For the Migrant Souls in London…
“Man’s true homeland is his childhood.” — Rainer Maria Rilke
Every migration is, in a sense, a departure; sometimes a search, sometimes an escape. Walking through the streets of London, we know we are not alone. Every accent, every expression we encounter carries the shadow of another culture. For us Turks, migration often becomes a tangled bridge between past and present, roots and branches, home and the wider world.
This piece is written for the thousands of Turkish citizens living in London, but even more so for every soul that has ever migrated. Because within each of us lives an Odysseus. And within each of us stirs that quiet night-time question: “Where do I truly want to return?”
Odysseus’ ten-year struggle to return home after leaving Troy was not merely a sea voyage. It was a search for belonging. For “going home” is often not about returning to a place, but to a feeling. To identity, to warmth, to familiarity… or perhaps to a part of ourselves that never really left.
Countless studies on migration reveal that migrants gradually experience a “crisis of identity.” According to a 2021 study conducted at University College London, 47% of long-term migrants report experiencing “belonging crises” from time to time, while 31% say they never fully feel a sense of “home” anywhere.
For many Turks in London, this city is a land of opportunity. But it is also a land of nostalgia. Each new success, each behaviour we adapt to fit in, quietly erodes an old pattern within us. Over time, this creates an inner conflict: “Do I belong here, or there?” And the harder question: “Who am I?”
Psychologist Carl Rogers argued that unless a person lives in harmony with their true self, they cannot preserve their psychological wholeness. For this reason, every migrant longs for a twofold journey at once: to adapt to the country they live in, while not losing their authentic self. To open outward, and at the same time to turn inward.
Many Turks in London carry this question silently. Perhaps while sitting alone in a café, perhaps while trying to teach their child Turkish, or perhaps when hearing their mother’s voice on WhatsApp… Should I return?
As sociologist Zygmunt Bauman observed, “Modern man is not a citizen of a place, but a traveller living in uncertainty.” And this uncertainty often leads us to romanticise the idea of return. Yet we must remember: return does not always have to be geographical. Sometimes it can be a return to our values, our meanings, our relationships — in other words, a return to “us.”
In both professional life and personal growth, returning is not a weakness, but a sign of strength. Growth is not always about moving forward; sometimes it is about changing direction. We know many people here in London who have built successful careers, raised children between two cultures, and left a mark while keeping their ties to Turkey alive. Their common strength lies in one thing: they have managed to “grow without losing themselves.” According to a report by the British Psychological Society, migrants who preserve their cultural integrity are more likely to form healthy social bonds and experience lower levels of burnout in the long term.
So, what can we do individually?
Strengthen Our Inner Anchors: Integrate the values, identity, and meanings we belong to with our life in London.
Build Community Connections: Share experiences with those of similar backgrounds, realising we are not alone.
Evaluate Return Without Romanticising It: Understand our inner desires and analyse our needs with clarity and composure.
Create Bridges: Develop habits that connect our life here with our roots in Turkey — Turkish books, traditional meals, cultural practices…
Perhaps the Odysseus within us will never set foot in Ithaca. Yet through the journey, he will grow. And perhaps what we call “returning home” is not about boarding a plane at all, but about drawing closer to ourselves, our values, and our essence.
For every Turk living in London, this city is not merely a station. For some, it is the destination; for others, a temporary harbour. But the real question we all must ask is this: “Who am I, and to which home do I wish to return?”
And maybe, just maybe, the answer lies not in the streets of London, but in the Ithaca within us.