Developing My Identity in a World of Stereotypes

Developing My Identity in a World of Stereotypes

Elizabeth Mary

    It is precisely 4:20 on August 22, 2011, as I am walking to my American Identities class.  It is the first day of classes of my senior year of college, and I am feeling nervous, anxious, and excited all in one.  As I am walking towards Fenton Hall, a friend stops me to ask where I am headed. 

“American Identities” I reply nonchalantly.   

“What’s that?”  she asks indifferent.  

“Good question,” I mutter.   

    It was a great question.  One that I began wondering about during the rest of the walk to class.  Even after the first class, I was not fully aware of the answer.  Little did I know, there is not one specific definition of American identities.  Rather, it is a question that relates to your own personal identity, and how that relates to your idea of the ultimate American identity, if you believe in one.  For me to better understand American identities, I had to first explore my own identity and how it has shaped me into the person I am today.  And so it began on that day, August 22, 2011, that I first set out to explore my identity.

    
    Beginning the journey of exploring my identity has given me perspective on my life.  Without knowing who I was, I could not develop my own goals as a person or as a citizen of this country.  I urge you all to take a step back, and as you read this, think about who you are.  Has your identity changed over time?  Have you tried to accomplish goals that meant a lot to you?  Think about what defines your world and how that in turn plays a role in what American identities means to you.  The first step I took in this journey was simply going back to the basics by exploring my age and gender.

Age and Gender:

    For some, the fact that I am twenty-one years old and in college may already say a lot about my personality-that is, a hard-core drinker who just wants to party and hook up all the time.  These college stereotypes are common throughout the United States, with at least half the college population actually living up to these expectations.  Both my age and gender say a lot about what I am “supposed” to be like, instead of who I really am.

    In retrospect, my gender plays a huge role in my own identity development.  As a senior in college, I look back on my first few months at Fredonia and I do not even know who that person was.  I was under the impression that if I did not drink on the weekends, then I was “uncool.”  If I stayed in on a weekend to watch a movie, I would be made fun of by my roommate.  Why couldn’t I do what I wanted to do?  Even in high-school, I was known as the “class ditz.”  I thought this was great because it meant that guys noticed me.  Guys wanted girls they could make fun of because it meant he liked you.  That was my philosophy.  But soon it was not an act anymore.  Celebrities who said funny and stupid things were always in magazines constantly being talking about.  Jessica Simpson’s “Is this chicken or tuna?” comment made national headlines.  I was beginning to act “blond” all the time.  I colored my hair, wore lots of makeup, and lost 10 pounds just to be “that” girl.  When I began to attend college, it was no doubt that I had no idea who I was.  After a few months of adjustments, I began to grow into my own skin little by little and begin developing into the person I am today.   

After that stressful freshman year of college, I always made the Dean’s list, tried my hardest, and did not let myself be that “stupid” girl who did not know who she was.  My gender is who I am.  So many women feel like they need to be quiet and timid to live up to society’s “expectations” of them.  I personally know many women in today’s society that graduate college and then become housewives, merely living off of their husband’s money.  This phenomenon has become so popular that there are even reality television shows called “The Housewives of Orange County” or “New Jersey” or even “Atlanta.”  As a society we have become so obsessed with watching how wealthy people live and act.  We crave the drama that takes place in their lives and love to look at their designer clothes.  My sisters watch these shows and I often wonder why.  I’d much rather read a book, but that’s just me.  

At twenty-one I can now honestly say I know who I am.  I am going to be an English teacher.  I am a lover of books and music.  I always say what is on my mind, and I do not care what people think of me.  I do not let college boys walk all over me.  I am strong and determined.  I am a woman, and I love who I am.  This may change throughout the years, but regardless of that change, my age and gender will always play a role in my identity.

Family and Friends:

    My identity at twenty-one goes way back to my roots.  I would not have gotten to the place I am today without my family and friends.  Everyday I feel so grateful for the people I have in my life.  Granted it has not always been this way.  As an adolescent, I took my friends and family for granted, only caring about myself.  Coming to college, I really began to appreciate everything my parents have sacrificed for me.  I have been extremely lucky in having both of my parents there for me as I was growing up.  They never missed the softball games, prom pictures, and music concerts that meant so much to me.  Even through that struggling time in high-school when I did not know who I was, my family and friends both stuck by my side, knowing I would soon see the light in the tunnel.  

My parents have passed down generations of traditions for our family to experience.  Traditions that I will pass down to my own family as well.  My ethnicities are both Italian and Polish, so respecting my heritage is also important to my family.  During the holidays we always honor Italian and Polish traditions, whether it be through what we cook or how we celebrate.   Family recipes have been passed down from generation to generation, ones that I will teach my family in the future as well.  I want to keep my American identity, but at the same time, stay true to my roots.

Reading the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua in class has really helped me to better understand the role of cultural diversity in the world.  Amy Chua is a Chinese-American mother, who is raising a family in America.  Her parenting style differs greatly than most American parenting style because she stays very true to her ethnic identity.  Chua’s own parents were very hard on her as a child, believing studying and working hard were the most important things.  Chua passes these beliefs down to her own children as well.  Regardless of whether we agree with Chua’s parenting styles or not, it is still important to note how she brings her own ethnicity and her new American identity into raising her family.  Even if she lives in a different environment, she still holds true to her culture, and that is very respectable.

While reading The Death of Josseline in American Identities, I became even more aware of how my family plays a huge role in who I am.  This work of journalism and investigative reporting, written by Margaret Regan, is about the treacherous journey Immigrants have to make when crossing the Arizona border.  Regan’s reporting was hard for me to read at times because I could not imagine never having one of my parents with me while growing up.  Granted we did not have a nice family dinner every night, but my dad does not have to live in another state or country to make money to support us.  Regan goes into great depth about what America is doing about Immigration and migrants who cross into Arizona.  People are dying slow deaths on the trails because of the poor conditions and Border Patrol.  Mexico is very close to the United States, and I was not even aware that this was happening until I read Regan’s work.     

How does our country feel about the, as Regan says, “human tragedy” that is taking place?  Immigration is no longer just a word to me.  Immigration means poverty, death, hardships, lonesome families, and struggle.  This piece of journalism enables me to connect to Josseline, the young girl who died alone on the trail.  Regan takes me into the heart of these people’s lives.  I can even sympathize with these migrants.  Where else are they supposed to go?  They want to go to a better place, and to these migrants, this place is America.  America, the same nation defined as freedom.  The same nation that is going to spend billions of dollars to put up a virtual fence in 2014 to protect its borders.  America identifies itself in two contradicting ways in a sense.  What does freedom mean to us?  Does it mean that Immigrants cannot migrate to our country because they are from Mexico?  Does it only matter if we are free and not if the migrants are free?  

Our country was founded upon Immigrants, yet we do not even want them to enter our country.  If they do, many people discriminate against them and use racial slurs towards them.  People all over the world immigrated to our country hundreds of years ago, but now it seems like we make them the minority because some may not be Caucasian.  For example, many Native Americans settled in our country long before the Thirteen Colonies were developed, but we still treat this group of people as though they are not part of our country at times.  This brings me to my next thought:  what is “national” identity?      

