merloon

My time in college was marked by a variety of bad-to-horrific American political developments including:  Bush’s first term election, 9/11, the war in Iraq, and the whole ridiculous “freedom fries” debacle.  All of this felt especially resonant for me because I was both a political science major and an American at a university in Quebec.  Much of the time this was productive. It’s interesting to study politics from within a county that perceives itself to be next to a “sleeping elephant” (that’s us), particularly when that elephant rouses itself and starts engaging in poorly planned military action, which then results in nation building dalliances.  Everything Canadian scholars (and many others, including some in this country) predicted about the absence of WMD, and the dangers of attempting to cast democracy over a place as though it were as easy as throwing a fishnet, came true.

There were times when being an American was, if not an overt liability, somewhat of a hindrance.  Particularly in the days after 9/11, when my peers were eager to intellectualize how American foreign policy begot planes flown into buildings.  I was still feeling utterly heartbroken and traumatized, mentally replaying TV images of people on fire jumping out of windows, and ruminating on the overarching fear and sadness that seemed to have settled over my country.

Before any of these egregious events transpired, I went to Europe, ostensibly to work on my French in Paris.  This was lovely and quite educational, but ultimately rather counter-productive since the french in Quebec and the French in Paris are…if not two different languages, then at least only step-siblings.  All of my gorgeously honed Parisian pronunciation got me nothing but English from native Quebeckers who seemed to assume that the accent indicated only superficial knowledge of the language.  Of course, they were right.

This was the summer after Bush was elected and I figured, since I was attending a Canadian school, I could reasonably pass as Canadian myself.  However, very few occasions necessitated any discussion of my nationality (I have noticed that people tend to assume I am from wherever I happen to be, as long as I don’t speak) and those that did usually involved my passport.  Once the passport is out, the gig is up so I was a professed American whether I liked it or not.  On one occasion, I was on a train from London to Edinburgh and my seatmate, a guy from the English countryside engaged me in a long, but non-aggressive, discussion about how it was possible that we had elected Bush.  At the time the election itself seemed like a worst case scenario, neither of us had any idea how bad it would get - and how tarnished the American (and British) reputation would become.

I have since decided that being a proper ambassador of America (keep the voice down, refrain from wearing obnoxiously casual clothing, etc) is a far better option than pretending to be Canadian, but this article in the Washington Post * reminded me of how relieving it is to feel as though I can state my Americanism without immediately preparing thousands of apologies for our boorish international policies, or bracing for critique/anger/pity.  Oh, to be admired!

As the inauguration approaches, I know that Obama’s challenges are so vast, our country so damaged, that it will be impossible for him to meet all of the expectations that many of us have cast upon him.  However, I’m willing to trade some disappointment for finally, after eight years, feeling hopeful about America’s future - both domestically and internationally - instead of cowed by its present.

* NB:  The link is embedded, but it doesn’t show in this theme.  Here it is again:  http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/01/15/AR2009011504008.html