10 Apr Adopting America

“Hello, class.” The girl wore a pink cap that hid her face from my view. She spoke loudly, and her voice was coarse. “My name is Katherine, but you can call me Kate. I’m from New Jersey, and ahm, I don’t really know what my major is yet?”

I thought she sounded very American.

It was the first day of classes at Elon University, and the freshman students sat facing the old-school blackboard of the small Composition I classroom. There were not too many of us, 15 at the most, and, after a lengthy opening speech by the Professor, we were now introducing ourselves to the rest of the class. So far, there were three Kates, two Joeys, and two Madisons, all of them from New Jersey.

“Hey, I’m Peter,” The guy in front of me spoke. “I’m from Florida, came here to run away from the heat and I’m majoring in Political Sciences.” You could tell he was from Florida by the bright green shorts. Everyone else was wearing khaki.

The professor, a funny-looking guy with a long silver hair, was now staring at me: your turn. I clenched my fists anxiously and took a quick glance around. My heart was going crazy inside my chest. Most people were not even paying attention, so I breathed in and said it all at once:

“Hi, my name is Julia, and I’m from Brazil.”

Immediately, every single head in the room turned to face me. Some people let out “wows,” then the room fell silent for a few seconds.

“That’s incredible!” The professor cut the quiet before it got too awkward. He looked amused by everyone’s reactions. Then, stared back at me “What the hell are you doing here? So far from home!”

“I…” Stuttered. How do you tell your life story in 30 seconds? “I went to an international high school in Brazil that encouraged me to apply for colleges in the US where I could get a better education. So, I’m here for my Journalism degree.”

I could see why he was so interested. I was probably the only Brazilian in that entire University, and I had been expecting a culture shock. I did not, however, ever think that I would be seen as an outcast. The students were now chatting quietly with each other. A few of them turned to me and asked what language I spoke and what Brazil was like. At the end of the class, the girl with the pink hat spun on her heels to give me a long look.

“I’m surprised your English is so good!” She said, but not with a smile, and strode off.

I had huge expectations about coming to the US. I pictured pompons, singing, friends, and a dramatic romance. But as the first weeks went by, reality slowly sank in. I realized that the American dream was not the fantastical experience I had been daydreaming. And as I did, a cavernous hole started gaping inside my stomach.

The thing about culture is that you take it for granted until it hits you in the face. You don’t acknowledge it until you’re faced with something completely different from what you had always known. You only begin to understand it when no one around understands you. And when you do, it’s a game changer. I was born and raised in a very vibrant country, rich with warm-hearted people who say hi with a hug and three kisses, take their time for everything – no pressure – and who measure effort over results. We’re generally humble, overly generous, fearless optimists and collectivists: family and friends come first, after all, they are our foundation.

Of course, none of these were evident to me during those first few months in college. I struggled to keep pace with the English, I didn’t get most of the jokes people threw at me, and I couldn’t make friends. The girls in my class were quick to form groups, and even though I tried, I never felt like I connected with their conversations and concerns. They talked about things I had never experienced, like how the homecoming parties were nothing like the frat parties and had shared interests that stemmed from the way they were brought up: baseball, country music, Macy’s.

They, in turn, thought of me as something exotic. Some loved to ask me the boldest questions about the world I came from whereas others smirked at me like I had something stuck to my forehead. Wherever I went on campus, I was known as “the Brazilian,” and to me that was demeaning.

I was sitting in the cafeteria one afternoon, thinking about home and how I missed my grandma’s food when a short girl approached me. She was holding books and her long, brown hair cascaded to her waist.

“Hi, are you Julia?” She smiled. “My name is Suad, I saw you on the Facebook group for the school’s international students. Can I sit?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course.”

She giggled. “I saw you from the door, and I really wanted to meet you because I’m also international and I think we gotta stick together, you know? I’m from Kuwait.”

We spent that afternoon pouring out our feelings to one another. We also had very few shared experiences, but at that moment, we realized we also had much in common.

Suad became my best friend in that school and, in a way, her support helped me understand that I was not to blame. Culture was. My background defined who I was but did not limit me to discover new ways of thinking.

“We can’t judge the girls here for not understanding that the entire world doesn’t think like them. We gotta learn how they think, and then we can show them how we think.” Suad argued once.

And she was right.

My first year abroad taught me more than just to appreciate the differences; it taught me to understand them. And as a result, I ended up learning more about my own culture than ever before. Gradually, I stopped missing it. I ceased from desperately trying to find it everywhere and, as I let go of that Brazilian pride, I began to understand the girls in my class. I did not share their values or tastes, but I welcomed them and eventually even started to enjoy them.

After one year, I decided to transfer out of Elon. Despite my new-found ability to relate to people, I still felt trapped in an environment with no room to grow. Not because of the university, but because of its lack of diversity. I understood then that I first needed to adapt to the new environment to be able to take bigger steps. I felt empowered, and now I wanted to take advantage of my opportunity by seeing more things, meeting more people, challenging myself more. Miami was perhaps the obvious choice, and it gave me the chance to continue discovering how very little I know.