The Business of Being – ‘American’ Edition
I was born in the state of California within the United States of America. This makes my nationality US American, my ethnicity Californian, and my race Human. Not that this is acceptable by general American standards, but these are the facts. I consider myself an American because I live in the USA.
I don’t feel like a valued citizen, nor do I believe I am truly accepted as a valuable member of society. I am American because I was born here, but I mostly just feel like I’m tolerated because I can’t legally get kicked out. On a grand scale, I don’t matter. On a small-scale, I don’t matter. I am unacceptable because I refuse to be molded into any one group. When people try to stereotype or classify me, I immediately voice my dissent and ask cessation of further reference to me as [insert stereotypical term here].
I very much dislike being told who I am supposed to be. I downright hate it when people are surprised that I don’t fit their chosen stereotype. (“You’re so well-spoken.” or “Your education shows.” or “I was afraid of you the first time I saw you, I thought you were going to beat me up or something.” or “I never did trust those darkies, but you’re so nice and kind that I was wrong to judge you.” Yes, these are real comments from real people I have met.) It angers me that people can just arbitrarily decide who I “probably am” as a person based on how I look and without my consultation. It angers and saddens and frustrates me because there’s nothing I can do about it.
The most frustrating part is that I know there are other countries and cultures in the world where I would just be accepted as a person, where my genetic makeup would neither be an issue nor of any importance. It is as an American that I am distanced and segregated and overlooked and scrutinized and judged and berated and detested and ignored and overruled and treated with suspicion. I’m not really an honest-to-goodness red-blooded American, I was just born here.
The truth is, when one speaks of an “All American”, one is speaking of a theoretical person with a pale phenotype (and proof of ancestral paleness), who follows a specific religion and who has only participated in the approved “American” activities. I can never be “All American” because I can never be pale or religious or bland enough. I am by nature a tan skinned, nonreligious, eclectic person with an inherent interest in cultures of the world because my ancestors originated around the world. Thus, I am unacceptable.
I get tired of existing in this culture because it is so predictable and restrictive. People are not allowed to stray too far from stereotypes without being “put in their place” by critics and similarly hateful people. Usually, I just ignore it when people judge me, because I am always expecting to be judged. If I went out in the world without my shields up, I’d be hurt. Generally, I let these judgments go by without a second thought because they are just a fact of my life. These events happen too frequently for comfort, and so my shields are almost always up. Sometimes, though, it gets through my armor and affects me.
I recognize that unless you have been similarly profiled for some reason, you may not understand what I mean when I speak of judgment. I will, thus, give you an example of how I am affected by the casual judgment of others:
I am involved with a local farmer’s market as a vendor and as a musician. The first time I played music for the event, I was told by the market coordinator to go into the affiliated building and request some musical equipment for use outdoors. I went into the building, located the appropriate equipment, and then asked the manager for use of the equipment.
I politely asked, “Is there an amp here I may take outside to play music?” As soon as I asked, I knew I would not be allowed to use the equipment. The woman looked at me for a moment, then looked down at her hands and then looked back at me and said, “No.” I stood, staring at her, knowing full well that the equipment was available for use, until she said, “I’ll call my husband and see if he can get something together for you.” I stood there while she called her husband, and then left when she stated nobody would be available to assist with the equipment until later that evening.
On the surface, this may not seem to be an important conversation. It probably wouldn’t have bothered me at all in other circumstances. It wouldn’t have bothered me if I hadn’t already known that for the previous two farmer’s markets, a light-skinned male had played music using the exact same equipment in the exact same spot I was going to play. I had watched him go into the building and come out to set up the equipment. Nobody had to assist him to set up equipment, he was just allowed to take what he needed and set it up for his use. Me, though? Nope, I was too likely steal the equipment, despite the fact that it was broad daylight, people knew who I was, and there were several witnesses to my request for use of the equipment.
So, I sat up what equipment I did have and proceeded to play an acoustic guitar and sing in an open-air market on a windy day. I received no tips, multiple people asked me if I could be louder, and one lady who worked in the building and had known I needed equipment even asked, “You never got that amp?”
I felt like such a miserable failure afterward, and vowed never to show up at that place without a full set of my own equipment. I feel like it was foolish of me to even imagine that I’d be afforded the same respect or allowances as other people. I had considered bringing my own PA system but then decided not to, specifically because I knew that there was equipment available for use. I still feel much shame and embarrassment about that event. And, despite knowing that it was not my fault, I still blame myself for not bringing my own equipment.
And so, now you know why I don’t like to depend on other people. It’s because, to them, I can’t be trusted unless I prove otherwise. I don’t like to leave any aspect of my plans up to the whims and prejudices of other people because I know, without a doubt, that other people will do things to ruin my plans. It’s just a fact of my life. I have never been able to expect good things from other people because time and time again, other people prove that good things only go to those who aren’t me.
Politically, I don’t like politics. I tend to be fiscally conservative but socially liberal. Wasting money is stupid just as treating fellow humans poorly is stupid. Basically, I feel like America has everything backward at this point.The government has no problem wasting money and it takes years to get them to agree to treating all fellow humans with care. As such, the government is simply a reflection of the populace.
And so, I don’t feel like an American. My ideals are just too different. I value all life on the world, no matter how small. I don’t believe that any one type of human deserves more or better rights than any other human. I feel no qualms about using weapons for defense, yet I do not fear other humans whose beliefs do not match my own. I don’t sympathize much with Liberals because their tactics are, essentially, “spread hate until we make them uncomfortable”. I don’t sympathize much with Conservatives because their tactics are, essentially, “spread discomfort until we make them hate”. I don’t like politics because the political parties are just a joke – these two parties are actually one and the same.
I don’t feel like an American because I don’t actually fit in. I can make myself “American” enough to avoid too many issues and I can allow people to tolerate me, but I can’t make people accept me. I long to head for the hills, where I wouldn’t have to deal with any other humans at all. I long for a quiet piece of wooded acreage where I can live out my days with minimal human interaction. I long to be at peace with the world around me.
And so, being American is nothing that I feel pride in. I wish I could feel pride in my country and fellow citizens, but I mostly just feel sadness.
So it goes.