Maryland. His nationality is merely a term that exists on a piece of paper known as a passport, a document littered with stamps, visas and tacked-on pages that he carries discreetly in his jeans' pocket.  “When I tell people where I’ve lived, where I’ve been, where I’m from, most of them think I’m either bragging or lying. So I keep it quiet,” he says.

                                                                     [Photo above by Victor-Cobo  ] 

 

Nomads through birth
Paul is not alone. He is part of an expanding group of young Americans who grew up in a smattering of countries, none of them necessarily the one indicated on the cover of their passports. These nomadic people have been given a name: Third Culture Kids (TCKs). Professor Ruth Hill Useem of Michigan State University coined the term in a series of lectures and papers. Loosely, the term applies to people who as children were lugged around to foreign countries by parents pursuing work in rapidly growing international fields.