Coming to Dartmouth as an international student, I experienced a huge culture shock. Surrounded by Americans, I suddenly had to adapt to an environment more similar to the scores of American high school movies I watched throughout my youth. It was unlike anything I had ever encountered before.
Having to prove my understanding of the American culture in various ways, I felt pressured to convince people I was as American as they were and not some weird foreign kid. Being "Americanized" became my strongest defense, a reason for American students to accept me and include me in their conversations.
I grew up in Sweden, but I have never considered myself to be stereotypically or culturally Swedish. At the same time, I am far from the point where I could claim an American identity, despite having spent my last two and a half years in this country. I lived in an international boarding school during my high school years, and was raised to be open-minded. While in an international community, I never felt the need to label myself, or to try to fit into another culture's value system. We all integrated our differences into the community and left parts of our own identities behind to make room for those of others.
But Dartmouth has forced me to accept a new role and look at diversity with new eyes. I realized that our different experiences were seen as divisive forces rather than virtues, and I consequently began to hide my mixed identity behind an American veil.
The vulnerability I faced as I began to redefine my identity was one of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with, but few of my American friends were able to fathom the crisis I went through along with many of my fellow international students. I had never received so many stares and whispers merely by speaking.
I don't blame people for their curiosity, but their tactlessness continues to astonish me. Being an insecure freshman, this marked alienation became an additional burden from which it was hard to escape. Having people constantly turn around in the classroom as I opened my mouth began to get on my nerves, and I became increasingly conscious of the way that I spoke. My speech became the greatest obstacle in disguising my "Swedishness."
Students have, on innumerable occasions, told me, "You have an accent," as if I were unaware of my own speech, while giving me a huge smile conveying their opinion that they had just said something nice.
It never seems to dawn on them that internationals get this reaction from almost every person we meet. The unconscious condescension of many students struck me as they continually asked me whether I understood what they were talking about, although perfectly aware of my English competence.
I have encountered people who sincerely believed they were complimenting me by saying that I was Americanized enough to pass for a citizen. Though, of course, they all agreed that this was after they had gotten used to my accent. One person was hurt by my refusal to recognize myself as being an American simply because "[I] live here now." This reaction made me feel as if being American was something all foreigners should aspire to achieve.
I was unable to suppress my laughter as someone complimented my Trinidadian friend on his good English. Come on! English is the official language of Trinidad and Tobago in case you did not know, and my friend probably received a higher grade on his SATs than most of you. An accent does not necessarily mean that we are any less aware of what you are saying or doing, and there is no need to continuously underscore the degree of separation of which we are more than aware.
But I am in a far better position in terms of acceptance from Americans than many other international students. Rather than sticking with other international students as a way of feeling fully included and accepted, I find myself spending most of my time with U.S. citizens. In mixing with American students, I have noticed that our friendship relies heavily on me being like them: We listen to the same music, watch the same TV series and share similar lifestyles. Our similarities are emphasized, rather than our different experiences. My Swedish identity, to them, represents little more than an accent and a look, and I am starting to feel increasingly deprived of my heritage.
I wish I could say that I am proud of my accent and origin, but it is sometimes hard to face the persistent alienation forced upon me. I presume that I, together with other internationals, will learn how to proudly demonstrate who we are in a more constructive manner than by segregating ourselves or becoming Americanized to blend in, but in order to do so, we need some support.
The "Dartmouth bubble" must make room for foreign influences if we are to fit into an increasingly globalized world. We cannot let the isolation of our location make us blind to the importance of diversity in making us more open-minded people. Instead, we should take advantage of the multiculturalism that this College has to offer. American students must drop their ignorance and obliviousness towards internationals and recognize us as being an integral part of this community just like you, and not some misfits in a world of American virtue.
