Not Living in America
Feb. 5th, 2007 01:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kodalaiI heard it said that in order to understand what it means to be an American, to know what American culture is, you have to live in another culture for a while. I think that’s starting to happen to me. I always assumed the reason for this discovery was just that being away from your home country, experiencing the differences of another culture, made you see things that had previously been invisible. For example, recently someone sarcastically asked, ‘American food? We have Chinese, Mexican, German, but what is American food?’
In frustration, I answered, ‘Anything I can’t get in Japan.’ Some obviously experienced wit replied, ‘Or anything that you can get in Japan, but only covered in mayo.’ Which is true! So true! Why do you put mayonnaise on pizza, Japan? Why?
But it’s not just the ways in which Japan is different. It’s the difference, the distance in me. Being away from my home country has let me separate myself from it in ways I never could before. I assumed that as an American surrounded by foreigners, I would grow defensive of my home culture, and start to cling to aspects of it I had formerly despised in order to justify myself to others. But that hasn’t happened. Instead, I’ve come to realize that no matter what other people think and see of America, it doesn’t matter, because that’s not me.
One of the things I most feared is that I would find myself coming to defend our president against foreign criticism! I am relieved to assure you that hasn’t happened. When American politics crosses the discussion, during classes, I don’t hesitate to tell my students what I think of him and his policies – and what many other critics, journalists, politicians and experts think. Why should I defend him? I don’t agree with him; most of America doesn’t. He is not me.
A more serious, but no less important example came on the day that my class and I discussed the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. I had sometimes worried about what I would do if the subject ever came up: I, a physical manifestation of the country that had wreaked so much devastation on the city? But I found that when the time came, I didn’t feel defensive. Nor did I feel ashamed. I told them what I knew about it, things they probably hadn’t known about the history of that period, and how it came to be from the American side: the Truman government, the military push, the fear of communism, the opposition of the scientists. And at no time did I feel uncomfortable, and neither, I think, did they. It was history; not dead, not forgotten, but neither mine to justify.
I am an American, but I am not synonymous with America. It is not all my identity. And being able to take that step away from my home, from myself, has given me a better understanding of who I am and where I come from.
Just for a very practical example: When I was living in America, I never read the news. I hated the news. Reading it made me depressed, furious, helplessly angry, even frightened. I knew it would just upset me, so why so do it?
Now, however, I find that I like to read the news. I like to know what’s going on in my country, in society, in politics, in science and even in entertainment. I still read things that disgust me, or annoy me, or sometimes make me very angry, but that level of immediacy is gone, and I think with it takes away a lot of the fear.
In frustration, I answered, ‘Anything I can’t get in Japan.’ Some obviously experienced wit replied, ‘Or anything that you can get in Japan, but only covered in mayo.’ Which is true! So true! Why do you put mayonnaise on pizza, Japan? Why?
But it’s not just the ways in which Japan is different. It’s the difference, the distance in me. Being away from my home country has let me separate myself from it in ways I never could before. I assumed that as an American surrounded by foreigners, I would grow defensive of my home culture, and start to cling to aspects of it I had formerly despised in order to justify myself to others. But that hasn’t happened. Instead, I’ve come to realize that no matter what other people think and see of America, it doesn’t matter, because that’s not me.
One of the things I most feared is that I would find myself coming to defend our president against foreign criticism! I am relieved to assure you that hasn’t happened. When American politics crosses the discussion, during classes, I don’t hesitate to tell my students what I think of him and his policies – and what many other critics, journalists, politicians and experts think. Why should I defend him? I don’t agree with him; most of America doesn’t. He is not me.
A more serious, but no less important example came on the day that my class and I discussed the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. I had sometimes worried about what I would do if the subject ever came up: I, a physical manifestation of the country that had wreaked so much devastation on the city? But I found that when the time came, I didn’t feel defensive. Nor did I feel ashamed. I told them what I knew about it, things they probably hadn’t known about the history of that period, and how it came to be from the American side: the Truman government, the military push, the fear of communism, the opposition of the scientists. And at no time did I feel uncomfortable, and neither, I think, did they. It was history; not dead, not forgotten, but neither mine to justify.
I am an American, but I am not synonymous with America. It is not all my identity. And being able to take that step away from my home, from myself, has given me a better understanding of who I am and where I come from.
Just for a very practical example: When I was living in America, I never read the news. I hated the news. Reading it made me depressed, furious, helplessly angry, even frightened. I knew it would just upset me, so why so do it?
Now, however, I find that I like to read the news. I like to know what’s going on in my country, in society, in politics, in science and even in entertainment. I still read things that disgust me, or annoy me, or sometimes make me very angry, but that level of immediacy is gone, and I think with it takes away a lot of the fear.
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no subject
Date: 2007-02-04 05:52 pm (UTC)But heavens, Mikke, why would you think that living abroad would ever make you defend W? I was always quick to say I didn't agree with him; you learn to defend the aspects of your country that are most important and relevant to you. ;)
I had a somewhat similar reaction when AKP went to Hiroshim and the Atomic Bomb Museum there. At least one of my friends said she felt guilty, and meanwhile, I was just fascinated. I really like the way you put it: It was history; not dead, not forgotten, but neither mine to justify.
I'm glad that you're adapting in this way, but also that it's not leaving you angry and confused like it did me. That makes it a lot easier. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2007-02-04 09:30 pm (UTC)I think this view is incredibly mature of you and very astute. It sounds like you're using this experience to the fullest and getting quite a lot of perspective out of it. Good job. A lot of people go abroad and treat it like an extended vacation instead of the unique opportunity it provides. Well done and keep it up. Always knew you were a smart one ;-)
love you.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 02:35 am (UTC)I couldn't treat JET like a vacation if I tried -- too much work! But it's somewhat relieving to feel these changes myself, and know it isn't all a waste of time.
Miss you!