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Reflections from the fifth FIGT ANZA Global Mobility Authors’ Panel

By Dr. Anastasia Aldelina Lijadi

What does “home” mean when your life has unfolded across countries, languages and cultures? Is it the place you were born, the country written on your passport, the place where your family lives, or something we gradually learn to carry within ourselves?

These questions were at the heart of the fifth FIGT Australia and New Zealand (ANZA) Authors’ Panel, hosted by Sara Coggiola and Helen Ellis, held virtually on 16 September 2026. Six authors came together to explore the many dimensions of internationally mobile life, from migration and repatriation to identity, relationships, resilience and belonging.

The panel brought together Simeon Harrar, Sharon Khoo, Keri Bloomfield, Fabiola Campbell, and Samantha Frearson-Tubito, each approaching global mobility through a different personal and professional lens. Yet through their different stories, professions and geographies, a common thread emerged: perhaps home is not simply somewhere we return to. Perhaps it is something we build within ourselves.

When “going home” does not feel like home

One of the most powerful themes was the complexity of repatriation. The language we use around mobility can sometimes make returning sound simple. We leave, live abroad and eventually “go home.” But what if the country we call home no longer feels familiar? And what if, for our children, it was never home in the first place?

As one of the authors explained:

“Many families who repatriate don’t understand that their children are not experiencing reverse culture shock, but their first culture shock, because often they have never lived in their parents’ country of origin.”

This insight is particularly relevant to Third Culture Kids, whose experience of culture and identity may not fit neatly within national boundaries.

Sharon Khoo understands this journey from both sides. After spending part of her childhood in Edinburgh, she returned to Singapore at seven and found reintegration difficult. Years later, after raising her own daughters across four countries, she wrote Rooted, Resilient & Ready: Preparing Singaporean TCKs for Home to help other families better understand and prepare for repatriation.

But the feeling of being simultaneously “from” somewhere and somehow outside it is not limited to children. Another remark captured this beautifully:

“I felt like a hidden immigrant, even if I had the passport and I looked like everyone else.”

The phrase hidden immigrant challenges the assumption that belonging can be determined by appearance, nationality or legal status. Sometimes the greatest transitions are the ones other people cannot see.

Migration changes more than our address

For many people, moving countries also means negotiating changes in professional and personal identity.

Fabiola Campbell’s work speaks directly to this experience. The founder of Professional Migrant Women, she has drawn on her own experience of migrating to Australia and confronting the loss of professional identity, networks and visibility. Professional Migrant Women grew from those experiences into a community designed to help migrant women rebuild professional confidence, networks and leadership. The panel captured this transition in another simple but powerful phrase:

“Feeling like an imposter while dealing with the identity change.”

Migration can disrupt the external markers that once told us who we were: our profession, community, language, social standing or sense of competence.

But sharing those experiences can also be transformative:

“People felt more empowered when they learned they were not alone. Migration is a collective experience.” That movement from isolation to recognition is one of the reasons storytelling matters. When someone else gives language to an experience we have struggled to name, an individual challenge becomes part of a shared human experience.

Writing as a place to stand

For several of the authors, writing provided precisely that space.

“Writing became my safe space and an essential grounding tool.”

For Keri Bloomfield, writing became a source of connection as she navigated life in Denmark after moving there from New Zealand. Her memoir Nothing Like a Dane explores the reality of adapting to Danish life while preserving a sense of self. Bloomfield has described writing and connecting with others online as an important source of meaning and joy during the difficult early period of settling in Denmark.

Writing becomes more than documentation in these circumstances. It becomes a means of processing change, making sense of identity and creating continuity when everything around us feels unfamiliar.

The same relationship between storytelling and belonging can be found in the work of Simeon Harrar, a lifelong global nomad who was born to American missionary parents in Papua New Guinea and now lives in Nairobi, Kenya. His writing, including Between Worlds: My Life as a Missionary Kid and The Long Flight Home, draws on the experience of growing up between cultures and explores transition, identity and the question of finding one’s place in the world.

Belonging without becoming someone else

Global mobility often requires adaptation. We learn new customs, read unfamiliar social cues, change the way we communicate and sometimes reshape ourselves to fit a new environment.

Adaptability can be an extraordinary strength. But the panel also invited us to consider what happens when adaptation becomes self-erasure.

“When you try to become more palatable for everyone else, you don’t truly connect with others. You basically move away from your authenticity.”

And another memorable piece of advice captured the alternative:

“If you can’t hide it, make a feature of it.”

Perhaps successful integration is not about becoming indistinguishable from everyone around us. It may instead mean developing the confidence to contribute our difference.

Samantha Frearson-Tubito’s life illustrates just how layered an identity can become. Born in St. Kitts and Nevis, she spent her childhood across France and several African countries before attending boarding school in the UK. A third-generation global nomad, she has lived in 15 countries and 21 cities. Her book Beneath a Borrowed Sky: One Woman’s Search for the True Meaning of Home explores the very question that ran through the panel: what does home mean when no single geography can fully contain our story?

Relationships move across borders too

Global mobility does not only reshape individual identity. It can also change our closest relationships. When we move, relationships move too. Each person may experience transition differently, at a different pace and with different losses and opportunities.

