I write this final blog with a heavy heart, as I am back in the states. Rome hooked itself deep into my soul and made me feel freer and more at home than I had in a while. I made so many friends in Rome, had an internship that was more satisfying and fulfilling than any job I’ve ever had here, lived a more active and happy life, and fell in love. Leaving all of that has made the holiday season difficult, and I struggle to be present with my friends and family here, though I am getting there slowly.
Reflecting back on this past semester, I see even more how much identity impacts the way we experience the world. I am not sure how to write this blog without criticizing the country from where my passport is from. The truth is, my experience was heavily influenced by my own experiences of racism here in the USA compared to my experience in Europe. I am aware of the race issues in Europe, but they manifested differently for me.
I was lucky enough to have a diverse identity that made it easier for me to be open to this experience and quickly feel at home. Some of my program classmates did not find this so easy. Some actually stubbornly held on to their identities from home and brought their own prejudices, which, at times, were unleashed on me. That stung. It stung and it pushed me even farther into creating relationships with the people living in Rome, rather than staying glued to those in my program. With my friends in Rome, I was never made to feel small for who I am, because we all came from different places, and we all spoke so many languages. My identity in the states is a disadvantage but an advantage virtually everywhere else. To people in Europe, I was never the stereotypical “American abroad student.” To them I was a Mexican student, bringing as much culture to Rome as I was absorbing. I was invited everywhere, from coffee to karaoke parties. It was easy, because this culture was so similar to the way I was raised: kiss your friends on the cheek, speak your mind openly, drink espresso, message through audio messages rather than text, say buen provecho to people eating (In Italy buon appetito). It was refreshing to be around so many people that moved in the world like I do.
In the states, the dialogue around my identity gets to me. I am not me in the states, because I sometimes feel I need to hide. I am shy, too polite, I stay quiet about my opinions. I need to be small, invisible, undetected. In Rome, I was alive and seen. That is the impact of identity.