A Russian, An American, An Enforced Identity: Antibes

After today’s class when we discussed The Culture of Lies by Dubravka Ugresic, I immediately thought about an experience I had when I was in high school when I lost control of my own identity and it was imposed on me by others.

When I was fifteen I spent part of my summer studying abroad in the south of France, in a beach-town called Antibes. Instead of doing the “boutique” American programs that my other friends did where they lived with other students in dorms and barely took any classes, I enrolled in an international program that required a homestay, hoping to gain more than they had. I was supposed to master the language and dive, head first, into the French culture.

In my apartment, I lived with three other students (from Ecuador, Sweden, and Germany), my host parents spoke no English and they babysat for two Moroccan boys all day every day. Upon arriving at the Nice International Airport and meeting this group that almost felt like a walking advertisement for United Colors of Bennetton, I knew I was in for an interesting experience. Pillowtalk and dinner conversations during my three week stay ranged from cultural comparisons and popular culture similarities (and cross-overs) to our impressions of France and our host family. There was little tension in the house of Paul and Marie-Therese and we all thought of each other as individuals seeing beyond our cultural and linguistic differences. Class was an entirely different experience.

For the first week, everything went well: we were unified in our desire to learn more French and more about the French culture despite our differences. My class was composed of kids from all over Europe and the world: Spain, China, Germany, USA, Argentina, etc…Our unity started to fall apart the day that Cédric asked us to identify stereotypes about different people’s cultures and say whether or not we thought they were true. Everything seemed pretty tame when Europeans were discussing other European cultures. The Spanish and German students talked about dialects and rap music. Then Yuriy, a Russian boy, decided to talk about American stereotypes. The mood changed drastically.

He explained, in his perfect French accent, that he thought all Americans were selfish and wasteful. He was thorough in his analysis providing statistics about the amount of gas we use, the types of food we consume, and the way that we watch TV and buy into popular culture. He was brutal in his attacks and my French retorts fell on deaf ears. All of the Europeans seemed to agree about Americans and the five of us in the class couldn’t defend ourselves. Instead of being another student in Cédric’s class just trying to improve my French, I became an American student in Antibes. Suddenly, I embodied McDonalds, baseball, the mid-west, and even George W. Bush for the 15 other students in my class. Despite the fact that none of these things were part of my life, they came to define my identity.

I was not American the way that they thought I was. I am from New York and I don’t identify with any of the traits that Yuriy accused me of having; however, there was little I could do to change the minds of my classmates after Yuriy planted the seed. Whenever I would mispronounce a word or answer a question incorrectly, I would catch the rest of the class giving me dirty looks revealing that they weren’t surprised I couldn’t speak French well since I was American or that they weren’t surprised I didn’t understand French culture because I was American.

This experience could have broken me down and made me feel like learning about other cultures was a lost cause since others would always think of me as an American instead of anything else. However, they made me more passionate about French and understanding French and other cultures. I had to find away to gain agency in defining my identity if I wanted it to be American, French, or completely individual. I would no longer let “American” define me or serve as a modifier to my name when I introduced myself to others.

This is similar to the way that Ugresic lost her identity when Yugoslavia broke up and she was forced “to be born again in the creation of the Croatian state” (Ugresic 210). And a second time when the European Union was formed and Croatia was excluded. Without having any control, say, or personal agency, she twice had others tell her was she was: Croatian and a non-European. An outsider.