Home as an inner journey

Perhaps the words that most completely captured the spirit of the conversation were these:

“After wandering for so many years around cultures and countries, I understood that the true sense of belonging, or the place I could call home, was within myself.”

And with that inner sense of belonging comes another kind of freedom:

“When you own every part of who you are, no one can take away your wholeness.”

Across five years, the FIGT ANZA Authors’ Panel has created a space where the global mobility community can encounter authors exploring relocation, identity, belonging, family, careers and life between countries.

This year’s conversation again demonstrated why these spaces matter. Stories give us language for experiences that can otherwise be difficult to explain. They reassure us that we are not alone. And they remind us that belonging does not necessarily require choosing between the different places and identities that have shaped us.

Perhaps the goal is not to discover the single place where we finally fit. Perhaps it is to learn to own the whole of who we have become, and to carry that sense of home with us wherever we go.

Our gratitude to all six authors for sharing their stories and insights, and to everyone who joined the conversation. Your presence, curiosity and willingness to share continue to make the FIGT community such a vibrant space for connection across cultures.

Meet the Authors

Simeon Harrar is an author, pastor, international speaker and lifelong global nomad. Born in Papua New Guinea, he has lived in six countries and now works with Third Culture Kids at an international school in Nairobi. His books explore transition, identity, faith and life between cultures.

Sharon Khoo is a Singapore-based writer, copywriter and copyeditor whose personal and family experiences of repatriation inspired Rooted, Resilient & Ready: Preparing Singaporean TCKs for Home, a resource for families navigating the return to Singapore.

Keri Bloomfield is a New Zealand-born author and writer living in Denmark. Her memoir Nothing Like a Dane explores integration, cultural difference, identity and the experience of building a life in Danish society while remaining authentically yourself.

Fabiola Campbell is an author, community builder and founder of Professional Migrant Women in Australia. Her work focuses on migrant women’s professional identity, leadership, visibility and confidence.

Samantha Frearson-Tubito is a third-generation global nomad, writer and author of Beneath a Borrowed Sky. Having lived across 15 countries and 21 cities, her writing explores identity, belonging and what it means to create and carry a sense of home across borders.

Anastasia is an Indonesian Psychologist renowned for her work on Third Culture Kids (TCK). She pursued her doctorate at the University of Macau and received awards from the International Institute of Qualitative Methods and the International Congress of Psychology. She serves as the Associate Editor for The International Journal of School & Educational Psychology and contributes to the Journal of Psychological Research. Her research was recognized by Ruth van Reken and featured in the book "TCK: The Experience of Growing Up Among Worlds". Currently residing in Austria, she's raising two TCKs and working on developing new human well-being indicators. Anastasia is deeply involved with FIGT, where she served as Research and Education Director (2019-2022). 

By Hanlie van Wyk

Co-founder, Leading Across Culture | PhD in Global Psychology | Cross-Cultural Leadership Expert

Pick up a pencil. Feel its weight. Notice the wood grain, the graphite tip, the eraser nub. Simple, right?

Wrong. Remarkably, no single person on earth knows how to make one.

In his classic 1958 essay "I, Pencil," Leonard Read unpacks this hidden miracle. Cedar logs are hauled from Oregon forests by loggers using steel saws. Graphite is mined in Sri Lanka. Clay arrives from Mississippi, mixed with ammonium hydroxide and sulfonated tallow. The lacquer coating comes from castor beans grown far away, and the eraser relies on rapeseed oil from Malaysia.

Millions of strangers (miners, chemists, truckers, and the cooks feeding logging camps) contribute to this one tool without a central coordinator or a master CEO dictating their steps. Yet, billions of pencils roll off production lines every year.

This is emergence: complex, beautiful order arising naturally from uncoordinated human effort. For those of us navigating life across borders, this isn't just an economic theory. It is a profound blueprint for how we live, raise families, and build community in global transition.

The Invisible Forces of the Global Nomad Life

Our lives as global nomads, expats, and Third Culture Kids (TCKs) mirror the pencil.

We often try to approach relocation, repatriation, and cross-cultural parenting with a rigid checklist. We try to map every variable, manage every outcome, and force a sense of top-down control over our environments. But reality—and culture—demands that we leave room for the "Invisible Hand" of human connection.

When we force rigid, "one-size-fits-all" rules onto our global transitions, things break down. We see this in the corporate world when Walmart tried to force American-style retail cheer onto German consumers, or when Home Depot assumed China would embrace DIY self-reliance. Both multi-million-dollar ventures failed because they tried to command what must instead emerge spontaneously.

The same thing happens in our living rooms. If we treat cultural adaptation like a phrasebook of strict "dos and don'ts," we miss the deeper magic of human intersection. We cannot force our children, our partners, or ourselves to perfectly blend into a new culture overnight. True belonging isn't commanded; it emerges.

Co-Creating Across Cultures: The 1-2-3 Playbook

How do we lean into emergence rather than fighting it? Drawing from global psychology and years of consulting with cross-cultural teams, here is a three-step playbook to help global families thrive:

1. Map Your Know-How Gaps

Before moving to a new country or stepping into a new community, ask yourself: "What link in this chain do I not understand?" Research shows that this kind of meta-awareness—simply spotting your own blind spots—massively improves cross-cultural success over rote memorization. Checklists teach you fixed facts; acknowledging your gaps allows you to adapt to the unknown.

