A Glimpse of Abroad

Subscribing to ‘the’ listserv for study abroad advisors in the U.S. is one of many ways that I keep my interest in international education active. Usually the messages aren’t applicable to my interests, but occasionally I’m spurred to write about my own experiences abroad. The following survey by Glimpse Abroad, a study abroad magazine, served as a launching point for some self reflection. As I don’t know if my responses will get published (likely not, as they want students of color to write), I thought I might as well share my writings with y’all. Let me know what you think.

What was the most widely held misperception about the United States that you encountered in your host country?

That Americans don't have passports. When I first arrived in Britain I began to be barraged with the statistic of how many Americans are passport-less. "Did you know that 50% of Americans don't have passports?" a Briton would ask. A few weeks later from a Frenchman: "Were you aware that 75% of you Yanks don't have a passport?" Over time the number increased. "80% of Americans don't have passports!" a European would cry. When asked, no one ever seemed to know where or when they heard the statistic, only that it corroborated what they wanted to believe: that Americans don't leave the safe confines of their own country.

I tried to explain that there are a myriad of reasons behind this perception: that Americans barely have any vacation time, which they'll often use to visit family in different states. That when we travel, we could go to Hawai'i or Canada or Mexico without needing a passport (this was just after 9/11). That we'll often take cruises in the Caribbean, hence the lack of presence abroad. And lastly, but importantly, we have an enormous country, and the cost of leaving is often prohibitive.

While the Europeans I met seemed to appreciate the rationale, they still held fast to their ever-growing percentage, bringing it up at opportune moments to silence any opposition. I never did find out what the correct statistic is.

How did your perceptions of the United States change while abroad?

Prior to studying abroad, I’d only left the country to visit Brazil and Newfoundland, two places where being an American was not only appreciated, but in the case of Brazil, made me a minor celebrity. My anglophilia (and the U.S. media’s love affair with Britain) led me to believe that the same would occur in the U.K. I expected everyone to think I was the cool American.

Not so.

It was a baptism by fire: one of the first stories one of my English flatmate told me was how, when traveling solo around Australia and wishing to start a conversation at a pub, she would loudly remark “F-ing Yanks!” Instantly she would be surrounded by people willing to talk about their mutual dislike of “septics” (Aussie slang for American tourists). Even finding out that pejorative term made me upset. We like Australians, too, just like the British; why don’t they like us?

“But you’re our cousins!” I cried during one of the endless arguments on why America is disliked. I’ll always remember the reply: “No we’re not. You’re too big and they are too many of you. We don’t want to be your cousins.”

For the first time, I realised how much America was disliked abroad. How our foreign policy made other countries actively hate and fear us. How, even when watching our movies, listening to our music, and reporting on our celebrities, others resented the encroaching worldwide domination.

I realised that no one cared any longer about WWII; that no one thought the U.S.’s interference in Bosnia or Somalia—or Afghanistan—was called for. I realised that many people in Britain hate our accents and think we spell things “wrong.” I even had a paper ‘corrected’ by a professor for an American spelling.

The year in Wales was the year my American bubble was burst. I could no longer flatter myself that Americans were loved all over the world, especially in Europe whom out of every region in the world, we adore the most. That our ‘allies’ in Britain are the politicians and not the people. My disillusionment resulted in a fervent wish to be European. I shunned Americans and American culture, insofar as it is possible to do so in our globalised society. Sometimes I wouldn’t ask questions in lectures, for fear of people turning their heads when my accent marked me as a Yank, and I avoided talking on my mobile phone on trains for the same reason. I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where people might be thinking cruel thoughts about me or my country.

Yet the disillusionment was beneficial: for the first time, I was able to see the U.S. unblinkered, unfettered. Viewing events from the other side, especially post-9/11, put the world into perspective. In one conversation with a close English friend, I half-jokingly proclaimed “We’re the best country,” something I’ve often heard Americans say. “What do you mean, the ‘best’ country?” she asked. “No one is in competition with you.” I had never thought that way before: that the quality of life in other countries was just as good (if not better) than back home. Other places are just as democratic, or more so. Other countries have just as many freedoms, or even more.

Learning all this at the ripe age of 20 was nothing if not eye-opening, and four years later I am still dealing with the ramifications of learning people around the world—even and especially in places that we Americans admire—revile us. Yet I am glad I learned the lesson so young, and also the other most important lesson of all: that when it comes down to it, everything is on an individual level. As much as my English flatmates said they hated Americans and spent time telling me everything wrong with my country, they still became friends with a Yank.

On a personal level, what did you find was the most effective way to respond to anti-Americanism?

Just met a Dravidian from India? Ask if they speak Tamil. Speaking to a German? Make a joke about Schwaebisch if they’re from Stuttgart, or tell a Bavarian you have Prussian ancestry and watch their reaction.

I find the more tidbits of information on other countries I know, the more likely I am to shock—and yes, sometimes even awe—those who might harbor anti-American sentiment. By showing an interest in their country, I am able to single handedly disprove that most-loved of all stereotypes: all Americans are ignorant.

A sense of humor about my own country is just as important. “Why do Americans need to learn another language?” I’ll facetiously query. “We already speak the best language in the world!” Or I’ll sarcastically remark that “America is the best country ever!” when some news story sheds light on something taking place in the U.S. Most importantly, I try to explain where Americans come from. That being brought up to believe from childhood that we’re the best country in the world, with the most freedoms, most people end up believing it. That even though our government might wreak havoc abroad, at home most Americans are regular, kind people, just like anywhere.

I also try to respect that fact that most countries’ people are not as loud and buoyant as Americans. That speaking loudly on public transport might not be conducive to helping our reputation. And that learning ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’ in a foreign language goes an awfully long way to getting rid of the myth of the Ugly American. Someday, with enough cultural sensitivity of those who leave our borders, that myth might be eradicated completely.