National Identity:

    The first week of this class was very interesting, to say the least.  I have always thought about common American stereotypes, but I never really put labels on them before.  It was very helpful for me to discuss these stereotypes with a group of classmates.  I learn a great deal by having discussions with others, so I gained a lot of insight about different experiences and interpretations from this group of people.  The Ultimate American Stereotype Competition was fun, but at the same time really informative.  This competition consisted of my classmates and I forming groups and coming up with our own example of the “Ultimate American Stereotype.”  This not only enabled me to think about my own identity as a whole, but the competition also gave me time to reflect on what America and the American people mean to me.  I began to ask myself questions such as, “are we really a lazy, ignorant society?”  

Though I am not obese or lazy when it comes to my health and mind, I may be ignorant at times.  During class we watched a Jay Leno video where he asked Americans random questions about our country that they should know the answer to.  I found myself astonished that these people could not answer simple questions such as “how many stars are on the American flag?”  But, at the same time, I am no better than them.  Before taking this class I have never read The Constitution nor The Declaration of Independence.  I also did not know much about politics.  I felt so embarrassed and mortified to even admit that I did not know much about the government at all.  I always told myself that I would put time aside to read the newspaper or watch the news, but I’d never end up doing it.  I wanted to be interested in politics so I could understand more about the daily decisions the government makes regarding the country I am living in and my future.  I wanted to be informed about events and issues happening around the country and the world, but I was having trouble finding something that relates to me, something that I can connect with.  

Hurricane Irene was something that affected my extended family, so I began strengthening my national identity by religiously informing myself on the status of the hurricane when this took place.  My family also has a lot of health care troubles, so I try to keep up to date on health insurance issues.  When my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I made it a habit to constantly be up-to-date about the health care activist Elizabeth Edwards (who has sadly passed away) and what she was doing in regards to health care coverage.  I find that if I cannot connect or relate to something in the newspaper, I will not read it.  It is not only that I cannot relate, but I find myself so intimidated by some of the terminology used in the USA Today, for example, that I do not even bother reading the articles because I feel like I won’t understand any of it.  Is this what happened to the Americans on the Jay Leno show?  

National identity can mean many things to different types of people.  To me, it does not mean needing to have legal status or believing in a certain set of ideas.  National identity to me is believing in your own set of ideas and opinions, but being respectful of others’ differing opinions as well.  America is made up of many different types of cultures and ethnicity's.  National identity is accepting these cultures and beliefs for what they are, and still being able to maintain your own ideas and values.  While my American Identities course is coming to an end, I can now say I know so much more about politics than I did before.  I have made time to be up-to-date with current events so I can form my own beliefs and opinions on issues regarding America, because this I believe, is a huge part of one’s national identity.  

I feel most American, for example, when I set time aside to learn about the virtual fence the government wants to put up on the Arizona border, disagree with it, but still accept the decisions and ideas the American government makes and believes in.  These same ideas relate to the identities of Americans who are racially, ethnically, or religiously different than me.  By understanding and learning about other cultures and ethnicities, I am able to become more tolerant and accepting of those who are different, and still form my own beliefs based off of what I have learned about different cultures as a whole.       

Understanding the World Around Us:

    American identities means how we as a country define ourselves and what that impact is on our society today.  I believe understanding world history plays a huge role in how we think about our society, and the struggles and challenges we face on a daily basis.  I also believe that in order to understand American identities we need to understand our country’s impact on the world around us.   

Contrary to the Ultimate American Stereotypes Competition we held at the beginning of the semester, I do not believe there is one stereotype that can define all of America.  In my opinion, America is not a word that signifies one group of stereotyped people.  Many history textbooks focus on the perspective of one group of people, but I think a huge part of understanding American identities is reading and learning about different events in history and in society now, and how they have influenced multiple groups of people.  Everyone in America has their own story that represents who they are and what they can do for their society.  I think it is so wrong when History teachers teach right from the text, merely having his or her students memorize facts in order to pass the class.  We as a nation need to learn from experiences and events and reflect upon them.  Knowing the facts of World War II is not going to give me a huge insight and perspective on what the War did for the American people.  I have read memoirs about wives and children who grew up during this time, as well as talked with many veterans to better understand what America was like during these years.  Instead of placing judgments on the decision to drop the Atomic Bomb, for example, I want to take many different perspectives into consideration in order to better understand the world around me, and not just the world the textbooks give me.          

My identity has changed throughout this course because I have thought about what American identities means to me.  Instead of using others’ opinions, I used those thoughts to develop my own beliefs on my own identity and what national identity means to me.  Being able to examine one’s self is not easy, but it is extremely important.  Nothing is going to get accomplished if we are all just a cloud in the sky.  Instead, we as a society have to learn about ourselves and our world and take those beliefs to better understand what we can do to make America less about stereotypes and more about acceptance.  Stereotypes are always going to be around, whether it be in America or in another country.  What matters is what we do with those preconceived notions and perceptions.  

It has been months since that first American Identities class, and I can honestly say I feel like I have become a different person.  Instead of walking down the hall endlessly dreading another class to go to, I found myself questioning my own thoughts and opinions about myself and society.  Each day I have become even more aware of how much my opinion does matter and make a difference to others.  I am not just another number and neither are you.  Your opinions and perspectives matter to an ever-growing diverse society.      

Explore your own identity; it may surprise you.

Works Cited

Chua, Amy. Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. New York: Penguin, 2011. Print.

Regan, Margaret. The Death of Josseline: Immigration Stories from the Arizona-Mexico Borderlands. Boston, MA: Beacon, 2010. Print.

The Ideal American Identity: Male. White. "American"?

The Ideal American Identity: Male. White. “American”?

A.B.

“I’m A., a woman, white and American.” What would you think if I approached you and introduced myself as such? If your reaction is anything like mine, you’d probably be a bit taken aback if I felt the need to mention such information concerning myself, my identity. Without ever really thinking about it or making a conscious decision to do so, I’ve always omitted it whenever I introduce myself. Perhaps this illustrates that I tend to take my Americanness, my race, and perhaps even my sex and/or gender for granted. I doubt that I’m alone in that. Have you ever considered your own identity? What parts of your identity are considered to be crucial? Is it your nationality, race/ethnicity, gender/sex? One thing I think we all need is to become more conscious of is how we see and conceive our own and others’ identities. Instead of taking them for granted, we ought to question them, and the categories out of which we build them.

Take me, for example. When I consider my personal ethnic and racial heritage, I have roots in Germany, England, Norway, and Denmark. However, there was never any heavy emphasis within my household on our heritage. Having grown up in the Western New York area my entire life, I had come to know a sizeable number of Polish and Italian families who carried many ethnic traditions, especially around the holidays.  My family was not one of these.  My ethnic heritage was something I could rattle off if someone did ask, but never did we associate strongly with one ethnic heritage or another.