2. Look "Three Links Deep"

When building a new life, look beyond the immediate surface. Map the invisible contributors to your ecosystem. If you are struggling to connect in a new host country, look at the wider context. High-context cultures prioritize relational nurturing over transactional tasks. By looking a few layers deeper into the local community's social fabric, we can transform abstract cultural theories into meaningful daily actions.

3. Trust the Process (Remove Barriers, Don't Enforce)

Set clear personal and family values, clear away the obstacles, and then let your new life self- organize. Instead of enforcing rigid expectations on how your transition "should" look, ask soft, intuitive questions like: "Does this feel right to us here?" Psychological safety is built when we allow our families to experiment, make cross-cultural blunders, and learn organically.

Embracing the Chaos, Creating the Connection

The world is changing faster than ever. Geopolitical rifts, shifting talent flows, and digital acceleration mean that our global lives cannot be fully mapped in advance. But the testimony of the humble pencil endures: Faith in organic, cross-cultural coordination beats rigid masterminding every time.

As a community dedicated to supporting families in global transition, our strength doesn't come from having all the answers or dictating a perfect path. It comes from our collective ability to sense emergence, embrace the beautifully messy layers of our identities, and trust the connections we build along the way.

Your move: Take a look at your current transition or global setup today. What beautiful, unexpected connection is waiting to emerge if you simply let go of the blueprint?

Hanlie van Wyk is a psychologist, researcher, and leadership consultant whose work explores how people communicate and connect across deep cultural, ideological, and historical divides. With more than two decades of international experience across Africa, Europe, and the United States, Hanlie works at the intersection of social psychology, organizational leadership, and intercultural dynamics—helping leaders, teams, and families find constructive ways to engage through difference.

She developed the Four Powers Model—a practical framework for understanding and shifting power dynamics in conversation, bridging the gap between self-awareness, social systems, and ethical action. Hanlie’s work draws from her global research on hate studies, cultural intelligence, and trust, offering evidence-based tools for dialogue in polarized and emotionally charged contexts.

By Dr. Anastasia Aldelina Lijadi, Ph.D.  

International Institute for Applied Systems Analysis (IIASA)

Migration is part of everyday life in our globalized world. People cross borders for safety, work, education, family, love, or the hope of a better future. Yet despite how common migration has become, we continue to grapple with fundamental questions: Who is moving? Where are they going? And how do they adapt—not only when they arrive, but also when they return? These questions lie at the heart of the work of Families in Global Transition (FIGT), where mobility is understood not just as movement across borders, but as a deeply relational and transformative human experience.

Tracking Migration in Real Time

One of the persistent challenges in migration research has been the lack of timely, comparable data. Traditional migration statistics are often slow to emerge and can fail to capture sudden changes driven by conflict, policy shifts, or global crises. A recent IIASA-led study, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS), addresses this gap by using privacy-protected data from over three billion Facebook users to track international migration flows monthly. This approach offers one of the most detailed global snapshots of migration to date, capturing movements across 181 countries (see linked Figure 1).

Why does this matter? Because migration data shapes real lives. Governments rely on these insights to plan housing, education, labor markets, and health services. Humanitarian and development organizations depend on them to anticipate and respond to displacement, conflict, and climate-related risks. Behind every data point lies a family navigating transition.

Figure 1. Estimate international migration flows is 2022. Adapted from Chi, Abel, Johnstons, Giraudy & Bailey (2025), Measuring global migration flows using online data. Proceeding National Academy of Science USA, 122 (18) e2409418122, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2409418122  

The study estimates that 39.1 million people migrated internationally in 2022—24% higher than pre-COVID-19 levels. While this represents only 0.63% of the population in the countries studied, each number reflects a significant life transition: new jobs, new schools, family separation or reunification, and often profound emotional and psychological change. The United States recorded the largest net inflow of migrants, while Ukraine experienced the greatest outflow following Russia’s invasion. Migration remains most intense between neighboring countries and within regions such as Europe and Latin America, although long-distance corridors—particularly labor migration from South Asia to the Gulf—continue to play a critical role. After a sharp pandemic-related decline, migration rebounded strongly in 2022, reminding us how sensitive human mobility is to global crises and political decisions.

Stateless Citizenship

If migration asks where people move and how they adapt, statelessness compels a deeper, systemic question: what happens when movement is not a choice and legal belonging is never secured? From a United Nations perspective, statelessness is both a protection and development concern. The United Nations Office for Disaster Risk Reduction (UNDRR) reports that an estimated 4.4 million people worldwide are officially stateless, with millions more living in situations of undetermined or precarious nationality. Statelessness severely restricts access to education, healthcare, decent work, legal protection, and full participation in society. Without legal identity documentation, stateless individuals are frequently excluded from national disaster preparedness and response systems, risk-reduction strategies, and social protection mechanisms—placing families at heightened risk during crises.

Within this context, I strongly resonate with Vivian Chiona, founder of Expat Nest, and her call—raised at the Families in Global Transition (FIGT) Forum 2026—to advance the concept of “stateless citizenship” and center the lived experiences of children and families from stateless communities, including Assyrians. With roots extending to ancient Mesopotamia, Assyrians have endured centuries of displacement, marginalization, and exclusion from secure nationality, while sustaining rich linguistic, cultural, and communal traditions. Their experiences mirror those of other stateless or effectively stateless populations, such as the Rohingya, the Bedoon, and marginalized communities in parts of the Balkans and Côte d’Ivoire.

