Second and third generation immigrants have an interesting relationship with that side of their culture. They predominantly identify as the nationality of the culture they were born into, and sometimes have no direct link to the country their parents or grandparents were born in. I'm very British, but am quite proud of the polish components of my name. My link to the country is tenuous though, beyond the yearly wigila. I was talking to a first generation immigrant recently, who described the piroshki that are traditionally eaten, and I realised my family had been doing it wrong all along. My grandmother is very much alive, yet our tradition had already been warped. That made me a little sad for how far away my heritage really was.

This article isn't about concrete actions or remediations for that feeling. I'm not going to marry a polish person to make sure my piroshki are perfect. It's about the way later generation immigrants naturally drift away from their heritage without noticing, and how that can be upsetting. I didn't notice it happening to me for a long time, and when I did, I didn't feel great.