            I tend to frequently identify myself in terms of my status as a student. Ever since I applied to college, my undergraduate major has become a key part of my identity.  I almost became prepared to readily spill out, “Hi, I’m A. I’m a Psych and Women’s Studies major.” The question of what my major was seemed to be a part of every opening conversation I had in college and outside of campus. Everyone always seemed to inquire as to what other people’s majors were, as if discovering the answer was to give some critical insight as to what kind of individual that person was. Some commonly overheard examples were: “Music? You must have no spare time.” “Biology? Oh my goodness, you must be really smart.” “Psychology? Are you trying to diagnose me right now?” “What the hell is ‘Women’s Studies?’”

            Perhaps one’s major, as well as the status of being a college student, is perceived as a way to roughly determine what one’s occupational and class status is. Indeed, I feel as though occupation is seen by American citizens as a sort of hallmark of an individual’s level of prestige, money, and power. We idealize the individual whose occupation is a doctor; we don’t idealize a person who works as a janitor. We assume that the doctor is more intelligent, more sophisticated, and perhaps even more compassionate than the janitor. In films and on T.V. shows, when a janitor is featured, he is almost always depicted as the poor guy being called to the cafeteria to clean up vomit. Conversely, doctors have whole dramatic series dedicated to them. In these ways, the doctor is essentially the ideal American, personifying the “American dream.”

            One of the primary ways we subscribe to the idea of the American dream is through our culture’s emphasis on family. I am A.B., daughter of J.B. and C.B., and a sister to C. and M. Locally--especially in smaller communities--strangers would like to think that they can tell a lot about an individual based on what family they come from. If a child’s parents are attorneys, that child may be held to a higher level of regard by someone who knows what their parents’ professions are. Even college enrollment can be partially contingent on a family member’s graduation from that particular college. Traditional family structures in western society also can have a significant effect on one’s gender identity and overall American identity.
            Furthermore, categorization is an important process within America. We categorize everything from sex to race to class. And when we are confronted with ambiguity, we grow extremely discomforted. For instance, consider a multiracial individual, whose race is ambiguous. One may grow uncomfortable and continue to try and pinpoint the individual’s race using various schemas, which have been built and perpetuated through society. Often our schemas harbor stereotypes and overgeneralizations, leading us to wrongly apply them to an individual. A minor problem that can then arise when a person is confronted with a multiracial individual is the application of stereotypes and overgeneralizations which could even lead for one to rule that the multiracial individual to have only one race, or even a wrong race. This instance can certainly be applied to any minority individual, for one may wrongly identify them as another race.

            One personal example of this includes my younger sister’s boyfriend, R..  When R. first moved to my sister's school, he was classified as Mexican and/or Black by many people, when in fact he is Puerto Rican. Friends of his would either be the source of the question or the receivers of the common question, "What exactly is he?" When people weren't troubling over what his ethnicity/race was, he was often called Mexican in a degraded sense and a "grape picker". Stereotypes were certainly at work: Latinos were invariably Mexicans and/or illegal immigrants. He even was asked by some of the teachers to pronounce a certain Spanish word or to translate, even though English is his first language, and he doesn’t feel particularly comfortable with his Spanish skills. There is certainly a need for people to become aware that despite the seemingly common core of values, Hispanic/Latinos are diverse and encounter different challenges and opportunities. Particularly within educational settings, Hispanic/Latino students must be looked at as individuals with unique characteristics, personal academic strengths, and learning styles.    

            American animator Mike Judge’s “The Goode Family” pilot provides a pop culture commentary that mocks both stereotypical "liberal" and "conservative" mindsets. The eponymous Goode family struggles with the social and environmental responsibilities of being American liberals, and the conflicts that arise for a working-class family when trying to be politically correct about everything all the time. Situations in the premiere episode included shopping at a natural foods store without having brought reusable bags, and how to refer to ethnic groups in a politically correct way. In the same episode, the Goodes explain their decision to adopt a child from Africa in hopes of promoting racial tolerance within their community. However, the Goodes end up with a Caucasian South African baby instead of the black child they expected. His name, Ubuntu Goode–taken from Ubuntu, a concept from African philosophy—means humanity, compassion, and goodness. This example, while humorous, demonstrates the very real misconceptions which people may have when considering Africa’s demographics. People in the West tend to use "black" and "African" synonymously, essentially leaving out all those who are African but not black. Also, not all black individuals are African. A similar situation arises when one thinks about how Western cultures characterize Asians. In the Americas, "Asian" tends to refer to individuals from China, Korea, Japan, and other Pacific Asian regions.  Conversely, in Europe, "Asian" is understood to mean Indian or Pakistani. The episode of “The Goode Family” demonstrates how individuals may believe they are aware of racial issues, yet fail to recognize their own ignorance. In addition, the application of stereotypes and the need to racially categorize people needs to be critically examined and challenged, for the effects can be detrimental to an individual’s own identity.

Another example of ambiguity which we grow uncomfortable with is ambiguity of gender or sex. Intersex conditions are often treated as a medical emergency that requires immediate surgical intervention. Concerns for the inability of parents to bond with the child appropriately due to the ambiguity of the child’s sex are a high priority for doctors treating intersex individuals.  This attitude suggests that an individual whose genitalia is ambiguous would find socialization and peer interaction difficult because their sex and gender is unclear. Consequently, there is a perceived need to label individuals within an appropriate sex box in order to socialize them into appropriate gender identity. Note the final steps of our birthing process, and how child birth certificates--which ask parents to specify the sex of the child--are due within 42 hours. As children grow, they are constantly learning about themselves, developing their own identity and how they are “supposed to act.” They learn what is deemed as appropriate gender-specific behavior. Gender typing is how children acquire not only a gender identity but also the motives, values, and behaviors considered appropriate in their society for their sex. Children conceptualize gender in a different ways depending on which level of development they are at, according to the cognitive developmental theory. However, to be exposed to gendered role content can highly influence their personal gender schemas.

It is clearly evident that children could learn the stereotypical characteristics from things such as fairy tales. Snow White, for example, emphasizes the importance of beauty and the ability to perform domestic housework. Beauty is what the whole story is based around for the evil queen wants to kill Snow White because she is the “fairest one of all” and the reason the hunter who is sent to kill Snow White is unable to commit the murder is because she is so beautiful and sweet. I feel that these scenes can easily influence a young girl into thinking that the greatest qualities for a woman to possess are youth and beauty. Snow White is also depicted doing stereotypical activities of a woman--like housecleaning. She is shown smiling, singing and happily doing domestic housework for the seven dwarfs almost on impulse after entering their cottage. She also makes the comment upon arriving into the cottage that whoever lives there must not have a mother. I feel that this comment assumes that it is a mother’s job to clean and care for the house, and that domestic chores are part of female nature.

A crucial part of American identity is the need to categorize individuals, whether it is race or gender or sex. We need clear-cut, definite answers, and are uncomfortable with ambiguity. This is a major flaw within American identity, for the need to categorize individuals leads to denial of parts of people’s true identity, whether they are intersex, multiracial, or perhaps both.            