Drawing on my research on place identity among highly mobile children (Lijadi & Van Schalkwyk, 2017), I argue that for children growing up without stable nationality, identity formation is not diminished but actively negotiated. It is shaped through family systems, multi-local belonging, and forward-looking agency—often generating resilience rather than fragmentation. Aligned with UNDRR and FIGT commitments to inclusion, protection, and child-centered approaches, these insights underscore the urgent need to integrate stateless children and families into global migration, development, and identity frameworks—transforming invisibility into recognition, and research into meaningful, rights-based support.

Beyond Migration: The Experience of Sojourners

Not all mobility is driven by necessity or long-term settlement. Sojourners are individuals and families who move abroad by choice for a limited period, often from relatively privileged backgrounds, with the expectation of eventual return. Students, diplomats, international professionals, and globally mobile families commonly fall into this category. Yet even when mobility is planned and voluntary, adaptation—and re-adaptation—can be profoundly complex.

These emotional realities are explored in Karítas Hrundar Pálsdóttir’s book Readaptation Narratives in “Sojourner Literature”: The Dis- and Re-Orientation of Returning Home, presented at the FIGT Forum 2026. Pálsdóttir introduces sojourner literature as a distinct genre within transnational writing and focuses on readaptation narratives that examine what happens after return. Drawing on novels from across cultures, she shows that coming home is rarely straightforward. Sojourners often experience grief, ambiguous loss, identity shifts, and a persistent sense of in-betweenness. Home has changed—or they have. By bridging literary analysis and psychology, her work challenges existing readaptation frameworks and highlights the need for more nuanced language to capture the emotional complexity of return.

Why This Matters for Families in Global Transition

For Families in Global Transition, mobility is never only about crossing borders. It is about how families sustain relationships, construct identity, and cultivate belonging across time, place, and circumstance. Large-scale migration data helps us understand global patterns, while lived experiences—especially stories of displacement, statelessness, and return—help us understand people. Together, these perspectives remind us that mobility is not simply a policy issue or a statistic; it is a deeply human process that continues long after the journey itself, shaping families, identities, and futures across generations.

References:

G. Chi, G.J. Abel, D. Johnston, E. Giraudy, & M. Bailey, Measuring global migration flows using online data, Proc. Natl. Acad. Sci. U.S.A. 122 (18) e2409418122, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2409418122 (2025).

V. Chiona. What It’s Like to Be a Cross-Cultural Kid from a Stateless Nation The Assyrian? Forum presentation at Family in Global Transition (FIGT) Forum 18-19 April 2026. 

A.A. Lijadi &  .G J. Van Schalkwyk, Place identity construction of Third Culture Kids: Eliciting voices of children with high mobility lifestyle, Geoforum, Volume 81, (2017)

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.geoforum.2017.02.015https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0016718516300719

K.H. Pálsdóttir, Readaptation Narratives in 'Sojourner Literature: 'The Dis- and Re-Orientation of Returning Home, Palgrave Macmillan Cham, ISBN978-3-032-01339-2, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-032-01340-8 (2025)

By Dr. Anastasia Aldelina Lijadi – Vice President FIGT

When the Families in Global Transition Forum 2026 officially ended, it didn’t really end. The awe of it lingered—for days. Long after the laptops were closed and calendars suddenly had space again, many of us found ourselves replaying moments, conversations, and faces in our minds. There was excitement from new connections made across continents, surprise at how deeply some sessions resonated, gratitude for being understood without overexplaining—and, yes, a bone deep exhaustion that comes only after something meaningful has been fully lived.

The post-conference blues set in quietly, accompanied by a strange mix of emotions:  exhilaration and overwhelm; pride and disbelief; inspiration; and the sudden absence of constant momentum. For two full days, the Families in Global Transition Forum 2026 pulsed with energy—voices overlapping across time zones, ideas sparking in chat windows, and a collective curiosity that felt almost tangible. And then, just like that, it was silent. Yet the silence was not empty. It was full—full of ideas still settling, relationships just beginning, perspectives newly shifted. Many of us felt that peculiar, almost emotional whiplash that follows an intense shared experience: thrilled by what had unfolded, surprised by its depth, slightly dazed by the pace, and undeniably grateful to have been part of something so alive.

Together, we connected with over 70 people across more than 20 countries and countless lived experiences, challenged our assumptions, stretched our thinking, and co-created the premier online conference for globally mobile individuals and professionals. Being surrounded—virtually—by so many likeminded people reminded us of something essential: when spaces are intentionally designed for inclusion, curiosity, and care, the impact doesn’t end when the session does. It carries forward, quietly and persistently, shaping the days that follow.

What’s easy to forget, in those quiet moments after the Forum, is just how much thoughtful, intentional work led us there.

The Work Before the Applause

The journey began nine months earlier with the call for proposals. Developing it meant asking big questions: Whose voices need to be heard? What conversations feel urgent right now? What perspectives have historically been missing? To honor those questions, we assembled a deliberately diverse group of proposal readers—representing different regions, professional backgrounds, lived experiences, disciplines, and identities. This wasn’t incidental; it was foundational. Inclusion doesn’t happen by accident—it happens by design.

