We’ve all heard that “you don’t know what you have until you lose it” and that “distance makes the heart grow fonder,” two expressions that come to mind when I consider how my travels have affected my identity. I left for Jordan seeking perspective and an appreciation for a different culture than my own, and I found them, but I also found a better understanding of and deeper appreciation for my own culture. I’ve never felt more American than on the day of my return.
While in Jordan, I would adjust the identity I presented to people I met and observed the different reactions I received; I was a Venezuelan of Spanish origin, an American of Venezuelan origin, just an American, just a Spaniard, just a Venezuela, a Catholic, a Protestant, a student of Islam, an atheist, a lost soul, a student, a tourist, and a backpacker. I presented many different combinations of these, and this experimentation somehow allowed me to subconsciously consider who I really am. I learned a lot in Jordan and Emirates about the Arab idea of identity: people identify with their family’s ethnic origin, not their individual one. I met many cab drivers who responded “I’m Palestinian” when I asked them “where are you from?”As these conversations continued, though, I was surprised that many of them hadn’t ever set foot in Palestine. I found the same phenomenon with waiters born in Jordan of Egyptian parents; they identified purely as “Egyptian,” even though they were born, raised, lived in, and worked in Jordan–even their manner of speaking was Jordanian! This seemed odd to me.
I was born and raised in Venezuela, but have a Spanish passport, which I inherited from my paternal grandfather. At the same time, I live and study in the U.S. It seems fair for me to say I am either Venezuelan or American, since I have been a part of both communities intimately and have been absorbed into the culture. I don’t feel I could ever claim, however, that I am a Spaniard. I inherited some linguistic tendencies and many a delicious recipe from my grandparents, but I haven’t lived in Spain a day in my life, nor do I know many Spaniards, nor do I observe any of her festivals or holidays. I am not arguing that the Arab concept of identity or origin is either correct or incorrect, appropriate or not; I am pointing out that it was strange to me and different than my view on the subject.
The academic curriculum as well as my interactions with people in Jordan actually brought to light many things I now see as shortcomings of American society and culture. Counter-intuitively, though, I grew closer to my American identity as a result, feeling as though I had a better understanding of my culture and could, therefore, love it so much more. Being in Jordan was almost a test for cultural practices that are so commonplace here that one rarely thinks twice about what they mean. We often value materials (e.g. money) and ideas (e.g. time) more than people; we generally focus on the achievements and failures of the individual rather than the collective; and we are used to the idea of living subordinate to written rules and that there is always a prescribed way to do something. Before I left, this was just the way life works; now I see them as a value structure with implications on the way our society functions and how it interacts with other societies. I learned to see these (non-exhaustive) examples of the differences between U.S. culture and Arab (Jordanian) culture and had the opportunity to ask myself if I agreed with these values: are they in line with my own? Should any society arrange values thusly? What are the implications of this structure? I arrived at mixed answers, finding that I align with a lot of the values American society prioritizes, but that I do not align with others. I am now able to see things about my culture that I don’t like–which I may have been blind or oblivious to before–but the fact that I see them and I know they exist makes me more comfortable with my culture.
As the program progressed, my answer to the almost perfunctory “where are you from?” changed from “I’m from America but I am from Venezuelan origin” to “I’m American, but my parents are Venezuelan” to simply “I’m from America” during the last few weeks (disclaimer: I prefer referring to my country as “The United States,” since I don’t like appropriating the name of the whole continent for my purposes, but Jordanians refer to the U.S. as “America” in every day speech, so I tried to talk the talk). I returned with a better understandings of my country’s deficiencies, but also of its strengths and (relative) points of excellence. I have a reaffirmed (not that it ever wavered) commitment to finish my time and Rollins and move on to apply myself to the collective effort of preserving and protecting my beloved, if imperfect, home.