When did I first realize I was a woman? I would have to say I was forced to realize this essential part of my identity when I first began to experience crude behaviors and acts from boys, and perhaps more disturbingly, older men. This included hearing wolf-whistles, seeing kissy-faces, being cat-called at, and having slow-moving vehicles with men inside them stare and give a thumbs-up as I walked down the road. Being a woman is certainly a crucial aspect of my identity, because despite being biologically female, gender plays a significant role in all aspects of my life. While growing up I experienced a lot of sexism, but it wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I was able to revisit a lot of the situations I had encountered and label them easily as sexist. Now, I am a senior majoring in Psychology and Women’s Studies, a certified advocate for the Anew Center in Jamestown, passionately involved in the Women’s Studies program, Vice President of WSU, and have completed an internship with the CEASE program on-campus. Being a woman and considering the experiences--though often negative--I have faced, they helped me pursue certain goals and harnessed that part of my identity, in order to further grow and establish multiple identities.

Sexism plays a large role in the American identity.  Sexism in the United States certainly helps form our model for what the ideal American should be: Male. White. “American.” America was discovered and built by our “founding fathers,” and it wasn’t until the Nineteenth Amendment that women were even given the opportunity to vote, to be a part of the political realm.

Today, women continue to fight to gain equality, such as striving to diminish the wage gap that exists, gaining equal pay for equal work. Women on welfare may face prejudiced attitudes and behaviors for many reasons, but particularly because prejudiced attitudes and behaviors are justified through the legitimizing of myths about women on welfare. One myth which often keeps stereotypical thoughts surrounding women on welfare established is the bootstrap myth. The bootstrap myth, which states that the best way for a person or group of people to come up in the world is to create their own opportunities and lift themselves up by their bootstraps, is often illustrated and romanticized by classic American “rags to riches” stories. This myth may explain why many people attribute poverty to individualistic characteristics; they were able to get where they are by themselves.

One structural attribution which may contribute to poverty includes low wages. The wage gap continues to exist despite The Equal Pay Act of 1963. As of 2006, women earn just 77 cents for every dollar earned by men. Minority women fare the worst. African-American women earn just 64 cents to every dollar earned by White men, and for Hispanic women, that figure drops to merely 52 cents per dollar. The feminization of poverty may also contribute to prejudiced attitudes towards women. Feminization of poverty describes an overrepresentation of females among the poor. In 2007, 13.8% of the population was classified as poor women, whereas 11% were poor males. From this statistic, it is clear that women are overrepresented among the poor. This is a double-edged sword, as it may lead to additional prejudiced attitudes to be focused on women.

Exploring Social Injustice as an Identity

I think I first became aware of race and ethnicity-related issues (at least at some primitive level) as a toddler. At an early age I was exposed to different media, already creating schemas to help me organize and perceive the world around me. However, influencing my views greatly were my parents, who taught me to always be socially conscious and to treat everyone with respect. I was taught at a young age that everyone is created equally and should be treated as such, and to “do onto others as you would want them to do unto you," and that it's never polite to point.

At an early age, my parents always focused on equality and educating my siblings and I about the world and oppression through historical events and personal experiences. Another important lesson which my parents taught was to "never judge a book by its cover," to never allow for someone's physical appearances define who they are. Now I know that many parents may follow similar golden rules, but I believe what made my parents’ advice so effective was their ability to practice and not just preach.

However, within my high school system, we rarely discussed racial and ethnic issues, unless we were talking about the civil rights movement or we were just finishing up reading Black Like Me by John Howard Griffin (which I discovered is no longer in the curriculum). Although this is definitely more than what some educational systems may provide, sadly, it wasn't until my freshman year in college that I began to have a sort of social awakening.

I have experienced and seen far too many instances of racism (one is too many). One experience that sadly isn’t an isolated one is when my Korean-American boyfriend and I would visit a restaurant; the hostess would often assume we weren't together, offering me a table for one. Another instance that I can recall is when someone harassed T. with racist comments and threats, using his race as a target of violence and hatred. Also, during a lecture, I watched as a professor was getting familiarized with students’ names, asking them to say their names before they shared an answer. But when the professor arrived to an Asian-looking male student, she didn't ask for his name, perhaps assuming that she wouldn’t be able to pronounce that student’s name correctly anyway. The student then shared the answer, speaking perfect English with no detectable accent. I feel that through my personal experiences of race and ethnicity, I have gained a better understanding of how crucial being white is to the American Identity. With being white comes privilege, a sense of security. Rather than worrying about whether someone is going to make a racist comment or the assumption that you can’t speak English based on physical features, being a white American allows one to rest assured that your children’s history books will include ancestral history that will not be restricted to a special month out of the year. Furthermore, through instances I have witnessed, to be able to speak English is an important part of the American identity. To be an American is to speak English. We see this expressed in adages such as, “Welcome to America, we speak English.”

Another personal experience that I have had which has helped me gain a better understanding of the American identity is an experience of sexism. During high school, I sadly experienced quite a few occasions of sexual harassment. One incident involved a boy who decided to grope my chest. In defense, I bit him right above his nipple, on his chest. Now, I hadn’t been aiming for this particular area, nor did I really know why I reacted with biting, but I did, and I left a bruise of teeth marks and I got written up. Conversely, the boy got away free. Later, I challenged my write-up explaining what happened to a guidance counselor with the boy sitting right beside me. The boy still got away with nothing.

Despite the fact that I didn’t have to serve detention after the meeting, I still felt grossly dissatisfied with its outcome.  I felt as though the school’s administration truly didn’t understand that what had happened to me was part of a bigger underlying problem in American identities. The administration failed to recognize that he had performed an act of sexual harassment and despite the apparent physical harm I had inflicted on him they ignored what psychological effects the incident may have had on me. This incident helped me realize that women do have to overcome obstacles which men may have to ever encounter.  It helped to solidify the American identity to me because it demonstrated the value of a man and woman within our society.

Many people may never experience a social awakening, for they may never be given the opportunity to consciously explore themselves and the culture which they live in.  Others will choose to deny their social awakening, for the path which they have been following has been a comfortable path, a path within a society which has been good to them. Those people might say, “Why challenge that path?” I have been allowed the opportunity, and continue to experience a number of opportunities, to continue to learn and explore my own biases and culture which has helped to instill and support them.

Adopting a Conscious Identity

On some levels, it is important for one to be proud of his or her home country, as a society which is completely apathetic toward the place it resides will fail to contribute to its betterment. However, blind pride is just as dangerous as apathy, and it is important to examine the assumptions we do make about the United States. For example, the phrase, “love it or leave it--it’s the best country in the world,” excuses the faults of our culture and policies, and places criticism on anyone willing to pass judgment on the negative aspects of the U.S. It diminishes the likelihood of positive change. It is important to recognize that the American identity as it stands now is an unrealistic one, built upon stereotypes. The American identity needs to be more realistic and encompassing of America’s general population. It should be constantly shifting and changing, as does the make-up of the general public. In truth, some of the adages have become so ingrained into our attitudes of the United States that they often blind us to the truth and the existence of crippling propaganda.