What followed was both humbling and exhilarating. The quality of proposals was extraordinarily high. Choosing meant not ranking “good” versus “bad,” but carefully curating balance: research and practice, personal narrative and theory, familiar voices, and new perspectives. We also invited feedback from readers and committee members, challenging ourselves to look again, ask deeper questions, and ensure alignment with the Forum’s values of equity, accessibility, and impact.

Once sessions were selected, the real choreography began. Developing presenter and moderator guidelines—clear but human—was essential. Dedicated Q&A alignment sessions helped set shared expectations around tone, audience engagement, and the art of time discipline (a global skill still in development). These conversations built trust, confidence, and consistency—ensuring that behind every session was a common understanding, even as each voice remained distinct.

From Vision to Living Agenda

Constructing the agenda felt like storytelling with a stopwatch. Each session had to belong where it landed, flow thematically, and honor participant energy across time zones. Communication outreach followed—emails, posts, reminders, and gentle nudges—inviting a global audience into the experience, while hoping algorithms would be kind.

Speakers and moderators then finetuned their sessions—sometimes trimming a beloved slide, sometimes redesigning entirely—to ensure active participation rather than passive listening. Workshops were intentionally crafted to invite reflection, dialogue, creative expression, and lived experience from attendees. These were not sessions at people, but sessions with them.

Behind the scenes, a minute-by-minute technical rundown emerged—complete with backups for backups. Hosting a live online forum for ten hours across two days meant juggling platforms, transitions, breakout rooms, captions, chat moderation, timing cues, emergencies (minor and imaginary), and the steady reassurance: we’ve got this.

Two Days, Fully Alive

Day One launched with clarity and energy, guided by an engaging emcee who anchored the day with warmth and momentum. Thought-provoking keynotes and interactive workshops invited participants to actively explore communication across difference—through compassion, creativity, research, and emerging technologies—supported by surprising moments of art, awe, reflection, and mindful pause.

Day Two deepened the conversation, weaving together personal stories, complex identities, and global experiences of belonging, family, and faith. Highly engaging workshops continued to invite movement, dialogue, introspection, and collective meaning making—proving that even online, participation can feel alive and shared.

Between sessions, background music accompanied coffee breaks—small but intentional moments that created rhythm, transition, and a sense of togetherness. Networking sessions, remarkably well-attended despite full days of programming, offered space to connect informally, share stories, and remind us that community doesn’t end when a session does.

The People Who Made It Possible

None of this happened alone. The Forum exists because of an extraordinary group of dedicated volunteers and committee members—people who gave time, expertise, emotional labor, and quiet problem-solving without expectation of recognition. Their collaboration, patience, humor, and care carried the Forum through its most complex moments and its most joyful ones.

So yes, the post-conference blues are real. But they are softened by gratitude. By pride in what was built together. By laughter at what almost went wrong—and didn’t. And by the deep knowing that for two days, across the world, people showed up with openness and intention to talk across divides.

And that feeling? That’s what makes us ready to do it all again.

Anastasia Lijadi is an Indonesian Psychologist renowned for her work on Third Culture Kids (TCK). She pursued her doctorate at the University of Macau and received awards from the International Institute of Qualitative Methods and the International Congress of Psychology. She serves as the Associate Editor for The International Journal of School & Educational Psychology and contributes to the Journal of Psychological Research. Her research was recognized by Ruth van Reken and featured in the book "TCK: The Experience of Growing Up Among Worlds". Currently residing in Austria, she's raising two TCKs and working on developing new human well-being indicators. Anastasia is deeply involved with FIGT, where she serves as its current vice president and was its research and education director  from 2019 to 2022.

It is with great sadness that we share the passing of Judy Rickatson, a beloved member of the Families in Global Transition community and a person whose impact on FIGT will be felt for years to come.

For many years, Judy served as FIGT's Operations Lead in a volunteer capacity, giving generously of her time, energy, and expertise to support the organization behind the scenes. During important moments in FIGT's history, including times of transition and uncertainty, Judy was one of the people who helped steady the ship. Her commitment to the community, her reliability, and her unwavering belief in FIGT's mission helped ensure that this organization continued to grow and serve globally mobile individuals and families around the world.

Many of us will remember Judy's warm smile, welcoming presence, and genuine interest in others. She had a remarkable ability to make people feel seen, valued, and at home. For those of us who had the privilege of knowing her, Judy embodied the very spirit of community that FIGT strives to create.

Her legacy lives on not only in the countless hours she dedicated to FIGT, but also in the connections she fostered, the people she encouraged, and the community she helped sustain.

We extend our heartfelt condolences to Kaye, her family, and all those whose lives were touched by her kindness and generosity.

On behalf of FIGT and its Board members.

Yours sincerely, 

Flor García

Read Judy's obituary here. 

https://mountpleasantgroup.permavita.com/site/JudithAnneRickatson.html

On Wednesday, a blue button will appear towards the top of the Memorial Page at 10:15 a.m. (15 minutes before the start of the service), just below the horizontal blue banner.  Click on the button, it will open the live feed from the camera and sound system in the chapel. 

