It was Spring of 2003. I was studying in Italy; the United States had just entered the war with Iraq. Huge protests descended down upon Rome, reminiscent of those against the killing of George Floyd of late. The war had invaded every conversation, and folks were really angry at America. There were talks about whether it was safe as an American out on the streets or traveling to nearby countries, about whether the next flash point was most likely to be Turkey or Egypt. It was a daily discussion in class, where even CNN came to interview our opinion upon the war as American students abroad. I hadn’t yet been able to form an independent point of view. But rather than being afraid, I was thrilled to witness history unfolding before me, feeling like I was actually a part of it.
Whenever I returned to visit Vietnam, folks would ask me about racism in America. I think buried behind this question was how it affected me as an Asian person, a Vietnamese person. The whole world watched when Rodney King was beaten by the Los Angeles police. But in a bus in Rome, I also saw an old woman screaming at two Chinese girls for speaking Chinese with each other. On the ferry from Athens to Santorini, an old man asked me whether I was a labor immigrant. When I told him that I was just visiting, I could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe me. On the bridges over the Tiber River of Rome, I saw African immigrants selling fake designer purses, knowing that there was no hope for them to be integrated into Italian society in a meaningful way. To be Italian meant to have a certain skin color and facial features, and there was no way around it. If I have learned anything, just because it is not talked about does not mean it does not exist.
There seemed to be a love-hate relationship, swaddling resentment, between the United States and the rest of the world. America was like a boisterous, if also immature, teenage boy with loads of money. Wherever he went, everyone was watching and trying to guess where he may go next. Yet the majority of Americans do not travel nearly as often as their counterparts from the developed world. Envious are those who see that you’re the center of attention, yet barely aware of their existence.
American culture has invaded every corner of the globe, and it terrifies the older generations that they may lose their own cultures and identities. A young French person may have a croissant for breakfast, but they will eat lunch at McDonald while listening to rap music performed by French artists, but originated from America. The Koreans have propelled their popularity onto the international stage through K-Pop, a blend of breakdancing, also originated from America, and pop music studded with Korean cuteness and sensibility. Seen from this side of the Atlantic, the rest of the world is culturally appropriating America, specifically Black America. Perhaps to the younger generations of the world, it speaks of rebellion and change, of optimism and hope.
I once hosted a friend visiting the United States. While driving her around, there was a group of bikers passing by with their music and engines roaring all the same. She was over the moon to witness this parade. It was her vision of America, and what she was here to see. For me, it is fast food in the car while watching a movie being played at the ballpark. In the BBC series In America, Stephen Fry described a football game between the University of Alabama and Auburn University to be preposterous, incredibly laughable, impressive, charming, ridiculous, expensive, overpopulated, wonderful, and American. Nowhere else on earth will there be another local college game decorated with a few teams of cheerleaders, a full-blown marching band, a few F-16 Fighting Falcons, and the Air National Guard.
Within the last 100 years, the United States has hardly passed by a single decade without being involved in a major war. War and racism – they are perpetual human conditions, and if we ever hope to rise above them, they need to be brought to light and be discussed. To love something – it’s not about the best or despite the worst. You love it for all that it is, and hope for a better future by being a part of it.
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