Talking long-distance: Bite your tongue and say Hakuna Matata
Outside of the USA, Americans are seen as constant rivals in an increasingly competitive world – stupid, fat, khaki shant (the shant of course being a uniquely vague garment in that it is neither pants nor shorts) wearing rivals responsible for rapidly homogenizing distinct cultures through their desire to guzzle the remaining drops of what was once an ocean of natural gas; deep-fry anything not securely fastened to a hard surface, arbitrarily develop their own units of measurement, watch “the game” on TV with a six pack of reduced calorie urine and give every average schmuck his own reality TV program. And spin-off. And clothing line. And book deal (A semi-biographical novel loosely inspired by a true rags-to-riches story no less).
But the reality is that Americans aren’t any stupider than people from other countries. The stupidness of respective populations just manifests itself in different ways. Like the French still thinking they won the World Cup (It’s time to accept the facts. We schooled you.). Or the English thinking that stone are actually a good way to measure weight. Come on. Fourteen pounds? Who are you kidding?
“So you’re from Italy.isn’t that where the Eiffel Tower is?”
Just kidding.
Kidding again. Yes, I was actually asked this my third day on campus. Out of Italy people are especially fascinated by the Italian culture, and I am equally interested in understanding their own. They are shocked to know that Venice smells like death and is constantly flooded, that we don’t actually eat spaghetti with meatballs, and that a businessman is as likely to pee on your building as his dog is. Once I have shat on their romantic fantasies of Italy it is their turn to dispel the ridiculous stereotypes I have been fed about university life in the USA. When I tell them I’ve never seen Laguna Beach, driven a car, played a drinking game or gone to senior prom I garner looks worthy of a leper.
Africa is, like, THE coolest country EVAR.
When people learn I have a South African mother, suddenly the pasta is dropped on the floor and I’m monkey girl – full of valuable knowledge about living in the motherland with all them crazy lions and tigers. The questions range from the tame “did your mother grow up in a hut?” to the wildly offensive “wait, so is your WHOLE family racist?” A good friend from Johannesburg once was told by an excited American, “oh my gosh.you’re from South Africa.I have a friend from Ethiopia!”
There is no language called “African.” Again, reality is far from it. Those cool monkeys with the red butts aren’t so cute when they poo all over your car. Or when they chase you while biking and rip your shorts off to get an apple you’ve concealed underneath. And the closest I’ve come to Simba was his face painfully stretched across the child’s T-shirt sported by a large-breasted Malagasy housewife on an island off the coast of Madagascar.
As we all know, there’s more to a book than its cover, and as educated people it is our job to counter these [often] inaccurate generalisations. Wash. U. is immensely diverse which is why it is so important to be mindful of the different cultures students bring with them to campus. I’m sure every student here has at some point fallen victim to stereotypes associated with where they come from. Other international students at Wash. U. have been asked if they live in igloos in Canada, ride elephants to school in Indonesia or get jailed for chewing gum in Singapore. Just like assuming everyone from Illinois is a Chicagoan, from Long Island is a JAP, Tennessee a hick and Iowa a farmer, such generalizations are not restricted to areas outside of the US. And while the realities are certainly not as interesting as the fantasies we concoct in our heads, in learning to distinguish between the two we are able to peer into cultures and truly understand something “foreign.”
Like the metric system.
It’s better.
Kayla Dalle Molle is a freshman in Arts & Sciences and is from Milan, Italy.
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