Identity, Displacement, and Coming of Age with Banat Collective

Abstract

S omehow summer is the least peaceful time of year. The summer of 2018 was no exception. I had just finished writing my dissertation two weeks before boarding a flight to Libya to visit family. Leading up to my trip, a sense of uncertainty about the future began to loom over my head. After I completed my degree, would my family pressureme to return to Libya? If so,what were the best options formywellbeing?Most important, howwould I cope or fit in? The last time I had lived in Libya for more than a few weeks was in 2007, when my parents decided that we would settle down in Zawiyah after spendingmore than ten years in the United Kingdom. Four years later, after the uprisings of 2011, we returned to London. I have been in the British capital since then, save the annual visit to Libya. When I remember the time I spent in Zawiyah, I recall that I always felt a distance from others around me that competed with the geographic separation between Libya and the United Kingdom. Although I understood most of what happened around me, before 2011 my time there was riddled with confusion and doubt. I was constantly trying to create a bubble aroundmyself to feel safe. Being seen as “weird” or “odd” because I had grown up elsewhere was much easier when everything else was good. I did not long for detailed conversations with relatives over chai about whether theUnitedKingdomwasbetter thanLibya orwhether I knewhow todance. Books, memoirs, and even reruns of films on MBC2 proved great companions. From what I saw, Libyan women had the same relationship of escapism with makeup and fashion as Libyanmen had with tobacco and bottomless coffee. Coffee was everywhere in Libya. My brother was always awed by the amount of coffee Libyans drank in a day despite the sweltering weather. He found it funny that they