By janellekranz
Dear fellow American,
You may be told to travel, in order to make the most of your life while you’re still young and have the ‘time’ to do so.
You may be told to study a language, so that you can improve your chances of landing a well-paying job in the future.
You may be part of a study abroad program, with the purpose of gaining a worldly perspective and improving the language you’re studying.
However, though you may travel, though you may speak the language well enough, you will never cease being American. Although your identity can prove to be helpful or hurtful in different situations, this fundamental part of yourself will surely prove to feel uncomfortable at times.
On Thursday, I visited La Plaza de Mayo, which is the main plaza in front of the Casa Rosada, where the Argentine president works, in downtown Buenos Aires. La Plaza de Mayo is famous for protests, and the most famous of all was started by las madres de los desaparecidos (the mothers of the disappeared). From 1976 to 1983, the Argentine dictatorship waged a “Dirty War” with all who opposed the dictatorship. Military officials “disappeared” nearly 30,000 people during this time, the majority of whom were around 20 years old and either students, labor union leaders, or any other type of leader. On April 30th, 1977, the first march began, and there has been a march in La Plaza de Mayo every Thursday since in order to raise awareness of the thousands of people kidnapped, tortured, killed, and disappeared by the dictatorship.
While at La Plaza de Mayo on Thursday, there was a television news station at the march, and la jefa (the leader) of the political group of the mothers spoke. Her speech heavily supported Kirchnerism, the idealism of the last party in government, which ended in December after more than ten years in power. I felt so uncomfortable standing in the crowd, surrounded by those cheering her on. After all, it’s not my place to support one political party or another here; I can have opinions, sure, but I’m not a direct part of this country’s history.
Or at least that’s how I felt until I heard the words Las Torres Gemelas (The Twin Towers) and los Estados Unidos (United States) thrown around. I had a difficult time understanding what exactly la jefa said, but I know she was talking about my country. She was talking about me, and I was standing in a crowd of people who agreed with her. While I knew nothing would turn violent, I was still nervous. Later when I went home, I told my host Mom about my experience. She then told me that la jefa toasted to the destruction of the Twin Towers on the day they fell, and that made me incredibly angry, even though I knew I should be respectful of la jefa’s beliefs and background.
The thing is that when you’re abroad, you begin to realize that the world has different perspectives about what an American is and what America represents. I have spoken with people who think Americans are rich, loud, healthy, privileged, ignorant, or all of the above. However, I had never experienced first-hand hatred of Americans until Thursday. I began to think about why people have certain opinions of Americans which are vastly different from what I perceive Americans to be. These foreign views may stem from news outlets, television shows, travelers, or experiences with governments. Do these people have the right to think badly of Americans? I’m not sure. It’s true that the US has influenced Latin America’s governments – largely for its own advantage – numerous times, but I don’t think it warrants hatred.
I’ve found that being American is sometimes a tough situation to navigate. What can I do about what others think about me? Can I alone change their minds about the US? I think the most I can do right now is be respectful and understanding by keeping an open mind about other stereotypes and becoming more aware of the history behind why foreigners might treat me differently as an American.
Suerte,
Janelle