An American in Paris or How I Bought A Murse

During my time in Paris last year, I experienced a sense of US and THEM. It is interesting to me how much the way that I dressed determined the way that I was perceived and how I was able to enact a high degree of personal agency in changing which line of the US/THEM I found myself standing in.

Upon my arrival, I stuck out like a sore thumb. As you can see from this picture, I was pretty American looking: with my backwards hat, fleece vest, baggy clothes, and overly enthusiastic facial expressions. I expected and initially embraced my American-ness; however, it started to impede me improving my French and making French friends. The longer I was there the more I wanted to practice my French and see if I was fluent. Most Parisians, seeing that I looked American, spoke to me in English. I finally broke down and asked my host family why they thought I looked so American. The answer: my clothes.

My clothes had been keeping me outside of the group of US and made me a THEM, just like the other “human kinds” Berreby explores in his chapter Understanding the Tribal Mind. Parisians would make initial judgments when they looked at me and they would label me as a THEM. Someone who couldn’t speak the language, who didn’t understand the culture: an outsider. I knew it was time for a wardrobe make-over. I had to become a THEM, no matter what.

It was a struggle to try on my first pair of skinny jeans (both literally and figuratively) but I noticed a change in the way that people approached me when I traded in my GAP blue jeans for my H & M black ones. There were less sideways glances and noses in the air when I got on the metro or when I walked into my classes. Next I traded my bulky backpack for a Longchamp briefcase (affectionately nicknamed the “murse”) and lastly I abandoned my Northface fleeces for a more mature black military-ish peacoat. By my last few days in Paris, I had completely transformed (my long hair also fit in with the bohemian teenagers I became friends with). I felt Parisian and I felt like a member of the group of “US”, fully embraced by other French people: no dirty looks or mocking American accents. It felt great to belong again.

Then I experienced a reverse culture shock upon my return to Duke in January. I came back to all of my American friends, some who stayed in Durham and others who were abroad as well, and I noticed that I looked like a THEM again. My transformation was ill-received: how could I wear my skinny jeans and v-neck t-shirts amongst a fraternity of pastel polos and khaki shorts? Instead of adjusting myself like I had in Paris, I explained to my friends that this is how I dressed, that my time in France was important and that I liked feeling European. The feeling of being a THEM faded and I was welcomed back into the US. “The feelings that you belong is something that comes and goes” (Berreby 214) and it might have meant that my “murse” didn’t belong, but just as I have been an US before I left for France, I still was when I returned. I took control of the US-THEM code, just as Berreby says that each individual has the power to do, and I was able to maintain an US feeling even though I might have looked like a THEM (and I still might). These groupings of US/THEM can be artificially created and the differences that the mind (and the eye) sees may not be as much as a reality as we think on first glance.

vamos a costa rica

Before my senior year of high school, I spent four weeks in Costa Rica. While there, I had the opportunity to live with a family, do some community service and play soccer.

Week One: Immersion Other than a few family vacations, this was my first real abroad experience. I was extremely nervous to live with a family. My Spanish was pretty good, but I didn’t know if I would be able to understand them. What if they spoke really fast, what if they didn’t like me? When I finally met them, my fears began to dwindle away. It was me, Roberta-Maria, Anielka and Daniel. They were so inviting and accepting. They welcomed me into their family and treated me as one of their own. During my week with them, we eat together, talked together and danced together. On the second to last night, they even invited me to come to a party with them. At the party, I got to meet all of the other kids in the neighborhood. We spent the evening eating and talking and salsa dancing. It was this night that really made my experience with the family so memorable. I was an outsider, an American; my skin was different, my accent was different, my clothes were different (I definitely stood out in my bright blue tshirt with “ABERCROMBIE % FITCH” written across it.) But to them, it didn’t matter. I was there, trying to learn about their family and their culture. They appreciated me for it, and vice versa.

Week Two: The next week I spent in a small village called Cano Negro. Our project for the week was to help lay the flooring for a new community center and repaint the walls of the local elementary school. From this experience I got taste of aid and development. Throughout the week of our stay, I got a chance to talk with some of the locals, play soccer and see what life was like in a rural Costa Rican village. My time was so short lived that I couldn’t help but think to myself if my work was really even meaningful. I was only 16, so I don’t think I fully grasped the reality of what I was doing there, but as I look back now, I wonder if I really did do any help. Thinking about it now, I am not so sure I did. I was only there for a week; was my work really helpful? Would it really have a sustainable impact on the rest of the village? Or was my time there really just a selfish cultural exploration to see how the others live? .

