America, from Two Perspectives
Chi sono? Io dico che dipende, dal contesto, dal paese, dalla lingua. Davvero, sono così americana come una torta di mela.
Who am I? I say it depends, on the context, on the country, on the language. Really, I’m as American as apple pie.
As a child, I never really thought that much about the saying “as American as apple pie.” It wasn’t until I got older, when I realized the foods that we think of as being quintessentially American usually had their roots somewhere else--for instance, hamburgers (Germany), macaroni and cheese (exact origins unknown, but most likely Northern Europe), even peanut butter (the Incas and the Aztecs were the first to make peanut butter and a Canadian obtained a patent for manufacturing it in 1884)--that I first started to wonder about this ultra-American dish. The first written recipe for apple pie dates back to 14th century England (over a century before Europeans and apples came to the Americas) and Dutch apple pie recipes date back to the 16th century, long before the United States was the United States.
The point I’m trying to make here: what is “as American as apple pie”? How do we define “American”? It’s a question my Italian professor of history of immigration asked which stumped me and my American classmates.
There are approximately 328.2 million people living in the United States right now and if you asked every single one “What is ‘American’?”, you would have millions of answers, different and colored by experience. We at Immigrantly prioritize telling the stories of immigrants and children of immigrants to shed light on the many different faces and stories which make up this concept of America.
I, as a New York born-and-raised daughter of an immigrant, like many of my liberal classmates and friends whose families have lived in the U.S. for generations and generations, am often quick to criticize our government, our stereotypes, our history. However, something that I feel more sharply, especially since Donald Trump was inaugurated as president, is that my mother, at the age of 19 with hardly any money or any connections in the United States, made the choice to come here. She has carved out a piece of the United States and made it her own, made it her home. Her story is just one of millions of people who made that journey and made that decision to come here, who are so incredibly proud to live in the United States, who may now be or may become citizens themselves.
I thought it might be interesting to see the United States from two perspectives: the immigrant’s and that of her daughter’s. I asked my mother (Silvina), in her own words and nearly thirty-two years after she first came to New York, to talk about the United States and her relationship with it, then asking myself (Cassandra) the same questions.
What does the Fourth of July mean to you?
Silvina: The Fourth of July is celebrating American independence from the U.K. with fireworks and barbecues. In a lot of ways, we’re celebrating the birth of America. We celebrate because we’re Americans—like September 16th, Mexican Independence Day, is celebrated by Mexicans and in Mexico. When we celebrate Independence Day in Mexico, the whole town celebrates together, but in the U.S., it’s a whole day and people celebrate with their families.
Cassandra: I never really saw it as much more than a reason to spend time with family and have a party. I don’t celebrate America any more on this day than I do on any other day, but it’s the day my home country declared its independence.
What does it mean to be American?
Silvina: To be American is to be part of the 50 states, to live a better life in the [supposedly] “best country in the world,” and [to have] more opportunities. People are free here to choose their religion, to freedom of speech, to freedom of press and media; you can say what you want about the government, but in other countries, you get killed for speaking out against the government. When I think of an American, I think of someone who is rich, who has so many [material] things people don’t have in other countries. In a way, being American is being lucky--anybody who is able to become a citizen and especially those who were born here are lucky.
Cassandra: I don’t think I can really define an American, but I know I’m American because I’m not anything else: I’m not Italian, I’m not Canadian, I’m not Australian, I’m not anything else. I’m American because I’m a part of this society. It doesn’t matter how I got here, because I buy into the idea of America, of the American dream. I imagine myself to be a part of America, therefore I feel like I am.
Do you see yourself as American? When/where?
Silvina: I’m not from here [the United States], I’m not from there [Mexico], I’m from I don’t know where. Maybe I feel most American at work because I needed to have citizenship in order to get tenure [as a teacher]. When I vote and when I travel, using my passport—that’s when I feel [American], too. I can see the world because I am American. I moved to the United States when I was 19, so I’ve spent more of my life in the U.S. than Mexico, but I still feel more Mexican in the United States.
Cassandra: Yes, I do, but I definitely feel more American when I’m not in the U.S. When I’m abroad, I notice my own Americanisms more fully and I can see more clearly that I’m not British or Italian or Spanish, etc. The moments when I feel most American in the U.S. are when I’m with my family who immigrated here: I don’t have a taste for certain foods or I practice a different religion or my Spanish sounds different because it’s been shaped by my Mexican family as well as Colombian and Spanish teachers and classmates from all throughout Latin America.
What do people get wrong about Americans and about the United States?
Silvina: I had the idea before I came here that Americans were all blonde with blue and green eyes. Not all Americans are like that. What people in other countries see on TV, it’s only what some Americans are doing; not all Americans think the same way, just like in any other country. People think that all Americans are discriminatory, but that’s not true: a lot of Americans care about the problems facing Black people, facing indigenous people, facing people in other countries.
Cassandra: Most of the American stereotypes aren’t ones that people have told me to my face, just what I’ve seen from non-Americans online. I think the biggest one is that we’re ignorant and we don’t know anything about other cultures or that we don’t care to learn about other cultures. In particular, when I’ve gone to Europe and introduced (or tried to introduce) myself in the local language, a lot of people are impressed that I’m even trying because they thought most Americans only spoke English and don’t try to learn a second language.
What is your favorite thing about the United States?
Silvina: I think you can have a better life than you would have in Mexico and in a lot of other countries—that’s why so many people come to this country.
Cassandra: I think it can be best summed up in our traditional motto, E pluribus unum: out of many Americas, one United States of America. There are so many cultures and subcultures and all of them are important in explaining the United States.
Are you proud to be an American? Why?
Silvina: Yes, I am. Being an American has opened the doors to so many other countries. It means I can have a better life for myself and for my family.
Cassandra: I don’t think I’m proud of being American as opposed to being Mexican or Irish or British, etc., but I’m proud of the family history which brought me here—the sacrifices my family made and the struggles they faced and overcame to be here. I’m very proud to be the daughter of an immigrant.
There’s a quote by James Baldwin which I have seen floating around social media as of late: “I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” For a long time, Independence Day has conjured up images of rosy, feel-good patriotism for Americans and non-Americans alike. Maybe this year, in 2020, it should be a moment of reflection: what is America, really? How did we get here? What accomplishments have we made in our near-250 year history? What do we still have to improve on?
I’ll get off my soap box by saying that history is history: the past cannot be changed. Our interpretations of history and the way we choose to remember certain events and movements is malleable. Maybe the most important lesson history teaches us, borrowed from one of my history professors, is that “Nothing in history is inevitable”: we have the power to change and the power to shape our own path forward, but we have to start with reflection.