By Mariann Dienes

Last month I attended the very much anticipated FIGT Forum 2026 — two full days packed with fantastic presentations, thought-provoking workshops, and meaningful discussions. What made the experience especially memorable was not only the quality of the content, but the atmosphere created by everyone involved. The participants arrived curious, interested, and deeply engaged; the organisers worked tirelessly behind the scenes; and the volunteers dedicated enormous amounts of time, energy, and care to making the entire event happen so seamlessly. There was a real sense of generosity and shared purpose throughout the Forum.

Being surrounded by so many people committed to learning, connecting, and exchanging experiences reminded me once again how powerful community can be. So many conversations continued long after the sessions ended — in break out rooms, over coffee, between workshops — and often those spontaneous moments became just as valuable as the presentations themselves. There was openness, honesty, and a willingness to listen to one another’s stories and perspectives.

I was also a presenter, which naturally brought its own mixture of excitement and vulnerability. Sharing ideas that are personal and important to you always involves a certain degree of risk, and so the warm acceptance my presentation received meant more than I can fully express. I felt included, understood, and genuinely heard. That feeling — of recognition and connection — is something increasingly rare and precious.

Coincidentally, U2 had just released a new album, and one song in particular stayed with me throughout the weekend. In a Life ends with these lines:

“I feel alone 

I need it known

I never achieved anything on my Own

I feel alone

I need it known

I only received from being shown

I feel alone 

I need it known

I never achieved anything on my Own

A skipping stone 

I was thrown 

The ocean floor is not my home

In a life

We catch a glimpse of someone else

In your eyes 

Caught a glance of myself”

Those words resonated deeply with what I experienced at the Forum. They speak to the paradox of human connection: we may often feel alone in our journeys, yet so much of who we become is shaped through others — through encouragement, understanding, mentorship, and shared experience. None of us truly arrives anywhere entirely on our own.

The Forum reminded me that sometimes we only fully see ourselves when reflected in the eyes of others who understand us. For a brief moment, among presentations, conversations, laughter, and shared stories, there was that rare feeling of catching “a glance of myself.” And perhaps that is one of the greatest gifts gatherings like FIGT can offer.

Mariann Dienes is an intercultural consultant and applied linguist with a background in both business and Applied Linguistics. Having worked for multinational organizations for more than 10 years, she brings a wealth of experience to intercultural consulting. Her qualifications in Applied Linguistics, Neurolanguage Coaching and English Teaching provide an excellent skill set that facilitates intercultural understanding at its best. Her primary aim is to assist clients in achieving an increased awareness of cultural dimensions, and foster understanding and cooperation in organizations.

By Jemina Watstein

Talking Across Divides: Communicating Through Differences was the theme for FIGT's Forum 2026. Over two days, participants from more than 20 countries came together, creating a truly global space for dialogue, reflection, and connection, including Australia, New Zealand, Mexico, the Netherlands, Mozambique, Thailand, Canada, the UAE, the United States, Italy, and Austria.  

The Forum welcomed both long-time FIGT community members and first-time participants, bringing together a wide range of perspectives, experiences, and lived realities.

People beamed in from cities far and wide, and together we engaged in meaningful conversations, shared stories, listened deeply, and explored new ways of connecting across difference.

Moments like these remind us that community is not defined by geography, but by a shared commitment to learning, empathy, and collaboration.

This is the work FIGT supports every day.

On Day 2, FIGT co-founder, Ruth van Reken, reflected: “I am in awe today at how widespread an area all of the topics have covered and how much I have learned and how much wisdom and compassion and knowledge is in our community....and as we carry these things to our different communities, real differences are made in this world...yes, I have tears thinking about the ‘awesomeness’ of all being here together...and for each of you through the years who have served to make these moments possible this weekend. Thank you is not enough.”

Ruth’s words capture the depth of learning, the care within this community, and the impact that extends far beyond the Forum itself. We are grateful to all who have contributed to building and sustaining this space over time.

By Irene Gasser Rodrigues

Every time I take the same ingredients, follow a recipe precisely and bake it at the correct temperature, I get the same result: something sweet and fluffy that makes everyone smile around the table. Fairly predictable, right?

But four years ago, when our little family of five moved from Switzerland to Brazil, the country of origin of my husband, I discovered that intercultural baking has its own twists, and this hobby started mirroring the complex process of cultural adaptation I was going through.

All of a sudden it wasn’t good enough to follow a recipe precisely, in other words to do things the way I had always done them. Some ingredients wouldn’t be at hand. The gas oven would develop a life of its own. How on the earth should I discover the right temperature and get that golden crust only with under-heat? My sweat would drop in the batter. The mixer wouldn’t do his job properly in a 110V power outlet. The measurement in the local recipes would be in cups instead of grams. All sorts of little bugs would love to proliferate in the flour jar in my absence. I guess I could somehow describe what I was going through as the phenomenon of “KCS”, standing for “Kitchen Culture Shock”. Anyways, it perfectly illustrated my struggles in other areas: different understandings of punctuality, driving in crazy traffic with a hand always ready to honk a horn, help the kids with homework in another language, and so on.

