You belong where you say you belong.

I've been in Italy now for around ten days, and the first five sucked because I kept telling myself that this wasn't where I belong.

It isn't my language.

It isn't my culture.

Why am I so tied to a country where I don't belong?

This kind of mentality, as you might imagine, does not a pleasurable trip make.

But as I walked along the narrow vicoli, I wondered what makes me feel like I belong somewhere.

Is it knowing the ins and outs of the culture? Being born with the language? Having family and friends around?

And I wondered if it was all just a copout -- a way for me not to try to integrate or to make an effort to belong in my own way.

I realized that it was less about where I was and more about me.

What if we belong where we want to belong?

Because if you want it badly enough, don't things eventually fall into place?

Hi, I’m Cher!

I write about the place where business + social responsibility meet. When I'm not researching whatever my latest obsession is, you can find me re-watching Remember the Titans, posting on Insta @chertakesprettypictures, or hiking somewhere in the PNW. If you're interested in working with me on a marketing or PR campaign, I do that, too.

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