Weeks three and four: I spent the remainder of my time on somewhat of a road trip, traveling to different towns to play soccer. One of the most memorable stops was at the Arenal Volcano. Here we got to play some indoor soccer against a local girls’ team. During the game I took note of some of the ways that these women played the game differently. They had some different rules and different names for things. But it was cool that even though there were differences, we all understood the universal object of the game and that we could all come together to enjoy the game of soccer.

I think I chose to write about my summer in Costa Rica because it marked an important time in my life. It opened my eyes to the world around me. It got me interested in excited about other cultures and I think this is what ultimately attracted me to ICS. After this experience, I new that I would not be satisfied with a major that would not allow me to explore people and places outside of my world. I don’t know if my life goal is to save Africa or cure world hunger, but I do know that I want to do something in the international context. Crossing borders and boundaries, experiencing new people and cultures is something that I love and want to continue to do.

Behold The Power...of the Heritage Galler-CHEEEEEESE!

So today, Haley and I presented our Heritage Galleries to the class. I think that we really benefitted from going during the second gallery and not in the first because we had a better idea of how much time and thought to put into the project. It was pretty awkward to talk about my family through the lens of a cheese that I couldn’t even find in North Carolina. Letting the other people in the class into our personal lives is weird but also a valuable exercise considering we are all so different. As students with 18 unique experiences we have a lot to learn from others and tons to teach each other. I think that the process of picking my gallery topic even taught me a lot about the way that I perceive myself and my family: and what makes my particular heritage unique in comparison to the rest of the class. I never knew that Grana Padano could say so much about where my family is from, what family does, and how we interact with each other (I got a pound of it for my 16^th birthday. Yeah. That happened.).

I’m a little nervous about how we are going to be graded on the project because they are all so diverse. How can you compare a song to a picture to a cheese to a book? It really will be a tough job for Marcy. The more I think about this project, the more I realize how cool it is and how ICS it is. We are taking this small project that seems more show-and-tell than college class, and turning it into a truly meaningful experience. There are so many different implications about perspective, difference, and communication that expose themselves as more and more people present.

This exercise is also such a bold contrast to the rest of the classes I have taken at Duke. In all of my classes (from 5 people to 50) we don’t know anything about the rest of the class. We go through semesters and years sitting next to other students and the only defining qualities they have are their test grades or their answers to the questions that teachers act. They are legitimate strangers. In this class, personal narratives have become a learning tool: like a novel we would read or theories we would study. Beyond being fun and interesting, I think that this activity is perfect in a class like ICS 200S where we talk about international conflict and issues. We now have a better understanding of each other’s interests, thoughts, and perspectives: how their heritage influences their thinking (just like on the first day when we shared our international experiences). This is another piece of putting together the puzzle of our international thinking and why we are ICS seniors.

It was important to dive head-first into the project and not be worried about being too personal, but still I am glad it is over. I wonder if Marcy will present anything...

Showing off my heritage in the gallery.

I’m trying to decide what to talk about for my Heritage Gallery assignment. I am supposed to bring in something that expresses my heritage to tell the class a little bit about what has shaped me. I’m not really sure what to bring in. Julie presented last class and told us about how her family always makes guacamole together. My family doesn’t really do anything like that. Hmmm.

So I called up my dad and asked him for suggestions. He’s always good at things like this. He suggested I talk about my grandfather. After much deliberation, I took his suggestion. He sent me the picture of my grandfather that sits on his desk at home. This picture never really had a great significance to me because I never really got to talk to my grandfather about his experience in the war, but it is something that he and my dad used to talk about a lot. I vividly remember going to visit my grandmother’s house with my dad once a year. She would sit us down on her black plether couch with towels covering them to protect from dirt. She would take out the photo albums. The same ones, every year. “This is your father when he was a little baby…. Look here, this is when your father was leaving for college….” She had albums upon albums and albums of pictures. The ones of my grandfather during his time as a soldier were in a separate shoe box. Each photograph, postcard and letter was dated and labeled. My grandmother is big on pictures. She loves telling stories of the past. And so this is why I decided to bring in the picture. It is something that reminds me of spending time with my family.

I am nervous to present my Heritage Gallery assignment because I know its going to be a lot different than everyone else’s. But I suppose that the point of this exercise, learning about each other and our similarities and differences. Not only will this give us a better understanding of each other and where we come from but it will give each of us a great appreciate for our differences. I’m interested to see what everyone else brings in...