The Secret Life of a Nerd Girl: Indubitably American
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a blogumn by Gudrun Cram-Drach
Once at CalArts a fellow student asked me if I was European. It was during a 9 am class and I was sipping Irish Breakfast tea from the white porcelain mug I brought from home every day. I said “no, why?” And she said “well, you drink tea. And you have a very European sounding name. And I could have sworn I heard an accent.”
Okay, in my experience, “Europeans” on the whole drink more coffee than tea, and though it might contain the occasional mispronounced word as a result of a New England upbringing, my accent is as flatly American as the next girl’s. But about the name, she had a point.
I’ve spent my whole life explaining my name. My mother always said “you’re lucky we didn’t name you Rainbow, it was the 70s after all.” Rainbow would have been easier. People would have just accepted that I had a funny name without demanding to know my complete biography on first meeting. It’s really too much information for a cocktail party. I don’t know how many times I have said “my first name is Swedish but I’m American, I grew up in Maine, no my ancestry is not Swedish, yes my parents are American, yes my Grandparents are American, it comes from Women in Love, yes it’s also in a Wagner opera, there’s a Valkyrie…”
I complain about it a lot, but I also appreciate that it makes me unique and perhaps casts a more interesting light on me than I actually deserve. I’m curious too and if I were to meet me at a cocktail party I would no doubt ask the same questions (after complimenting me on my good looks and pretty dress of course).
For a while I blindly looked forward to living in Europe because I knew I would be relieved of the daily name-explanation task. I was right. Outside of my French class I hardly ever have to detail my heritage to strangers anymore. Now, living the simple life in France, I am simply “American.” While Americans might identify me by what states and cities I’ve lived in (in addition to the foreignness and hyphenation of my name), here in France, I’m just American. Blanket American. And what’s worse is, it’s the “American” they see on TV, and not, uh, “real” American. Whatever that means.
In French class the other day we practiced cause and effect. In response to the sentence, “because I want to learn about the culture, I will stay with inhabitants of the town,” the Vietnamese girl asked what exactly was an “inhabitant.” She asked if we, the foreigners* in this French class, were inhabitants of Paris? Prof Tony said yes, you are inhabitants of Paris, but you are also foreigners. The Iranian girl chimed in with a flat, “we will always be foreigners, that will never change.”
She has reason.
I know I will never be able to shake my American accent. I’ve had 2 French teachers who spoke American English so well that when I first met I didn’t know they were French. But after a while, I heard the subtle faults, a funny “r” or an “a” that was too strong. So, even if I lived here the rest of my life, if I “became French,” I would always give away the fact that I’m not. If I had kids here, the other moms would say “little Jean-Pierre Cram-Drach has an American mom, he speaks both French and American* at home.” It will always be a point of identification, separation, and interest. Just like my name. But we are what we are. No matter where we are we relate to our environments with whatever sense of belonging we can muster. My name has always been a part of me, as well as my personality, my hopes and my abilities. Now I have another distinguishing characteristic, an accent and choppy language skills. They will improve with time, but will always say something about me whether I want them to or not. I’ll always be foreign here, and I’ll always be me, what does it really matter? Je m’en fiche. I never really fit in before, why start now?
*According to the French, the language you are currently reading is American. Not English. They are considered two different languages here, and I’ve had several French people who don’t speak either one argue with me about how different they are. As I understand it, when French kids learn English in school, they learn British English all the way until their last year of high school (because it’s, you know, more correct), then they have one year of “American.” French students are so intellectually superior that they can learn a whole new language in just one year.
Do they think that French Canadians speak french or is that a different language as well?
Do they think that French Canadians speak french or is that a different language as well?
As someone who often gets asked where I'm from in the US, b/c for some reason, people often think I'm African up first meeting me, I totally feel you on the name thing. I can't tell you how many times I've had to tell people that not only am I from Missouri, but so are my parents, and yes, my grandparents and great-grandparents are American, too.
The only thing is that when I go abroad, people still think I'm African — but even moreso. When we were in Belgium, my sister and I had to be stringent about speaking only "American," otherwise we people assumed we lived there and tried to speak to us in really rapid French. It was bizarre but funny. People also thought we were English before we opened our mouths in London, and it took them awhile to adjust to the fact that we were American-American — not Africans living in America.
As someone who often gets asked where I'm from in the US, b/c for some reason, people often think I'm African up first meeting me, I totally feel you on the name thing. I can't tell you how many times I've had to tell people that not only am I from Missouri, but so are my parents, and yes, my grandparents and great-grandparents are American, too.
The only thing is that when I go abroad, people still think I'm African — but even moreso. When we were in Belgium, my sister and I had to be stringent about speaking only "American," otherwise we people assumed we lived there and tried to speak to us in really rapid French. It was bizarre but funny. People also thought we were English before we opened our mouths in London, and it took them awhile to adjust to the fact that we were American-American — not Africans living in America.
Yes, Quebecois is not French. According to my sources here. Their sentence structure is more archaic, as the two "languages" evolved differently. They also use different slang, but in some cases the words are the same. For example the word "gosse" is slang for "kids" in France, while in Quebec it means "balls."
Yes, Quebecois is not French. According to my sources here. Their sentence structure is more archaic, as the two "languages" evolved differently. They also use different slang, but in some cases the words are the same. For example the word "gosse" is slang for "kids" in France, while in Quebec it means "balls."
etc, it's so interesting that the fact that you 'look' like you're from one place far away would make people assume you weren't from 'another' place far away. The African immigrant (and 1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc. generation immigrant) population here in Paris is quite large so it does make a bit of sense, though it's still bizarre they would make the assumption. I'm tempted to make some slightly insulting snap judgement about Belgians and Brits now, but I'll hold my tongue. I haven't been in France long enough to rightfully resent our neighbors.
Same thing happened to my sister when she went to France, so I don't think it's just the Belgians and Brits, froggy. Sadly, I think it's fairly legitimate. Black American women just don't travel or immigrate nearly as much as African women do, so in many ways it's a fair assumption. Neither my sister nor I ran into any other black Americans on our Belgian trip, and she was the only black American in the German internship program that had her weekending in France.
Seriously, though, good luck w/ the language classes. CH and I can't wait to visit you over there one day.
etc, it's so interesting that the fact that you 'look' like you're from one place far away would make people assume you weren't from 'another' place far away. The African immigrant (and 1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc. generation immigrant) population here in Paris is quite large so it does make a bit of sense, though it's still bizarre they would make the assumption. I'm tempted to make some slightly insulting snap judgement about Belgians and Brits now, but I'll hold my tongue. I haven't been in France long enough to rightfully resent our neighbors.
Same thing happened to my sister when she went to France, so I don't think it's just the Belgians and Brits, froggy. Sadly, I think it's fairly legitimate. Black American women just don't travel or immigrate nearly as much as African women do, so in many ways it's a fair assumption. Neither my sister nor I ran into any other black Americans on our Belgian trip, and she was the only black American in the German internship program that had her weekending in France.
Seriously, though, good luck w/ the language classes. CH and I can't wait to visit you over there one day.
Hello Guru, what entice you to post an article. This article was extremely interesting, especially since I was searching for thoughts on this subject last Thursday.
Hello Guru, what entice you to post an article. This article was extremely interesting, especially since I was searching for thoughts on this subject last Thursday.