the day Jim became Marcus

We’ve talked about identity quite a bit, but today something really weird happened. Jim told us that his real name is Marcus. WHATT?? Why would you have people call you Jim if your name is Marcus. Well, Jim (Marcus) explained that his middle name (Jim) came first on his American passport, and so that’s how his named appears on ACES. He said that it has just been easier to go by Jim.


This kind of changed my perception of how important a person’s name is to their identity. Whether he was called Jim or Marcus wasn’t really all that big of a difference, but it got me thinking. What if my name wasn’t Haley? What if Charlie’s name wasn’t Charlie. Would our personalities be different? Would we act differently? Do we identify ourselves based on the name that we are given?


This also made me think about when I was abroad and my Italian professor couldn’t pronounce my name. The H gave him such trouble. It was slightly amusing to hear him struggle each day. Ahh-Lee. He would call me. It was silly. But it was interesting in a way. The hard H of my name was something that so clearly marked me as American and made me wonder about Jim. Did going by Jim make him feel more American or did it make him feel like he was an outsider?


Also, while I’m on the topic of identity and abroad, since Chaz went on a whole long schpeel about his murce (man purse) and how it made him feel so in the French circle, I should probably tell you about my attempt to fit in while I was in Florence. I thought that the only way I was ever going to look, act and feel like a local was if I wore a leather jacket and a scarf. So, I set off on the journey to find la giacca di pelle perfetta. I searched long and hard, until I stumbled upon Massimo. I tried on probably every jacket in the store. It had to be perfect. It had to make me look Italian. Two hours later, I immerged from the store clad in leather, kissing Massimo on the left then the right cheek, “Ciao Ciao!” I said to him. And as I strolled through the leather market back to my apartment, I finally felt like I was one of them. I waved to the venders as I normally did, but this time they responded to me in Italian. I guess there are a lot of things that contribute to a person’s identity. For the Fiorentinas, the leather jacket meant I was one of them.


I guess for Marcus, going by Jim makes him one of us (Americans).

sorry i'm not sorry

After watching this movie, I was most surprised by my reaction to the USA segment. As an American, I thought I would feel the most in tune with this part, but I actually felt the most connection with Indian segment. It clearly emphasized the us and them division that resulted from the attacks when all of the neighbors began to avoid the Pakistani family, suspecting them as terrorists. Seeing this section of the movie made me think about my emotions and my feelings after September 11, and I realized that I was guilty of the same stereotyping. I remember specifically flying with my mom a few months after. As we were waiting to board the flight my mom looked at me with eyes of fear. I knew what she was referring to, but I felt uncomfortable acknowledging that I felt the same way.

I think this speaks a lot to some of the things we talk about in ICS. Our identities force us to see things from different perspectives. Our identities help us to create divisions in our minds. In that moment, I felt like an American. Was I wrong for feeling this way? Were the neighbors wrong for avoiding their Pakistani friend? Although stereotyping may be unfair, it is natural. I am not sorry for my reaction, and I don’t think the neighbors should be either.