On inheriting the survival-first mindset

When you’re mingling at a gathering and the question of “what do you do?” pops up—do you feel good about your answer? Do you answer with confidence?

I never enjoyed telling people that I do design. Whenever I introduced myself as a designer, I felt like I was settling. Then again, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy labeling myself or what I do as any singular thing. Happily, I’ve been able to avoid this discomfort for two years because in Berlin, talking about work isn’t a thing—passions and life matter more here. It’s not that I never cared about design, it’s just that I didn’t choose it for meaningful reasons.

In a conversation with a visiting friend, we talked about how difficult it is to move on from something when you’ve spent years doing it, and people keep telling you that you’re good at it. But being good at something doesn’t mean you should continue doing it, and it definitely doesn’t mean that it’s what you want to be doing.

Being good at something could just mean that you’ve found a talent or built some skill that others consider valuable and are willing to pay for (apologies for the lack of romanticism). Sometimes, it perfectly aligns with what you consider to be meaningful work. If this is your case, that is wonderful—please appreciate it. For many of us, this isn’t the case. Many of us learned to cling to the thing that we’re good at, or have become good at, because it’s how we’ve learned to contribute to society. We haven’t been taught how to separate “being valuable” from “meaningful work”.

“I wonder if it’s an immigrant thing”, I remember my friend saying.

This comment was the catalyst that turned my notes into this essay (thank you, B). It explains why conversations about privilege and value have always felt so not straightforward to me. Being a child of immigrants means navigating contradictions that are hard to explain to others. It means accepting that there are parts of you some people won’t ever understand, and that this is okay.

Occasionally, I’ll meet a fellow Hungarian, and sometimes they’re curious about which district I call home in Budapest. When I mention the 1st district, there’s often a moment of recalibration. A subtle shift happens as they place me geographically and perhaps socially. The 1st district and the “Buda” side of the city tend to be shorthand for privilege, you see. I know that the reactions aren’t malicious, and it doesn’t always happen, it’s just human nature to categorize. I just find it melancholic because it creates distance where there might have been room for connection.

These encounters tend to stir mixed feelings in me which has historically resulted in mixed reactions from my end. Sometimes, I’d get defensive. I’ll say things like “not everyone in the 1st district is rich”, or “we’re not rich”, or “there are plenty of rich people on the Pest side”. Other times, my voice would go quiet, and I find myself agreeing with a “yes, it’s where the rich people live”. All of these statements are true. All of them also point to my own difficulty to reconcile the contradiction of having had a privileged childhood, but also living with this inherited lack—an ambient shame of being an immigrant who once had nothing. If I could go back to these conversations now, I’d want my conversation partners to be curious. I’d want them to know that not all privilege is handed over on a spoon.

These days, I’m tired of being coerced into acknowledging my privilege, and I’m also tired of reminding others of theirs. Not needing a visa to live and work somewhere is a privilege. Having access to free education is a privilege. So is growing up in an environment where people look like you, having supportive parents, or having natural charm. I could go on and on. There are literally so many kinds of privileges, so why penalize each other for what one of us has and the other doesn’t? Why focus on our differences, on what we lack?

Not having to do what you don’t want is perhaps a privilege we all want but very few of us get. Many pieces of self-help content convince you that it’s kinda sad to do work you don’t want to be doing. I bought into this. I was also shown that you can ambitiously force your life to a place where you’re mostly doing what you want. Follow some of the people connected to the San Francisco tech scene, and you’ll see what I mean. I’m grateful for this, and I still feel inspired by this small subset of the tech bubble that I’ve brushed against but never merged with.

My story is different.

What I really want to say to anyone wrestling with similar contradictions or inherited patterns. Dear children—especially daughters—when you’re choosing meaning and purpose defined by you, know that you are doing a service for your family and ancestors. The meaning and purpose don’t have to be grand. It could be as simple as taking your creative hobby seriously, raising a family with different values, or just giving yourself permission to prioritize your wellbeing. Make crappy art, start that business that might not succeed, sing for no one but yourself. Listen to what your inner child yearns for, and give her the space to express. You’ll be healing an entire lineage, and this is one of the most privileged and valuable things you can do.