At first I got a bit frustrated. Just a tiny, little bit. I guess it makes us humble when we are suddenly unable to do what has worked well during years. Then I burnt a series of bread loaves, cookies and muffins, and cakes would go undercooked in the middle. Only after repeated failed experiments did I finally make friends with my gas oven. In a slow process I started to understand at which level and at which temperature I had to bake depending on the type of food. On the outside, I learned just the right way to give a hug, I started understanding in which settings punctuality was expected and when guests would arrive an hour later, and that community comes before individual decisions. I started packing less appointments in one day and going with the flow, knowing that a simple medical appointment could cost me half a day, and that each day had its own surprises ready to test your flexibility.

Then, out of the blue, started the most creative, fascinating journey of experimentation with new ingredients. I would adapt my Swiss recipes with local ingredients and the results started to show while I entertained for coffee or tea at our place. People would bite in a walnut-sugar cane molasses-muffin and close their eyes, moaning something like “mmmmmmhhh” and tell me I should open a cafeteria in Aracaju! I would make jams and give them away whenever I was invited somewhere or I wanted to return a favour. Soon I started to experiment with a “secret ingredient” – little sachets of gelling agent from back home – to produce sugar-free jams. I was quite new to FIGT then, but the informal online meetings like SUAW, sharing my experiences on the What’s App group as well as an absurd amount of researching on the subject of transition helped me processing all of what I was going through. When I started reading Jo Parfitt’s “A career in your suitcase” and discovered that one of the first meaningful remunerated activities she created for herself overseas was producing and selling date chutney, I thought to myself: “If she did it, I can do it, too. It doesn’t mean I’ll have to do this to the end of my life”. There are so many inspiring people withing the community of FIGT who seem to be just waiting to tell you: “You can do it! I’ve been there, too!” On a local conference about “female entrepreneurship”, the Brazilian speaker told us that one of the benefits of building up your own business was overcoming low self-esteem. I definitely needed that, as I was still feeling the pain of some invisible losses from the life I left back there in Switzerland.

So I started my informal little business called “Geleias da Irene” (Irene’s Jams), producing and selling home-made jams. I had no capital to start with. Everything I earned was re-invested in the business. My brother-in-law made the logo for me and helped me to create an Instagram and Facebook Page. It was fun, and I liked everything about it: the contact with clients, publicity, doing the numbers, experimenting with new flavours, decoration the jars, selling at a fair in our neighbourhood together with a friend, doing seasonal specials like a set of mini-jams for Christmas, and so on. I shared a few adventures with my FIGT online friends who cheered me on at every step of the way, like the day when an Uber driver didn’t deliver my cupcakes for the birthday of a little girl, and brought them back at night apologizing profusely…

After a year or so the prices for jars went up a lot and I realized the profit margin just wasn’t worth all the work I put in it (specially on very hot days in the kitchen) and wouldn’t pay for our holidays, so I jumped to the next opportunity that appeared on my way: teaching English in small groups in a beautiful corporative house. But that’s the beginning of another story.

Cultural adaptation requires the disposition to fail forward, humility to try until you get it right, and a lot of creativity. You have to be flexible enough to find new ways to do things. You might use your abilities in totally unexpected ways, and finally find true, deep joy in living your life in a different, slower and maybe more disrupted, but good way. It’s an exciting journey with ups and downs, but the good news is we are not alone on it!

Irene Gasser Rodrigues is a multilingual Swiss Adult Third Culture Kid, born and raised in Togo. As an adult, she has lived in Senegal as well as Swiss German and French speaking parts of Switzerland. She moved to Aracaju in 2021 with her Brazilian husband, where they are raising three wonderful TCKs. She is a teacher and a passionate hobby baker, and between cooking and driving around as Uber Mama, she loves writing articles. She recently started volunteering as admin for the FIGT Parenting Community.

By Erika G. Bertling

Dear fellow sojourners,

I recently had the privilege of speaking on a panel for FIGT's "Let's Talk" series, discussing the anthology Letters Now Sent – a collection of over 90 letters written by the globally mobile to the people who shaped them. Hannele, our moderator, described reading the anthology as taking her on a "positive roller-coaster journey" – those emotional ups and downs that might feel unsettling in the moment, but allow us to feel into things we might have left unprocessed.

We so often think of emotional turbulence as something to avoid or push through quickly. But what if riding those rises and falls is what we need? What if the discomfort of feeling deeply is a path toward understanding ourselves more fully?

My letter was written to my late father, three years after his death from an uncommon blood cancer diagnosed just weeks into the pandemic. When you lose a parent, you face an unavoidable question: who am I now that they're gone? The memories remain, the love remains, but the daily unfolding of who you are to someone and who they are to you – that stops.

And yet, it doesn't have to stop completely. Through writing, I discovered gifts I didn't even know I'd received; ways I live and move in the world that were passed down through example rather than explanation. My father, a tall white American from upstate New York, gracefully accepted perpetual discomfort throughout our years in Japan so that others might know comfort. He accepted the vulnerability of being perpetually misunderstood so that the thousands he trained might develop the capacity to understand across difference. As a child, I couldn't see these things clearly. I needed distance, grief, and the discipline of letter-writing to make them visible.

This is where the private becomes even more powerful as public. During our discussion, the panel acknowledged the vulnerability of sharing something so deeply personal with strangers. Letter-writing as a solitary practice is certainly therapeutic. But letter-writing that's witnessed? That creates resonance, recognition, and the profound relief of knowing you're not alone in your complexity.