The American identity should be one of complexities and multiplicities, and one which embodies everyone. I do not subscribe to the concept of a colorblind society as a means to alleviate our problems. As I have stated, one’s race/ethnicity and gender are important parts of one’s identity and should be recognized, rather than ignored.  Furthermore, as the population make-up of America grows increasingly more diverse it is important to recognize so in the American identity. We can recognize each other’s differences while still remaining conscious of the challenges that different demographics face. Additionally, we must reexamine (and eliminate) the assumptions that we make about each group. Otherwise, people will severely suffer in attempting to aspire for an American identity which is realistically unattainable, especially if you’re homosexual, black or female.

The Condition of Being Oneself

Here's an Identification Project from Catherine Essenza!

The Condition of Being Oneself

Some days I feel old. I know I’m not—I just hit 19 and I’m young and thriving. But some days, I just feel like I’ve seen all types of people. I’m taking a class right now (hence the reason for this post) which is based on American identities. I’m a sophomore at a college in the western New York area. Throughout the almost two decades of my life, I have gone through changes and events that have shaped who I’ve become, and helped solidify my own identity. Some of these things were negative and some were positive, but overall they allowed me to grow as a person and find myself. Though I wouldn’t necessarily want to repeat some of the bad—I’m not masochistic in the least—I know that experiencing them ended up benefiting me in the long run.  Among the most important things that I value about myself are my personality, my passions, my attitude towards others, and the people with whom I associate myself.

Though I am far from perfect, I usually try to go by the golden rule: treat others as you would like to be treated. This was something emphasized in my life growing up, and something I strongly value. At points, I was known for being blond—just the hair color, not the stereotype that typically goes with it. I still remember hearing a blonde joke for the first time, and not understanding why the girl with light hair was supposedly stupid. I knew I wasn’t, so I never cared about that stereotype.  I was the gleeful little girl with pale Parisian curls and bright blue eyes that were usually lost in a book. I was recognized for being happy and smiling continuously as a child and part of that identity translated into who I am as a young adult.

I love smiling. And I love that people smile when they’re happy, but smiling also makes people happy.  It’s a wonderful little cycle. The attitude I put out is the same kind that I like to see in my friends. I try to surround myself with happy, confident people who have a love and passion for life. I do not drink or do drugs, and the majority of my friends are very similar to me—at the very least, they drink minimally which I don’t mind. I feel that a crucial part of maturing is the realization of what traits you value most in yourself and the people you have in your life and making sure that those qualities are noticeable.

The things in life that bring me joy are also an important part of my identity. I love horseback riding, drawing, writing, playing flute, photography and many other art forms. I prefer to let nature inspire me than to focus on technology. Don’t get me wrong—I love my cell phone and computer and camera. But the sun is really wonderful, and the seasons are enchanting. I get all four here, though winter is a bit longer than I would prefer. I’m more of a summer girl, for all I love snowflakes. Nature is lovely, and it’s one of the many things that I try not to take for granted. Horseback riding took up the majority of my childhood, and the responsibility that came with riding and helping to care for horses at the stable I rode at gave me maturity at a young age. All of the things that make up my hobbies and interests have given me varying experiences that continue to mold me.

Outside of these passions are incidents that took me away from them—I seem to be chronically accident-prone. Whether it was getting repeatedly ill as a child, or the nerve damage and broken ribs that kept me from doing anything for two years (the second half of my high school experience), I have had my share of hardships. These events, no matter how terrible they were at the time, allowed me to grow and appreciate how blessed I am. I’m not saying it was okay that they happened. it was not okay that I was in pain and it was not okay that doctors told me I would never get better. That was not okay with me, but those things did happen and I moved through and past them. I can’t, and won’t, say that I did it alone, though. Alone, I never would have made the same progress that I did with the people in my life supporting me.

Through these—let’s call them challenges—I tried new things, adapted to difficulties, and learned to love everything life threw at me. While it took some time to love everything life threw (and no, lemons were not chucked my way), I finally got to the point where I was tired of being angry and hurt and sad. It’s difficult to be grateful for everything all the time; I have my moments where life feels crappy, and during my challenges those moments were a lot more frequent than I’d like to admit. But I always had and have a strong foundation in my friends and family who gently remind me of the beauty there is, and I am able to go on being myself. 

My family has played a key role in shaping me into the person I am and helping me solidify my own identity. Understanding my family allows someone to better understand me, and vice versa.  Love is of the upmost importance—love, in the unconditional sense. My parents taught me to love everyone first, simply for being human, and to love them in different stages from that point on. That doesn’t mean trusting every person I meet—I’m not that naïve, but everyone should be recognized. My parents gave me the freedom of faith in whatever I chose to believe in, so long as I believed in something good. My family is the most important part of my life, and so much of my individuality comes from what they’ve taught me. Together they have built me up into such a strong person that I can be independent and know who I am, while still wanting to be with them. If everyone had the family life that I do, the world would be a very different place.

Growing up, my family didn’t focus on watching T.V. It was rare to ever have it on—we read an hour every day for one hour of television a week, plus one family movie every Friday night. We spent more time together as a family than glued to a show or the computer. It allowed me the chance to grow up differently than my friends. I fell in love with books and the magical place they took me, and I was often caught reading. I got teased a bit for it later on in life, but I was the bookworm of the class. I read during class, in the hallway, during lunch, on the bus, everywhere. I learned about nature and the world and every topic I could get my hands on, and starting gaining a view on the world.

I can remember the first time I was planning hanging out with a new friend and she told me we were going to her Mom’s house. Divorce had never really affected me or any part of my life, so I didn’t understand—I simply thought that meant her dad wasn’t going to be home while we were hanging out. My life was so different than most of my friends’. As I got older, I got closer to my parents—my mom in particular. While my friends were fighting with their parents, I was confiding in them. Call it crazy if you want, but my mom is my best friend, and I am not ashamed of that. She loves me unconditionally, and I love her the same way.

She’s the person that I want to end up like—she is the best person I know. She always asks me and my siblings to think about how she and Dad have raised us. My mom asks us what we would do the same, and what we would do differently. I wouldn’t change a thing—I couldn’t have been raised better.  I am so blessed to have her, and to experience life with her in it. She pushes me to be better, to think of others, to take less for granted and to forgive even when I’m hurt. I couldn’t ask for a better person, and I would never change my childhood. Maybe that’s what sets me apart—there isn’t a single moment that I would change. Even the rare moments when we fought taught me valuable things. (Mostly that she was always right. And I mean always).

I mentioned that one of my challenges was nerve damage. It happened the summer between tenth and eleventh grade, and it threw me for a bit of a loop. A week after the initial injury, I went off to visit family in Germany. I had broken my ribs once before, and it started out as a second set of breaks, which damaged the nerves and caused two years of extreme pain. It wasn’t until several months after the initial damage that I realized that I was getting worse, not better. My mom and the rest of my family—and my true friends—got me through it. A few people who I thought were friends abandoned me during this time. High school was not the best time of my life, but I learned from it, and I’m happy to say that I’m a better person because of it.

My mom woke me up every morning and told me it would be okay. She took me to over fourteen doctors, sat with me through every painful test they put me through. She was the reason we found a way that I could heal. After being told I would never get better, this was beyond a miracle. But it was during that time that my mom became more than just my mother—she translated from friend and mother, to best friend. I trust her with everything. She got me through the worst time in my life, and helped me appreciate it simultaneously. Even when it hurt to breathe, even when laughter was excruciating, movement brought me to tears, and fabric on my skin was agonizing, she managed to make me appreciate every intake and exhale of air, and every smile that cracked over my lips. She makes my world better. It’s corny and bit of a cliché, but true.

