It is very interesting to be an American in Australia. As an educated, cultured American who doesn't spent all my time with a greasy wifebeater stretched over my potbelly in my doublewide cheering on "the game" (only 20%) it has been occasionally frustrating to feel as though I am personally responsible for all of the United States' faults and foibles. To listen to one of my floormates (who affectionately calls me Sarah Palin, thank you for that) tell it, I was Bush's right hand man in the days leading up to the Iraq War, gleefully tapping my fingers together evilly as we jointly planned Operation Iraqi Freedom. Or that must be how he sees it, because otherwise why would I be put on the spot for justifying our military involvement in the Middle East, despite being too young to vote in both 2000 and 2004 and never actualyl having my personal opinion consulted?
I find myself in an uncomfortable predicament: Do I renounce my homeland, denying it three times before the cock crows (whaddup obscure Biblical reference) in order to curry favor with the Australians, Candadians, Koreans, oh wait, every other nationality I have come into contact with, or do I stand my ground, taking a more defiant stance, crowing things like "We saved your asses in World War II" or simply flexing my biceps and chanting "USA! USA! USA!" In the end, I have chosen something of a middle ground. I won't reject my homeland. I am proud to be American. I appreciate all the opportunities growing up in the United States has given me, and I won't simply roll over and apologize for our faults until I'm blue in the face to appease my new friends. However, I will acknowledge the problems that exist in our country, and how they have unfortunately affected the rest of the world. I will explain that I believe we are taking steps to address these problems, that I proudly voted for Obama in 2008, that I support comprehensive health care legislation passed, and that I am among the majority of Americans who do believe we have strayed slightly off course in the past 10 years, but that I believe that we are slowly but surely getting back on course.
Another fun aspect of being an American in Australia is the circus freak aspect. For many of the Aussies I've met, I'm one of only a handful of Americans they've met, and the fact that I'm around all the time, available to answer questions is a constant source of amusement. For them. Being in a sorority has been a popular talking point amongst Aussies and they constantly ask if American universities are like how they are portrayed in the movies, especially greek life. "Like you really all just party all the time?" I pause, debating if I should enter into how Greek Life at GW is a little different from Greek Life as say, SMU, but eventually I decide to just roll with it. "Yeah, pretty much" I say nonchalantly. "And you get hazed and have to do all kinds of horrible things just to get in?" This is actually a question I have been asked several times. The first couple times I launched into a long explanation of how hazing really doesn't exist within my sorority and that while I understand that some organizations feel that it builds a better sister or brotherhood, I disagree. However, that's proved unsatisfactory to the Aussies and has led to numerous followup questions, so lately I launch into stories of what I have heard of other chapters at other schools doing, the more humiliating the better. Give the people what they want, right? Just tryna be popular over here. Another source of amusement is my American accent,especially when I use phrases that are popular here, like "How ya going?" or "I reckon." I don't have much of an ear for accents, but being here for almost three weeks has given me a couple phrases which I have developed a pretty good approximation of the Australian accents. These I will obligingly perform when requested, and the assembled Aussies will giggle or egg me on, as though reacting to a baby that has been taught a dirty word.
So I am adjusting to my new role as a stranger in a strange land. Occasionally, it is necessary to step in and explain that I do know who Victor Hugo is, and your mini biography of him isn't necessary. Or sometimes its simply a better use of cultural relations to exclaim "G'Day, mate!" in my best Aussie and listen to the giggles.
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