The panelists came from very different backgrounds – MKs who went to boarding school in the '50s and '60s, TCKs navigating mixed heritage, people writing to siblings, parents, mentors. Yet we all used the intimacy of letter-writing to excavate truths we couldn't access any other way. The act of addressing someone specific gives shape to feelings that might otherwise remain formless.

We also discussed using letter-writing in therapy, and how the whole project was inspired by Ruth Van Reken's Letters Never Sent, which has been a loving invitation for countless globally mobile people to process difficult feelings. Letters that are publicly witnessed can become mirrors for our own unexamined experiences, prompts for our own unwritten missives, and companions in the unique loneliness of a life lived between cultures. When you recognize your own thoughts in someone else's words, it's a form of being found – proof that you're not the only one carrying these questions, these losses, these complicated inheritances.

So here's my invitation: What letter have you not yet written? To whom would you address your unprocessed joy, grief, gratitude, or anger? It doesn't need to be sent. It doesn't need to be polished. It just needs to be honest.

And if you're willing to share that private work publicly – know that your vulnerability might be exactly the invitation someone else needs to begin their own positive roller-coaster journey toward self-understanding.

With warmth from wherever we call home,

Erika

P.S. If you’d like to watch the recording of the panel, you can find it HERE, and a .pdf of the panelist’s letters can be found HERE. The anthology, Letters Now Sent, is available HERE. A perfect gift for yourself or another TCK in your life!

 Erika G. Bertling is an intercultural educator, coach, and consultant who partners with people to help them navigate culture and embody their purpose.  She’s a mixed-race East Asian TCK who grew up in Okinawa, Japan and then went on to live and work in multiple international settings. 

Currently based in Los Angeles, she’s passionate about the ongoing work of equity and inclusion and enjoys being able to work virtually and in-person with clients no matter where they’re located.

By Flor Garcia

As November unfolds and many of us reflect on gratitude, I find myself deeply thankful for the extraordinary community that makes Families in Global Transition (FIGT) what it is — a home for globally mobile hearts and minds. Gratitude, after all, knows no borders. It is expressed in countless ways across cultures, yet its essence is universal: the recognition of connection, generosity, and shared purpose.

This year, I am especially mindful of the transitions within our own community. We begin a new chapter with a newly elected Board, bringing fresh perspectives, renewed energy, and diverse lived experiences. To our incoming leaders: Welcome! Your voices, insights, and commitment will help guide FIGT into its next phase of growth and impact. We are excited to learn from your perspectives and to see how your leadership will help us continue to bridge cultures and generations within our global family.

At the same time, my heartfelt appreciation goes to those who have served before us, past Board members and volunteers who have given their time, talents, and care to nurture this organization. Your contributions have strengthened the foundation upon which we continue to build. FIGT stands as a testament to your dedication and belief in our mission: to connect, support, and inspire families and individuals crossing cultures and borders.

To our volunteers, who give freely of their time to keep our programs vibrant and our connections strong: Thank you! Your commitment often happens behind the scenes, yet its impact is visible in every event, every post, and every moment of community care and interaction.

To our members, individual, business, and lifetime, your continued engagement sustains FIGT’s heart. You are the storytellers, connectors, and advocates who remind us daily why this community matters. You represent the diversity of global experiences that make FIGT a tapestry of belonging.

To our sponsors and donors, your generosity fuels our work. You make it possible for FIGT to host events, develop resources, and reach those who most need connection and understanding during transitions. Your belief in our mission allows us to keep creating spaces where learning and empathy flourish.

And to our affiliates around the world, who localize FIGT’s spirit in your own regions, thank you for expanding our reach and reminding us that global truly means everywhere. You show us that community is not limited by geography but defined by shared intention.

As President, I often describe FIGT as a bridge. A bridge that connects people across cultures, languages, and experiences. Gratitude is the beam that strengthens that bridge. When we pause to acknowledge each other’s contributions, we reinforce the bonds that hold us together. In moments of uncertainty or change, gratitude reminds us of what endures: our shared purpose, our values, and our belief in the power of human connection.

As we move forward with a new Board and renewed momentum, I invite our community to keep supporting FIGT through participation, storytelling, volunteering, and giving. Your continued engagement ensures that we remain a thriving, inclusive space for those navigating global lives. Let us all carry a deep sense of gratitude that transcends place; gratitude for connection, for shared stories, and for the courage to keep effectively communicating across lines of difference and understanding.

From my heart to yours, thank you for being part of the FIGT family. Together, let’s continue to build bridges that connect cultures, nurture belonging, and remind the world that home is not a single place: it’s the community we create together.

With appreciation,

Flor García

President, Families in Global Transition

Flor is an intercultural and DEI consultant. She loves helping people to understand and appreciate one another and to harness their diversity for greater creativity and productivity. Her areas of expertise also include budgeting and cost control, leadership and peer support, conflict resolution and project management.

Born in Venezuela, Flor spent much of her life living in several countries around the world; she now calls New York City home. Her children now grown, Flor is once again dedicating herself more fully to FIGT (she served as FIGT's Communications Director from 2020-2022 and describes that opportunity as an incredibly positive ‘game changer.”)