We were ar a dinner party the other night….It was:
*Joe and I plus kids
*A white-skinned couple with their 3 year old daughter who was adopted from Ethiopia as an infant-lived in Egypt her whole life
*Ella (1/2 Japanese ethnically and raised in Japan) and Michael (American) with 7 month old son born in Egypt
The hosts of this motley crue were our good friends here who were living in Chapel Hill NC before moving to Egypt a year and a half ago. They are white-skinned and have two adopted boys from Ethiopia. One boy was adopted as a toddler several years ago and one boy was adopted around age 4 about a year ago. The 4, now 5 year old has technically lived in the US only a few months of his life (one month before moving to Egypt) An interesting discussion came up while scooping unpronounceable but delicious Ethiopian food with that yummy spongy bread.….
The parents feel very strongly that the boys should hold on to their Ethiopian heritage and have put alot of care and thought into facilitating a positive cultural upbringing for their beautiful kids. For example, they have hired an Ethiopian nanny who speaks with them in the native language and cooks Ethiopian food (4 + nights per week). Anyway, their oldest son and Aedan came running into the room playing some 5 year old game…maybe Buzz Lightyear or The Incredibles and someone made a comment “all American kids, huh?”. This generated some complaints about families in the US who feel that raising kids elsewhere somehow limits their American-ness- clearly important virtue to this particular set of grandparents. Someone else said “well, you can be an American kid without ever living in America”. This brought up an interesting question for me….how much of identity is set by your passport? Beyond the legalities, what does it mean to be an American living in Egypt?
I will back up and say that unlike being an American in western Europe or Australia for example, being an American in Egypt (and the entire Middle East I would guess) isn’t just a novelty here…it really defines our entire lives…what we can or can’t do, what we can say, what people expect from us. Any hope of blending into the “melting pot” is ironically, an American concept. There is no blending here…In my observation, Egyptians don’t even blend among themselves. The benchmark is to first embrace and then minimize difference. We strive to be the “good Americans” or the exception to the noisy, boisterous, arrogant English-speaking but very lucrative rule. But as in other parts of the world, we are the country that everyone hates to love and loves to hate. Egyptians do truly love Americans and they don’t want us speaking Arabic. They’d rather practice their English. And oh boy….do they love their 1980s american tv and American import foods, etc. They want to hear all about Disney World, and New York City, and Beeeel Clinton. J
I have found that embracing my American identity helps affiliate me with a “club” (literally-the Maadi House)…a sea of people who also struggle to learn Arabic, negotiate taxicabs, get a fair price at the fruit market, etc. It is also terribly limiting to be American. I know this because we are often relieved when people think Joe is Spanish and we are treated completely differently-fewer expectations, more joking around. I find myself slipping in and out of French with the kids (who must think I am crazy) when in a taxicab with whom I have to negotiate…say flicking ashes to the backseat or driving too fast. Put simply, Egyptians treat Americans as the uber-class and they simultaneously hate us for it. Sometimes faking another nationality eases the situation just enough to make it bearable. While I have set a personal standard of not denying my American status, I certainly am comfortable about misrepresenting my nationality.
But back to my dinner party friends who try so hard to create Cairo-Americana. Does this survivalism somehow lessen our American-ness? What does this mean for us when we return to the US? What does it teach our kids? Looking at my blonde-haired boy who has been in Egypt a month, who holds an exclusive US passport, and who will return to the US in 2 years…of course he is an American. I wouldn’t even question it. The interesting thing is that all of the other dinner-party parents felt exactly the same way. Not only did they prize their passport, they truly believed their kids to be just “regular American kids”. Unlike us, none of them have imminent plans to return to the US and none of their kids were born in the US, nor have lived in the US for a long period of time. Yet, they are American and their houses are filled with Disney movies and oreos and all of the good stuff. Is American stuff enough to raise an American kid? Can we impart American values? Or is identity where you were born? The color of your skin? Where your family lives? What kind of food you like the best? Where do we get that spirit of Americana? Is being American in Egypt a definition of what we cannot do (converse with taxicab drivers, get a fair price at food stands, etc) and what does that mean for non white-skinned Americans? For Egyptian Americans living in Egypt?
Your thoughts?
2 comments:
Wow - what a question. If oreos and Disney makes a kid American what does that mean for all the other kids all over the world that watch Disney and eat oreos and Coke? Are we creating a global America? I have long believed that America's #1 export is its culture - but your question takes it to another level. To be American without having set foot in America implies that American is more than nationality... and less about where you live and more about consumerism and cultural mindset...
The thing that gets me is that I am an American and I struggle regularly (and will more once I have kids) not to live the full American lifestyle of entitlement and consumerism. Does that mean I am not American? How do you define American?
Isn’t that the point of being “American”—that it’s something personal and varied?
I actually ran into this dilemma last week. A girl from Holland was visiting co-workers, and we took her out on Friday night. She was only visiting North Carolina, had never been to the US before, and was so interested in what was American. She asked us about EVERYTHING—are straws American? Is pizza American? Is pulled pork American? At a certain point, we couldn't really tell what was "American" because we all had different ideas about it. To me, maple syrup is more American than cornbread and grits because I grew up in Massachusetts, and I think grits are gross.
We took her contra dancing, something that I would never say is American in my mind, since I personally have never contra danced. She was confused when I hesitated to say that contra dancing is American, or the men wearing skirts are doing something American. But I’m sure to those contra dancers, they were doing something that defines their understanding of America.
So I'm my own type American. I grew up on a diet of bologna, mustard, and hot dogs. I refuse to watch reality television. I love BBC news. I'm sure that's not everyone's type of American, but that's the point--you can have your own.
And then, there are so many people who consider themselves American and don't have that entitlement or can't afford that consumerism. What can we say about their understandings of what is American? I suppose they can still think entitlement and consumerism is American, but how do they identify themselves when those labels don't fit?
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