From Sea to Shining Sea

I have a lot going on right now. Mostly involving paint fumes and the steady rhythm of me washing my hands, scrubbing linoleum, and drinking Russian Morning Tea.

With Thanksgiving looming (i.e. tomorrow,) I've been doing a lot of thinking and talking about the good ol' U.S. of A. Talking to my students about the history of Thanksgiving, telling the older ones about the totally sick biological warfare used to carve out "the neighborhood," and really examining for myself what I think the U.S. is all about. To its very core. Its ideals. What works ideologically, what doesn't. And of course comparing all of that to "Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité."

The more time I spend away from home, the more I come to appreciate it. I've never been a patriot of any kind. I think our house was the only one on the block not to sport a flag after September 11th, and I still feel uncomfortable telling people I'm American when I'm abroad. It just seems dangerous. But putting the pieces together makes me feel different. Thinking about how unique "my country" is, makes me feel different.

I had a class this afternoon I've never met. I took seven students for the hour and though they're learning about segregation right now, we didn't really discuss the past. These girls (all girls) spoke incredible English - probably the best I've encountered at Magendie, which is saying a lot. They were curious, funny, and full of life, and genuinely engaged and engaging. I asked them if they thought the U.S. a racist country, and whether they considered France once. Like all other French people have told me, they said that the French look down upon racism, so it's all hidden. They said they felt that was a major difference between our nations. Americans are racist, and much less bashful about it. Probably true. But only because our population and landmass are bigger. They asked me how I felt about it.

Racism exists like whoa in the U.S. I would never dream of denying it. But I also think aside from that, we're also much more race-conscious in the U.S. And honestly, I'm not sure I think that's a bad thing. One of my friends here (American) was telling me that her Canadian roommate last year spoke of Canada as a "mosaic" instead of a "melting pot." Because in Canada, people are different, and yet retain their identity, rather than losing autonomy in something greater. So claims Canada. An intriguing idea.

I'm not a child of immigrants; I'm a granddaughter of immigrants. So I can't speak to the first generation experience, but I can say that from my observations in Southern California, and my very multi-cultural existence, I think our diversity is our strength. I think the fact that we have a BLACK president is awesome. And I think the fact that people constantly call him the BLACK president isn't something to grumble over. It's trite and it's boring, and so what if he's black, but how can we deny that this is major? That this marks a crucial change in our history and culture? Eventually he'll just be Barack. But it's going to be a hundred years from now. So let's be honest. Let's be open.

And let's celebrate that our country, on the eve of celebrating such a beautiful myth in our history, is a country that constantly dreams. We are a people of vivid imagination, a nation that encourages - in its very roots - daring, ambition, and creativity. Everything is possible in the United States. I really believe that now.

And after nearly a year and a half of hearing the French mantra, "c'est pas possible," I just want to scream "YES. IT IS POSSIBLE. AND IT IS HAPPENING." Accept it, France. Accept reality. Accept possibility. Accept DREAMING.



"In the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope."

Happy Thanksgiving, my beautiful family, and my beautiful friends. Whether you're in the U.S. or elsewhere, I am thankful for each and every one of you.

Love,
anya