On Becoming More or Less American

In my six weeks abroad I have become a little less, and a little more, American. My use of American slang has diminished, and instead I say things like “muesli” instead of granola and “torch” instead of flashlight. I ask others if they went to “uni,” but still refer to my last four years of education as college. I’ve even absorbed a bit of slang (see “Knackered” and “can’t be fucked” for two of my favorites). My voice is a bit quieter; my jokes have become a bit less frequent (this due to both translation issues and often a simple lack of people who know my humor). The eccentricities that come with my nationality are toned down, even though my national identity is often asked before my name is – which is sometimes not asked for at all. If a conversation goes deeper, and I asked about US politics, I am the first to disown Donald Trump, US gun laws, the American carbon footprint, and express my frustration at racism and gender issues in our country. I am have become more outspoken about the issues in my own country, even as I adapt into a more global identity and attempt to challenge the stereotype of an American abroad. 

 

Washington, DC, USA

But, paradoxically, in so, so many ways, I have become more Montanan. I have a developed a certain personal, entirely apolitical, pride in my homeland, and in my specific identity as a resident of the American West. As a way to differentiate myself, to feel special, to cling to an identity that is not that of “American” (with all the positive and negative implications), I push my identity as a Montanan before nearly everything else, even my name. When asked about my home (and sometimes without being asked) I tell stories of cowboys and cattle drives and the Wild West. The story of my parents ranch, my first ever earned income (shooting rabbits that were made into jackalopes), and the population density of Montana are often the first, and sometimes only, things people know about me. I’m not above sharing unsolicited pictures of pig races and mountains and horses and my little brother in a cowboy hat. I am Dee, from Montana.

Montana is for camping!

I have learned that removing myself from familiar surroundings and familiar people has forced me to create my own identity. I an entirely in control of which facts I choose to share, of who I choose to present myself as in this world. My homeland and my travels, both past and current, are irreversibility intertwined, but which threads I choose from the tapestry of my experiences are mine and mine alone. While traveling, I have created my identity as Dee, a barely-American, but very Montanan, solo vagabonder. And this identity helps me love myself, my background, and the world a little bit more.