Many of you have probably heard the comparison of TCKs to chameleons. And maybe you feel broken because of this. Camille Thurston shares the many questions you may have asked yourself or may be asking right now. To read her conclusion, read until the end.

Have you ever felt the stares of a million eyes? Has the hair on the back of your neck ever stood in attention so fast you just knew someone was watching? Can you feel it now? I can. I can feel every piercing glance, every doubletake, every nudge to look and see. I can feel the questions in their minds. The curiosity. The confusion. Why is she here? What does she want? Who is she?
That’s the life of a TCK*, though, right?
Have you ever felt the swallowing depth of loneliness in a sea of people? Have you ever felt like if you disappeared in the blink of an eye, no one would notice? Can you feel it now? I can. I can feel my body move as if it’s floating, invisibly passing hundreds, thousands of people unnoticed. The indifference. The confusion. Was she ever here? Did she even exist? Would it matter?
That’s the life of a TCK, though, right?
I spent ten years of my life being watched in South Asia. Every move was seen, scrutinized, noticed, commented on, questioned. Then in the blink of an eye, or rather three flights and a car ride or two later, I was invisible. Just another white girl living in America. Inconsequential. Until I spoke. Until I told my story…or at least tried to. The staring, the curiosity, the confusion. But then something new. Resentment, maybe? Jealousy? Annoyance? Disinterest. Every time I was asked the most basic of questions, I somehow felt both watched and invisible. You might know that one gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, mind reeling, question that starts it all: Where are you from? I used to love this question. It used to feel empowering to tell my story. Thrilling, even. Then the eye rolls of those already familiar with it began. My story, in their eyes, became bragging, a way to one-up my peers with their “I lived in the same house my whole life” story that to me was absolutely mind-blowing to comprehend.
That’s the life of a TCK, though, right?

I have lived the past twelve years going somewhat unseen in America. Do you know what it feels like to be recognized but not known? Do you know what it feels like to be greeted but not welcomed? Can you feel it now? I can. I can slip in and out of parties, churches, events, and homes, noticed yet forgotten. I can be greeted with open arms and smiles but not open lives. The hurt. The confusion. Do I belong? Am I cared about?
That’s the life of a TCK, though, right?
I was told I am resilient, adaptable. I was told I am a chameleon. Do I blend in? Am I invisible? Am I two-faced, changing who I am or how I look to suit my surroundings? I once thought I was broken. In many ways, I am. But I am not broken because I don’t fit in. I am not broken because I’ve struggled to adapt to a country that is supposedly my “home” country. I am not broken because my story is different. I am not broken because I look and sound different. No. I am not broken. I am a chameleon, though, in its truest form, changing colours to express myself! To stand out! To attract! To communicate! To be seen how I want!
That is the life of a TCK.
*Third Culture Kid, as defined by David Pollock and Ruth Van Reken, is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents’ culture.

Since she was 11 years old, Camille has had the mission of strengthening, equipping, and encouraging families worldwide. Her passion for working with families was nurtured as she grew up in India, Bangladesh, and Thailand as a missionary kid. Camille has a Master of Science in Family and Community Services from Oklahoma State University and now works in full-time ministry with an organization called Timothy Partners. She works to support missionary families by ensuring the schools their children attend are fully staffed, fully funded, and fully thriving. The partner schools she works with exist to provide high-quality, affordable, Christ-centered education.