What I Learned From… Growing Up as a Dual National

What It Taught Me About Identity and Marketing

I was born in Perth, Australia, to an English Mum and an Australian Dad. My Mum’s parents were both English; my Dad’s both Australian. In other words, half of me was tea and drizzle, the other half barbecues and blazing sun.

My parents met through a mutual love of sailing – the sort of relationship that almost defies geography. After all, it’s not exactly a short hop from Hampshire to Western Australia. I’m not into sailing myself, sorry Mum and Dad….

Our family ended up split right down the middle in terms of birthplace. My dad, me (the eldest) and my sister (the second eldest) were born in Australia. My mum, my younger sister, and my brother were born in England. A neat 50/50 divide – though growing up, it wasn’t always as simple as that.

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Being Different at School

When I was young, we moved from Australia to England. I started primary school a little late, which made me “the different one” in class.

That sense of difference leaves you with a choice: you either adapt quickly to fit in, or you lean into it and let it become a defining part of your identity.

For me, the adaptation came first. My accent shifted from Australian to English almost overnight. Kids are chameleons like that. But something else happened too: my Australian-ness actually solidified. Even though I sounded like everyone else, I carried this inner sense of being “the Australian kid in England.”

It became a running joke, as a dual national, you can’t win. You’re too Australian to be fully British, and too British to be fully Australian. When the cricket or rugby came around, I’d get grief no matter who lost. Maybe that’s why I’ve never had much interest in the Ashes.

Britishness vs Australianness

On the surface, Brits and Aussies aren’t worlds apart. But spend time in both cultures and you notice subtle differences.

• Stereotypes: Brits are often seen by Australians as posh, while Brits see Australians as laid-back. Both caricatures fall apart pretty quickly once you scratch beneath the surface.

• Regional quirks: The differences between southern and northern England are probably as wide as those between southern England and Western Australia.

• Geography and lifestyle: Perth is the most secluded city in the world, surrounded by desert and ocean. Mining and cattle ranching shape much of the culture in Western Australia, with fly-in fly-out miners spending weeks away at a time. In Britain, life feels more condensed, less rugged, more influenced by history and proximity to Europe.

• Beach culture: In Australia, everyone lives on the edges of the continent, so the beach is never far away. Of course you spend your time there. Swap the coastline of Perth for the Solent and it’s a very different weekend.

Still, when you boil it down, people are just people. Move the UK’s population to Australia, and the same behaviours would emerge – just with more sand in their shoes.

Family Identity

My Mum, despite being British, spent a lot of time in Australia and “gets it” when it comes to Aussie culture. My Dad, Australian through and through, has lived half his life in England but remains unmistakably Aussie.

So does nationality actually matter?

In my case, it gave me a cultural dual lens. I totally understand both British and Australian culture, but more specifically, I understand southern English and West Australian culture. Sometimes, those feel as different from each other as Southampton does from Liverpool.

It also means I have a strong sense of place.

I feel tied to Southampton and Hampshire, but equally to Perth and the wild expanses of Western Australia. When people tell me they’ve “been to Australia” and only mean Sydney or Melbourne, I can’t help but feel they’ve missed the whole point.

My Australia is Perth, the suburbs, and the outback beyond the Kimberley.

Pride Without Nationalism

Being a dual national taught me pride without the chest-beating nationalism.

I’m proud to be both British and Australian, but I don’t wear that pride in a territorial or exclusionary way.

It’s also made me sceptical of xenophobia and simplistic immigration debates. I don’t think anti-immigration policies benefit economies or societies, but I also understand that resources and space in a country’s borders is finite. Identity and belonging aren’t straightforward; they’re messy, complex, and always personal.

What This Taught Me About Marketing

All of this might feel far from marketing, but there’s a clear connection.

Identity is layered and nuanced. On paper, I’m “male, born in Australia, now living in the UK.” But that barely scratches the surface of who I am.

Marketers rely on segmentation; like demographics, geographics, psychographics to refine their audience and use budgets effectively. And yes, it’s discriminatory by design.

You exclude to focus. But it’s also dangerously reductive.

Being a dual national has taught me that what you see on paper rarely captures the full picture. Behind every demographic tag is a web of history, culture, and contradiction. As Philip Kotler himself has argued, segmentation is a useful tool but never the full story. Real marketing impact comes when you see people as more than data points.

Final Thoughts

Growing up as a dual national didn’t make me exotic or unusual on the outside; I look no different to my British or Australian peers. But on the inside, it shaped my perspective.

It taught me that identity is complex, that stereotypes crumble under scrutiny, and that national pride doesn’t need to slip into nationalism. Most importantly, it gave me a sensitivity to nuance – a skill that’s invaluable in marketing as much as in life.

TL;DR:

Being a dual national gave me a unique view of identity. It made me more culturally aware, sceptical of stereotypes, and proud without being nationalistic. For marketers, the lesson is simple: segmentation and demographics only ever tell part of the story — people’s identities are always more layered than the data suggests.