Growing up the way that I did was what allowed me to become the person I want to be. I had amazing role models—I still do. My elder sister developed into one alongside my parents and relatives. I have constant encouragement coming from all aspects of my life. If ever I have a rough day, I can scroll through my contact list, pick out a name, and know that whoever it is will be there to make me smile and laugh again. I am who I am because of the people and experiences in my life, and I hope to only continue moving forward. I can’t imagine a different life for myself—I wouldn’t want it.

As I mentioned earlier, stereotypes never affected me as a young child. Everyone gets labeled as something—it’s just how life works. But it didn’t really strike me as odd, or mean. The blond thing was more of a way to recognize which kid in the classroom I was, and never referred to my intelligence—according to school grades at least. Quoting Einstein, “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” There are plenty of things that I don’t know, but I like to think that I’m pretty smart. Once my last few elementary school years rolled around and middle school happened, I got hit by a few stereotypes. I was the bookworm, the know-it-all with glasses, and the girl who didn’t know nearly enough about fashion. Looking back, I think I was adorable. Some of the kids my age didn’t agree at the time. Again, I had that strong support in my family who told me day in and day out that I was beautiful, and my friends concurred. Maybe it was their job to tell me that, but it was nice hearing it anyway.  

The stereotype of being an American was something I never fully understood, especially as a child. Other than the national anthem each morning, traveling to Canada for summers and other countries for vacations, I had no concept of the difference between places other than climate. I didn’t understand what it meant to be American versus Canadian. And for a long time, I didn’t care. It was a stereotype I received without giving it any acknowledgement.  September 11^th, 2001, allowed me to start to learn about my country, though I was young—a fourth grader who knew very little about the world, and even less about what was going on around her. My book knowledge usually led me into the realm of fantasy, of wild stories that weren’t much related to current events. After that day, the national anthem finally held meaning, and I watched our country go to war to ‘fight the bad guys’. That day changed everything for me, as I am sure it changed for everyone else, and allowed me to start to form my own ideas and concepts about my country and what we stood for. For once, I thought about the pledge of allegiance as I recited it every morning with my class. This all came into play about seven years later, when I made my first out-of-country trip on my own to visit relatives in Germany. The time I spent there allowed me to come back and reflect on what I knew of America, and what I decided I wanted to better understand. I had been planning the trip for about a year and a half, and just a week or so before I was scheduled to leave, I broke my ribs, which resulted in the nerve damage I told you about earlier. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to give up my trip for what I thought was just a few broken bones. Climbing up a several mile walk in the Alps to reach the castle that Disney based theirs off of is just one example of my stubborn refusal to miss out on the trip.

After two planes, four movies, a thrilling ride on the Autobahn and several cups of coffee I arrived in Jetzendorf, Germany. Once there, I saw firsthand that people got a look of disdain on their faces when I mentioned that I was American. Especially the expression on the face of the customs officer when I pronounced the ‘J’ in the town’s name, not knowing it was actually pronounced with a ‘Y’ sound. It was only after I tried a little bit of German and mentioned that I was staying with family that I was accepted among my cousins’ friends and community members.  Though I stayed for almost three straight weeks, it took me a great deal of the first week to earn smiles from anyone but the boys my age.

It was an interesting experience, to say the least. I learned the words kleinen löffel, which means small spoon, gute nacht, which means goodnight, and guten tag, which means good afternoon. These simple phrases—though the spoon was only useful at breakfast when I needed it—allowed me to show others that I was trying, even if my language skills weren’t the best. By finally getting to know the people, I began to learn of their culture and was able to compare it to what I knew of my own. Attempting their culture showed people that I was more than a tourist.

I was surprised that my German cousins knew more about American politics than I did; I had very little to say on the subject, and simply listened as they spoke both of their own country’s history and present state, as well as my own. Family identity was strongly emphasized as well, and I began to learn a little bit about my German roots—including the knowledge that my last name comes from a town in Germany. My great-great-something grandfather was the major, and as such took on the town’s name as his own. My name would have been thirty letters long, not including my middle name or mother’s maiden name. Imagine bubbling that in on a scantron. One of my cousins, a year older than I, was a history fanatic, and taught me about the different castles of her country and all the people who lived there. She spoke German and English fluently and was learning French, which amazed me at age fifteen. I had enough difficulty with learning a second language, let alone a third.

Speaking to my parents about my trip helped me finalize some ideas that had been brewing. I figured out that in most other countries, children are fluent in at least two languages, if not three, and that it is much more beneficial to have that kind of knowledge. I was able to understand just a little better the debates over the Thanksgiving and Christmas tables about politics, and interject a few ideas of my own (especially the idea of being proud to be an American, even if America didn’t always make the best decisions. After all, we’re all only human, right?). Finally, my trip allowed me to start forming better opinions about what I wanted from my country, and what I wanted to put into it.

This trip started my increased interest in my country and the events that were occurring around me that I hadn’t ever taken the time to read about. I was able to identify what I did and didn’t like about current stereotypes, and figure out where I wanted to fit into society. By viewing America from the eyes of others, I could be both critical and forgiving, and gain a wider perspective of both my country and the world around it.

As you probably know, Americans are given hundreds of different stereotypes by other countries, other groups of people, and by themselves. Many of those broad judgments are those of bullies—negative statements that make them feel better about themselves and put others down. Some of the most well-known ones include the dumb blonde, an ignorant or naïve personality, someone who is fat and most likely lazy too, the greedy money-hungry CEO, the lethargic unemployed, and the stupid. There are plenty of others, but this outlines a basic idea of the negative view that many take. We all know someone, or know of someone, who fits into one of those stereotypes. But I believe that people should focus towards the positives—American or not, though it would be my preference that America take on a new stereotype.

Looking at a smaller group of people, the most well-liked person is kind, generous, friendly, and clever. This basic idea is the epitome of what America should strive towards. Instead, we are known for politicians who are pro-war, and who focus on protecting big businesses and not the everyday person. The person that I want to be is who I think America should try to be. Our national anthem is about war; it would be my preference to change it to America the Beautiful, which speaks about what there is to be appreciative of in this country. Starting with the basics is one way to begin a larger change. We don’t need a drinking song about war as our national anthem. Seriously, what kind of message is that?

There are plenty of people who do fit what I believe is the perfect stereotype, and while some are American, these types of people live all over the world. These are the same people who went to Haiti after the earthquake, who donate money to struggling causes, and who visit countries in need of aid, or send money to help. I believe that if the news focused more on the positive—such as the aforementioned instances—that people would start to hold a better connotation with the idea of being American. I know that there were stories written on such events—but they seemed few and far between in comparison to the stories written about the destruction, or the politics that followed.

