“They’re very American.” Recently someone used this phrase to describe me as a warning to an African student I had gone on a few dates with. It was a way to distinguish why the relationship would not work out, because I am American and they are not. Upon hearing this I was upset. Now I am wondering what is so hurtful about being called American. Why is this the phrase that was chosen to differentiate me from a non-American? Is it meant to insult me and all Americans? It brings to the forefront the stereotype of loud, ignorant, self-centered, entitled, and overall obnoxious American.
First, why is this a phrase to differentiate an American from a non-American? Are differences in Americans and non-Americans so great that they cannot find common ground? This discounts the possibility that both parties can listen and learn from the other. My American nationality does not erase my ability to understand another’s perspective but it does complicate it. I must consciously and constantly unlearn the falsehood that America is greater, that my job is to bring freedom to others, that the American dream is the only valid dream.
I believe a key to overriding one’s national lens, specifically the American lens, is to travel and to read books. Observing how people live in other countries allows one to see the way other societies function. It gives one the ability to view the weaknesses but more importantly the strengths. When returning from a trip, the lens I have in my country is then altered. The lens remains American but with a tinge of the knowledge of something else. When I studied in Honduras, we took the public bus 3 days per week. There were 20 Americans and some 40 Hondurans. The bus left at 8am so we were typically quiet but, frequently we were loud, speaking in heavily accented Michigan English. At first this didn’t strike me as particularly out of place, we were simply the only ones talking. After a few bus rides however, I noticed no other passengers talked quite as loud nor quite as often. The other passengers quietly awaited their stop and occasionally chatted softly with the person next to them. When I began to listen and not simply talk to my American friends, I noticed when elderly women would get on the bus and I was quicker to give up my seat. When I decreased my American volume, I felt ashamed that I did not notice it before. However, loud behavior is not exclusively American. When my host family would gather, they were quite loud. The difference was an awareness of when to be loud something I am still unlearning.
But travel is not possible for everyone so that leaves books. I have found that reading books written by non-white and/or non-American authors has also changed the lens I have. After listening to a TED talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, I felt challenged to read not only books that I enjoyed because they were relatable but to include books written by authors who were not white Americans. Books provide a way to peek into another viewpoint or culture. Through careful observation and reflection one can identify why the parts of books that feel unknown or uncomfortable feel that way. Often these books can unveil hidden prejudices to one’s own expectations for behavior, lifestyle, and approach to relationships. Recently I read Pride by Ibi Zoboi. The retelling of Pride and Prejudice is set in Brooklyn and centers around a young afro-latina who is struggling with the encroaching gentrification in her neighborhood. The protagonist, Zuri, is American but we do not share many experiences. While my high school experience was in a private school in the white suburbs of Chicago, Zuri attended a public school in her neighborhood. But even if we had grown up in the same neighborhood, we would have had starkly different experiences. While I cannot know her reality, by reading about her life I can see the beauty in her close-knit family and pride in her neighborhood. I can view from the opposite perspective how new “hip” restaurants in Eastown that I frequent and enjoy have chipped away at the essence of someone else’s home. I need to keep unlearning how something that is enjoyable for me can also be harmful.
Second, how is being too American an insult? My parents, grandparents, and great grandparents were all raised in the US. All my siblings are married to Americans. I am American because what else could I be? But I must constantly strive to unlearn the aspects I hate about being American such as an extreme egocentrism or having to look at a map when someone mentions a country in Asia or Africa or not being aware of politics in other countries. But then I begin to internally defend my character against the negative American stereotypes. I am not overly nationalistic or hateful of immigrants. Nor do I only eat fast food or love guns. But then I thought, how many Americans fall into all these categories? Could I lump all Americans into these groups? Of course not. Just like in no country are the stereotypes true of all people in that country. While they might hold truth, they do not define every individual in the country. But too often Americans do fall into the stereotypes assigned to them. America is not greater than everyone else. We do not have politics figured out. Our system of government is not without fault nor is it void of abuse and neglect. Our society is broken. The ideologies that are typical of Americans are the ones that all Americans must consistently unlearn.
Loud, ignorant, self-centered, entitled, and overall obnoxious. Are these words that describe me? Honestly, they do. I am often loud, I find myself thinking ignorant things, I think about myself and my needs more than others, and I too often forget that I don’t deserve 99% of what I have. These traps of American Exceptionalism often catch up to me.
Am I too American? Am I too American to date an African? Does my lack of geographical expertise make a relationship impossible? Will my global political ignorance be an impossible barrier? I don’t know.
I am very American. I am confident in who I am. I have a strong sense of self. These three statements are not inherently evil. But they can be when I allow my nationality to create a sense of superiority, my confidence to manifest as self-righteousness, and my sense of self as alienation of the other.
The Service-Learning Center’s covenant this year includes these three lines of repentance, “Forgive us when we listen to respond, rather than listen to understand…Forgive us when we choose comfort and ignorance over openness and growth…Forgive us when we fail to love, to fulfill our calling, when we exclude, when we forget.” As I continually fight to listen, learn, and love better, I ask for forgiveness when I fail. I ask for forgiveness when I live into the negative stereotypes of my nationality and I will continually seek to unlearn them.
-Juliana Stremler, Residence Hall Community Partnerships Coordinator
