"Navigating Two Worlds: The Personal and Social Challenges of Being Scottish-Italian"

Having a Scottish-Italian heritage means living in the space between two vibrant, yet very different, cultures. It’s a journey of discovering who I am in a world where the pull of two identities often feels like opposing forces. While I embrace the richness of both Scotland and Italy, I can’t ignore the challenges that come with trying to fit into both worlds at once.

I’ve often found myself caught between two distinct cultural worlds. On one hand, there’s the proud Scottish side—the love of storytelling, a good dram of whisky, and the deep-rooted history of resilience. On the other, there’s the Italian side—the passion for family, the joy of big, noisy meals, and the sense of warmth that comes with every celebration. It can be difficult to know where I belong, especially when one culture pulls me in one direction and the other pulls me in another.

Each culture has its own way of doing things. In Scotland, there’s a reserved nature to how we express love or frustration, while in Italy, emotions run high, and family is at the centre of everything. As someone who carries both these traditions, I sometimes feel torn. Do I embrace the stoic, independent Scottish values, or do I lean into the close-knit, open-hearted Italian spirit? At times, I feel like I’m being asked to choose between the two, and honestly, that can feel exhausting.

What’s even harder is how others see me. In Scotland, I’ve sometimes felt like an outsider, especially when I’m around people who seem to embody Scottishness in ways I can't quite match. On the flip side, in Italy, I’ve felt like I don’t measure up to the expectations of what it means to be truly Italian. In both places, I find myself constantly navigating that space of being too much of one thing and not enough of the other. It’s as if I’m always in the middle, never fully fitting into either world.

Being born to Italian parents and growing up in Scotland meant that the pressure to fit in started early. From the moment I stepped into school, I knew I was different from most of my peers. My name, the food, the way my family celebrated —it all set me apart. While other kids talked about their family traditions, mine always felt a bit foreign to them, and I quickly learned that I had to work harder to blend in. This need for acceptance created an underlying sense of not truly belonging, and over time, the feeling of having to prove myself became a constant presence in my life.

In the schoolyard, there were subtle reminders that I didn’t quite fit. My Italian name felt awkward when it was mispronounced, and the cultural differences that shaped my upbringing became more apparent when I tried to connect with my Scottish classmates. I remember wanting to explain why my family did things differently—whether it was the big Sunday meals or why certain holidays held different significance—but instead, I often just stayed quiet. I felt this pressure to assimilate, to mute the Italian side of me, just to feel more accepted.

But the social pressures didn’t stop at school. At home, there was another set of expectations—those tied to my Italian heritage. I was raised with strong Italian traditions, values, and the importance of family, and while I embraced that, there was always this nagging feeling of not being "Italian enough." My parents held on to their culture and wanted to pass it on to me, but growing up in Scotland meant that I was shaped by a different environment, too. I felt like I was navigating two worlds: one where I was expected to uphold the family traditions and values, and another where I was trying to blend into Scottish society.

The weight of these social pressures—on both sides—often left me feeling torn. In Scotland, I felt like an outsider because of my Italian background, and in my Italian family, I struggled with the sense that I wasn’t quite living up to the cultural expectations. Whether it was assumptions about my interests, personality, or even career aspirations, there was always a feeling that people expected me to be more "Italian" or more "Scottish" depending on the situation. I had to walk a fine line, constantly adapting and trying to prove myself, never quite feeling like I fit completely into either culture.

This pressure to fit in, to mould myself into whatever version people expected me to be, shaped my sense of identity. It left me questioning where I truly belonged, and whether I was allowed to define myself  beyond these cultural labels. Over time, I’ve come to realise that my identity isn’t about choosing between being Scottish or Italian, but rather embracing both sides of who I am. But growing up with those social pressures has made it a complicated journey, and the feeling of having to prove myself has been hard to shake.

Family plays a huge role in both Scottish and Italian cultures, but the way we express it is different. The way Italians come together around the table, with laughter and long discussions, is in contrast to the Scottish way of keeping things more reserved and understated. These cultural differences have created tension at times, especially when it comes to family dynamics and traditions. How do I honour both? How do I make sense of the way I show love or take care of family when the expectations seem so different?

At the heart of it, being Scottish-Italian is a journey of self-acceptance. It’s not about choosing one side or the other; it’s about finding peace in the complexities and contradictions that make me who I am. Yes, there are challenges—feeling disconnected, misunderstood, or torn between conflicting expectations. But each of these struggles is part of what shapes my identity. And over time, I’ve come to realise that these challenges don’t define me; they are part of the beauty of my heritage.

I am Scottish and Italian, both, and neither. The contradictions are what make my experience unique, and embracing both sides has taught me a lot about flexibility, strength, and identity. I wouldn’t change it for the world, because it’s these very challenges that have helped me find a deeper connection to who I am and where I come from.

If you’re navigating something similar, know that you’re not alone. Our mixed identities are not something to fix—they’re something to celebrate. We are more than just the sum of our parts; we are the space in between, and that’s where the magic happens.