Nowadays, in order to understand American identities and stereotypes, people must look at the psychology of the mind. So often, people focus on the negative and allow themselves to be oblivious to the wonderful things happening around them. It is easier to use a stereotype about a group of people than it is to take the time to learn about them and understand them.  I believe that people should first look inward before trying to use stereotypes. Most of the time people project what they don’t like about themselves onto others. Furthermore, people rely on the idea of the seven deadly sins (sloth, anger, greed, pride, gluttony, lust, and envy) to define others around them. These are the most basic ideas to pull upon, but almost every stereotype stems from them because they are pointed out throughout history as being the worst part of humanity.

Though the objective of my class was to focus on American identities, I think that it is also important to consider the identities of the rest of the world, because their backgrounds are what add to their views and perceptions of Americans. By better understanding others, we can better understand the flaws of our community and have a hope at correcting them. In general, it would benefit everyone to recognize the seven deadly sins as part of all of our lives, but then to move forward and strive towards including the seven contrasting holy virtues to allow ourselves to improve and become better people. Those are: chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. This goes back to the idea of the perfect stereotype, and what people should focus on moving towards.

I believe that we as a people have to acknowledge both the negative and the positive about our community as a whole, and work on improving the negative instead of using them as stereotypes. Simply pointing out the undesirable does not change anything; it just allows people to vent without taking any true action. I feel that in order to define America as a whole, we have to define the everyday person: imperfect, but trying for something better.

Who Am I or Who Are You?

Miss Dee kicks off this semester's crop of Identification Projects from American Identities!


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Who Am I or Who Are You?

Who am I or who are you? This is a question that Americans rarely think to ask of themselves because we believe we know who we are. If you were to go to the United Kingdom, and they were to ask you where you were from you would say, “America." What if they were to ask you who you were? Would you say, “I’m an American” or would you say something that identified you by region? “I’m from New York," “I’m from California,” you might even say, “oh, I’m a teacher” or “I’m a sales clerk," but what does that mean? What does it mean to be an American?

When I first thought about this question, I thought it would be easy to answer. What came to mind was, I’m a 20-year-old girl who grew up in a small city--you might even call it rural. I have been home schooled since 5th grade and did my first two years of college online. My home life was quiet; I was raised by my mom, my parents got divorced when I was 3, I have a sister who is two years older than I, but these only touch the surface of who I am--there is so much more to me.

We have all learned that sometimes people use ethnic markers to make snap judgments on who a person is: if you’re Asian you must be smart, of Middle Eastern descent, you are Muslim. Are you from India? Then you must be Hindu.  Black? Then you must be from an inner-city poor family. If you are Hispanic, then you must be here illegally, right? If you are white, well, then you must live in a nice house, and own two cars. All of these are stereotypical identifiers that we have used to label ourselves or each other but are they true and do we each have different definitions for identifying our fellow Americans?

One of the ways we identify ourselves is by family and how we are raised. I was raised in a single-parent household. It was just my mom, sister and I; all our extended family on my mom’s side lived in Florida. My dad lives in Kentucky and his family lives in south Florida.This helped shape my identity because I grew up without a lot of people trying to influence my thoughts and ideas. Family stories and traditions were told by my mom but since there was no other family around, we also made our own new traditions. My mom was raised to be a good “Southern lady” by her mother and grandmother; it was important to them that she was taught about her southern roots. My mom wanted to keep that part of the family identity alive so my sister and I were brought up to say, “Yes Ma’am” and “No Ma’am” We called our mom “Mama” and were often reminded that “ladies” act a certain way.

As I’ve learned in this course family can have a major influence on how you identify yourself. In the book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua, we learned that some Asian families have a much different idea on child rearing. In this story, we learned how Chua was trying to raise her daughters to be just like Chinese children who were born and raised in China; the problem was her daughters thought of themselves as Americans not Chinese so there was a constant conflict. From this we see that sometimes people have a hard time letting go of the way their parents might have raised them and when they have children they want to continue those traditions but their children don’t always want to share that identity--they want to make their own.

Think about your own family, are your parents first, second, third or possibly fourth-generation immigrants, did their past influence how they raised you and is your upbringing going to influence how you will or might raise your children? The bigger question might be will your upbringing influence how you see yourself compared to other people in your neighborhood, town, or state? Would you want to make your idea of the American identity the same as everyone else’s--would you change your idea to fit theirs? As our cities and neighborhoods change will we are able to learn to accept all the people who come to live in our little part of the world?

I've grown up in a small town where the residents are mainly white, middle class, and college educated. The people I do meet of diversity are also middle class and college educated. When people use to ask my mother why we left Florida to move back to New York my mom would tell them she wanted her daughters to be raised in the same environment she was raised in. This is where she learned about her identity, and she wanted to expose us to different people without prejudices, so we would learn to base our opinions of people on what they did, not the color of their skin or their religion. Like my mom would say, “The two most important things you can give your children are roots and wings."

There is a disadvantage to growing up in a sheltered environment; I now feel that this has limited my exposure to how other people live. When you look at the world from an idealistic point of view, it makes it harder to understand the lives of people who grew up so different than you. If you grew up in a city, you might see yourself as someone who is more streetwise than someone who grew up on a farm, but does this really cause a change in our American identity? The answer is yes; we are a large county with many unique cultures and where we grew up makes us different in how we see ourselves. I know that when I travel to large cities that have a very diverse population I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the many different cultures. I’m not sure how to feel, all I know is that it isn’t what I’m used to. However, what unites us are our love for freedom and independence and our proud heritages.  That is what everyone has brought to America; these loves are what make as united under a single American identity.

Our ancestors have had a major influence on how we see America and how we have come to call ourselves Americans. Take a moment to think about what that statement is really saying and asking you to think about. “Our ancestors have had a major influence on how we see America and how we have come to call ourselves Americans.” What does that statement mean to you? My great-grandfather grew up in Kentucky, and I’ve been told that when he first met someone he would often ask, “Who are your people?” This is a very telling question because it can be answered in so many ways.

So, let me take a moment to tell you who my people are and what helped create my American identity.  I like to think of myself as a founding American. My mother’s side of the family took two very different paths to come to America. My grandfather’s family, the Williams/Bartow clan, got its footing here by coming as captured Irishmen back when the British forced men to become sailors. These ancestor schanged their name to Williams from Allsworth before the Revolutionary War. After they escaped from British hold they fought to help gain America her independence, many of their descendants have now become Daughters of the Revolution. From the shores of Massachusetts to upstate New York, they settled and raised families who fought in many wars, from the Revolutionary War to the Civil War as Union soldiers to Korea. They were farmers, and railroad men; they were housewives, mothers and partners in this new nation. They traveled west and back east working as forest spudders, and met Buffalo Bill Cody.  I’ve even been told that my distant grandmother’s family came over on the Mayflower and the first woman to set foot on the new land was a relative. 

My mother’s mother side of the family came in through the Carolinas from England. They are the Thomas and Hicks side of the family. They too were farmers and worked the forest.  Some owned slaves; some were dirt poor; some fought the Indians and some married into them. They fought in the Civil War as good Confederate soldiers and died for their beliefs. Some walked the “Trail of Tears,” or so the story goes. They grew and moved from farms to cities and farming to factories. We even have bloodlines to President Polk.

