It's funny how, traveling around the world, I found myself being such an apologetic American.
"I'm sorry for how rude other Americans you have met are."
"I'm sorry for all of the American policies you don't agree with."
"I'm sorry that I'm huge and clumsy and clueless and just getting in the way."
It's easy to get that way as you are trying to make a good impression. It's easy to wish, "If only I could be less American, then maybe I would fit in better." It took some time after coming back from Asia for me to really come to terms with the fact, that I am glad to have been born in America, for all that's worth, and that being American is a huge part of my identity, for all of the Asian-isms that I have absorbed. It is even a part of me that I am proud of and don't want to let go of.
For an example, I am proud to be an American feminist, from a long line of feminist women. The support structure I have had growing up as I tried to prove that powerful, intelligent women have just as much to contribute to society as men, through their own, unique feminine perspective, is unlike anywhere else. Every country has their own dynamics, and my feminist, tree-hugging upbringing has made me into the confident, supported individual I am today.
I have seen many people enter a country and try to become just like the people who were born and raised there; Americans trying to act like Chinese people while they lived in China, and so on. I don't want to look down on that, as I have tried to do that myself, but always fell short, because, let's face it, I'm not actually Asian.
Learning Japanese, a big part of picking up the language is learning the appropriate idiomatic phrases and levels of formality so that you do not offend the person you are speaking to. It's both a linguistic and cultural study. Your learn to be self-abasing, indirect, and hopeful rather than confident. Through my years of Japanese study, I have gotten very good at this, as those are just the phrases you use. I wouldn't even think of saying things with certainty. And, honestly, I am not sure how.
At work the other day, I had to show around a visiting professor from Ritsumeikan University, where I plan to pursue my dual-degree next fall. (Just look at all that certainty in my English!) I am currently in the middle of the application process, but I was told that in the past, the application is just a formality and everyone who applies gets in.
As I was showing Dr. Kimijima to his meeting, he remembered who I was and asked about my plans to go to Ritsumeikan. (We were speaking in English here because my formal Japanese has gotten rusty, so I figured it would be less offensive to speak in English rather than in less formal Japanese.) I confidentially replied that I was looking forward to go in the fall. He was very taken aback, asking if it was already decided that I was in, or if I knew I was the top candidate. It then hit me that although we were speaking English, he was still expecting conversation to be indirect, Japanese-style, and I was every bit the confident American that I had been raised to be, without the Japanese language to filter that out. Too late to salvage the conversation, I had to admit, that no, I wasn't accepted to yet, but that I was very hopeful I would be. Still, it made me sound rude. (The appropriate Japanese here translates to something like "It would be good if I could be accepted, but..." or even "I plan to go, but...")
Language can help filter some of your identity, but you could no more easily take the American out of me than you could take the Japanese out of Dr. Kimijima.
"I'm sorry for how rude other Americans you have met are."
"I'm sorry for all of the American policies you don't agree with."
"I'm sorry that I'm huge and clumsy and clueless and just getting in the way."
It's easy to get that way as you are trying to make a good impression. It's easy to wish, "If only I could be less American, then maybe I would fit in better." It took some time after coming back from Asia for me to really come to terms with the fact, that I am glad to have been born in America, for all that's worth, and that being American is a huge part of my identity, for all of the Asian-isms that I have absorbed. It is even a part of me that I am proud of and don't want to let go of.
For an example, I am proud to be an American feminist, from a long line of feminist women. The support structure I have had growing up as I tried to prove that powerful, intelligent women have just as much to contribute to society as men, through their own, unique feminine perspective, is unlike anywhere else. Every country has their own dynamics, and my feminist, tree-hugging upbringing has made me into the confident, supported individual I am today.
I have seen many people enter a country and try to become just like the people who were born and raised there; Americans trying to act like Chinese people while they lived in China, and so on. I don't want to look down on that, as I have tried to do that myself, but always fell short, because, let's face it, I'm not actually Asian.
Learning Japanese, a big part of picking up the language is learning the appropriate idiomatic phrases and levels of formality so that you do not offend the person you are speaking to. It's both a linguistic and cultural study. Your learn to be self-abasing, indirect, and hopeful rather than confident. Through my years of Japanese study, I have gotten very good at this, as those are just the phrases you use. I wouldn't even think of saying things with certainty. And, honestly, I am not sure how.
At work the other day, I had to show around a visiting professor from Ritsumeikan University, where I plan to pursue my dual-degree next fall. (Just look at all that certainty in my English!) I am currently in the middle of the application process, but I was told that in the past, the application is just a formality and everyone who applies gets in.
As I was showing Dr. Kimijima to his meeting, he remembered who I was and asked about my plans to go to Ritsumeikan. (We were speaking in English here because my formal Japanese has gotten rusty, so I figured it would be less offensive to speak in English rather than in less formal Japanese.) I confidentially replied that I was looking forward to go in the fall. He was very taken aback, asking if it was already decided that I was in, or if I knew I was the top candidate. It then hit me that although we were speaking English, he was still expecting conversation to be indirect, Japanese-style, and I was every bit the confident American that I had been raised to be, without the Japanese language to filter that out. Too late to salvage the conversation, I had to admit, that no, I wasn't accepted to yet, but that I was very hopeful I would be. Still, it made me sound rude. (The appropriate Japanese here translates to something like "It would be good if I could be accepted, but..." or even "I plan to go, but...")
Language can help filter some of your identity, but you could no more easily take the American out of me than you could take the Japanese out of Dr. Kimijima.
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