WHAT COLOR
IS ACCEPTABLE? A MILITARY B.R.A.T. THIRD CULTURE KID ON REPATRIATION.
I
by Sonja L. Motley-Turman
t’s 1962. I am sleeping on my mother’s lap on my way to Germany. This is the first stop on my travels with my parents. My father served in the U.S. Army for more than 25 years. My mother Edna and I traveled the world with for many years. My grandmother knew that her daughter and her granddaughter were planning on living in Germany. Before I came along, my father, T.L., Thomas Lathum stated “I don’t make girls.” Well I arrived female and was born June 1961. Dora, my grandmother noted, that I wouldn’t blend that very well in Bremerhaven, Germany. She decided that my father needed some help and suggested that he name me Sonja, after Sonja Henie a famous ice
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skater from Norway. My grandmother loved watching her skate and thought that would be a perfect name for me to help the path to acceptance. On our way to Germany, I was feel asleep on my mother, settling in for a long flight. We were on our way — the first leg of our journey: destination Germany. As children do, I became curious about my surroundings after my nap. I put my head up above the headboard that was in front of us. As I surveyed the crowd, my mother told me that someone said, “Hey there’s a baby on board.” Keep in mind a lot of these passengers were GIs, newly enlisted and singles without families. These were the days where there was no ill thought of letting a nearby passenger hold your baby. I was passed around like a new toy on Christmas day. I was accepted. My grandmother’s advice about my name was kind of funny thinking back. The first issue was, well, it never became an issue. My babysitters, as well as my nanny, were German and I spoke German and English. I was accepted. After Germany it was