My dad’s side of the family is just as colorful. On his father's side, you can trace his family back to the second settlement at Jamestown, VA. They crossed the state to become farmers and neighbors of President James Madison in Orange, Virginia, then moved on to Kentucky. They were farmers, and tug boat captains. They fought in the Civil War on the Union side and fought in both World Wars. It was a distant relative on my dad’s father’s side, a Houchin, who is credited with finding “Mammoth Cave” in Kentucky.

            On my dad’s mother’s side, you have the Jones, Comb branch:  good strong English names. Again, the families came in through Virginia and farmed and hunted their way across to Kentucky. My great-grandfather Charles Green (Red) Jones owned a mule team and carried supplies over the mountains in Kentucky, married and raised seven children in the coal-mining camps in the hollers of Eastern Kentucky. He was involved in helping form the coal unions and wrote a book entitled Growing up Hard in Harlan County when he was in his sixties. My great-grandmother was unique because she not only graduated high school but also went to college--something that was not normally done in the early 1900s. From these humble roots, my dad’s family grew and changed to leaving the coal mines and become successful businessmen and -women, bringing their families out of the hard life of coal mining and into the safety of business ownership.

Of course, each family has more modern stories to share.  My great uncle has won several Broken Wing awards from the Army for landing disabled aircraft safety. My mom's brother was a long-haul truck driver and rode Harleys. He never went to college but insisted that my sister and I go and instructed my mom that neither my sister nor I should work while in school. He passed away at the age of 45, and my mom has kept her promise to him regarding working and school.

What does this have to do with American identities, you might ask.  Think about your own families, where are they from, what hardships did they endure to bring you to the place you are today? This to me is truly the heart of our collective identity:  the woven stories and history of our families and how they have shaped and changed us to become not only who we are as individuals but who we are as a country.

While you would think that with all that diversity in our collective history and families, we would be more tolerant of the different people who are currently coming to our country, it doesn’t always work that way. Even though we are a nation of immigrants, we still have very strong ideas of who should be a new American. Even my generation is influenced by where we live and how this new influx of people affects us personally. In the northeast in the small city I live in the influx of immigrants haven’t had a large impact on us, but I can’t say this is true for others living in other parts of the country. This influx of immigrants is reshaping our identity, and it is also causing us to stop and think about who we are and where we stand on this difficult issue. Let me give you some personal examples of how some of the different generations look at the new immigrants.

You see, my grandparents live in Florida, my mom’s dad lives in Jacksonville, which is among the 13 largest cities in the United States, and my dad’s parent’s live in Naples, Florida, which is located right outside of one of the biggest-growing areas in south Florida.

When I have visited my dad’s parents in Naples, I am always surprised by the dislike for anyone who is not just like them; by this, I mean anyone who is Hispanic. If you were to believe my grandparents, you would think every Hispanic person in the United States was an illegal immigrant, and that our county is being destroyed by the flood of people coming from South America. My grandparents would like to blame this group of people for “hard-working American” not having jobs. Now I know this isn’t true, and I’ve often thought that I personally won’t want to do the hard work that they do. I don’t want to stand in the sun all day and work for hardly any pay, and I’m grateful that I can go to the store and pick up a tomato or an orange. We need to stop and think, what do these people bring to our country and more important, why don’t we want them to make it their country? Is it because we fear for our jobs? Maybe it's because we are afraid they will change what we see as “our” country, or maybe we are afraid that we will lose our identity. I think that is the biggest reason, fear of losing what we inherently think of as ours. We seem to have forgotten that Mexico owned most of Texas, Arizona and New Mexico before America got those areas in the spoils of war in the Mexican-American War of 1846.

When it comes to my mom’s father, he seems to have a problem with people of Middle Eastern descent. Let me tell you a little about my grandpa:  he moved back to Florida when he was 45 after living in upstate New York from age 26 on; anyway, while living in Florida, he worked as a repair person for a coffee company.  At this job he dealt a lot with small convenience stores, and a lot of these are independently owned by people from the Middle East and Asia.

The problem started because it is common for Middle Eastern culture to haggle for everything and of course in America our prices are set and usually not negotiable. My grandfather took their bartering style and viewed it as them trying to get something for nothing; in his eyes it was not much above stealing. He would get so mad that they would argue over everything he had to charge them for, and I could see where after a while it could begin to feel like you might want them to go back to where it was common to negotiate for everything you purchased. Regardless of how much we tried to explain this to him, he still was set in his ways, and even though it was disturbing to hear him make certain remarks we knew we were not going to be able to change his mind.

I find this common among older people, and I know that some of it is because of who they are and how they were raised, but it is still hard to be around. You would think that knowing their own family's background they would be more tolerant, but for many it was just too long ago for them to remember. Maybe the families had worked hard to elevate themselves to their current status in life and they don’t understand why it’s harder for today's immigrants.  You would think they would want to give this new influx of people a chance. Maybe it’s because we now have more enemies in the world and newcomers are looked at with suspicion. But, what about the Irish or the Germans when they came here?  Weren’t they, too, looked at and thought of as outsiders?  If you look at your family backgrounds, you will probably see that many of your ancestors worked hard to raise themselves up from humble beginnings to where they are today. Don’t you think we should give new immigrants the same chance? The new generation of immigrants has made as many sacrifices to get to this country as most of the earlier generations but many people are still of the mindset that they haven’t paid their dues to be called Americans yet.

When I think of the study of American Identities, I think about learning what it is to be an American. This is not an easy thing to do, because everyone’s identity can be defined in so many ways. It can be defined by where we live, who our ancestors were; it can be defined by our monetary status, the region we live in or grow up in. What I do know is that we are all different, and yet we are all the same: we are Americans.

Now if I were to ask myself the same question as in the beginning of the semester, I would answer it very differently. Who am I? I am a young white woman who was raised in a divorced household. I am lucky because my parents still get along. I have a sister who is two years older and me; both my sister and I are college educated. My mom has been a big influence on me by instilling the love of our own family history. I’ve learned wonderful stories about my family's adventures in early America and have many great family members, who helped shape this country. I've also learned to try to understand where my grandparents get their point of view about who they believe should be considered Americans, and even though I don’t agree with them, I now have the tools to try to help them see my side of the story.

I hope that this makes you want to find out about your families and what makes them and you part of the American Identity. I bet with some questions to grandparents, aunts and uncles as well as parents you will find out that their stories help you better understand who you are and how your family has help create our country’s identity.

Here Come the Identification Projects from Fall 2011's American Identities Course

Over the next several days (and starting tonight), I'll be posting the Identification Projects by the students from this semester's completely-reimagined American Identities course who wanted them to go on the blog.  They'll be getting some extra credit for actually taking their writings public, but much more valuable will be whatever responses you care to offer them in comments!

Identities of America: A Student Blog

Check out Identities of America, a photoblog by one of my students. It's got a fun, sarcastic feel to it, but he's raising some important questions through his conjunctions of text and image.

Us & Them: A Student Music Video Project

Going to be posting more from my students in the next month or so. Here's a music video that was part of a final project by a Ingo Hutzenlaub and Devon Sprague. Enjoy!