A is for American (adj.) (n.)

Ex: (A couple sentences into the conversation) I’m going to guess you’re… American?

[Editor’s note: As I think everyone is aware, “American” is not actually a Scottish word. As the creator, author, and editor, I’ve used my influence at the weekly Aye is for Adventure board meeting and we’ve decided, in this instance, that we’ll make an exception this week. We want to thank you for your flexibility and we hope to avoid these disturbances in future.]

Obviously, lots to think about this week as far as being American goes. When I first arrived in Scotland, I thought about my identity as an American constantly. Now that I’ve been here for almost five weeks (!) it’s something that comes and goes.

Before I left, my attitude towards America on the whole was neutral-to-annoyed. I thought, eh, it’s alright, but man the crazies need to pipe down and stop ruining it for everyone. Seriously.

I also viewed America in parts. I viewed the West Coast as a completely separate entity from the East Coast as a completely separate entity from the South, etc., as many Americans do. When having conversations with British students about America, when explaining where I was from, I would map out the US with my hands and say “This is where the stereotypes come from. I grew up HERE and I go to school HERE.” just to make sure they understood – not America - San Francisco and Seattle. HERE and HERE.

While in Scotland, and especially this week, I’ve come to the obvious conclusion that, for better or worse, we’re one nation. All of us, with all our opinions, and everyone under this crazy spectrum of politics we seem to span is roped into the same governing body. We only have one federal government between us, which seems like just an awful idea (re: crazy spectrum).

The pity of all this is, before this week, I was actually feeling really good about America. I’m starting to get into that downswing of study abroad where, no matter how wonderful the place is, you kinda miss home and want to be back. I miss bubble tea and I miss really good hamburgers. I’m dreading missing Thanksgiving dinner with my family. I miss diners, for crying out loud. I don’t even frequent diners, but they’re so American and great and sadly, not in Scotland.

Mostly I’ve started really loving the conversations I’ve had with British students about America. It’s brought American culture (something I wasn’t sure existed until recently) right into focus for me. It’s mostly our philosophies – I love the value of hard work and ambition. I absolutely love that our constitution says that all men are created equal and that rhetoric has shaped so much of how we think. Obviously there are inconsistencies in the way it plays out in our society, but I’ve come to appreciate that those are our starting points.

So anyway, as I’m starting to feel all patriotic, my government fails to pass a run-o’-the-mill budget because some crazies still can’t accept that sometimes progress happens and will do everything in their power to make sure we regress just because their party says new is bad and they deny their capacity to think critically when presented the evidence. And now they will literally stop at nothing to make sure they get their way.

What? My politics are showing? Oh gosh how embarrassing thanks for telling me

(Yes, I understand I maybe lit a fire under half my readership. Sorry. Kindly file my comments under “Young and Opinionated and Receiving Higher Education from a Liberal Institution in the Northwest” if need be and try to set them aside as best you can as you read on.)

At first, it was kinda satisfying to rant around my British friends, because it’s a given they’ll understand how crazy this is. But as the week went on, it became clear that America is the butt of a lot of jokes usually, and not just when crazy stuff happens. I knew that before this week, but I finally grasped the scope of how ingrained into British culture it is. America is kinda like the younger brother who, after leaving home, is kinda successful (how it happened no one is really sure) so we let him live his life however he wants, but once he’s left the room you all talk about how you’re actually kinda worried for him because you really think there might be something wrong with him in the head.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that America, I love you, but you’re embarrassing me in front of my friends. I mean, I'll try defend you best I can, but... everyone's got their limits, you know?