In the Spring of 2006, on a crowded bus in Florence, Italy, I learned that I was not simply an American.
In the Spring of 2006, on a crowded bus in Florence, Italy, I learned that I was not simply an American.
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According to the curious Pakistani-Italian man sitting beside me I was "a different kind of American". I tried telling him that I was born and raised in the United States. I paid my taxes there, was educated there, worked there - heck, I planned to spend the rest of my life there - but, apparently that wasn't enough proof for him. I looked too much like the female, Senegalese immigrants he saw in the streets of urban Italy and not quite like the fair-skinned, television actors he was used to seeing on imported American television shows. Even my American accent must have gone in one ear of his and out the other because he was not having it. I was DIFFERENT and he wasn't dropping the conversation until I admitted it.
I gave in.
I divulged the entire story of how my parents emigrated from Nigeria, met in college, got married, had me, and then decided to settle in the United States. In his Pakistani-Italian accent, the gentleman said, "Ah, you see? You are not an American!" When I got off the bus, I was stunned at having gone through such a thought-provoking encounter in a country known for art, not psychology. Walking down the street, I remembered the shop owner who spoke Italian with a Chinese accent (fascinating, right?) and the Mexican man who pushed large delivery crates. A few weeks later, I would travel to Napoli to do some shoe shopping and find TONS more immigrants, living, working, driving, playing, in a city conveniently located by the Mediterranean sea. I wondered, "Who were these people? Were they Italians? Hyphenated Italians? Who determines their "label"? I don't know how they do it in Italy, but in America...
Needless to say, I was flustered when I left that bus. Thank God my "flustered-ness" settled down to "concern" and, as I flew back to the States with a stop in London's Heathrow Airport, my concern turned into...REVELATION.
A 3-hour layover in London was the sweetest part to the last leg of my journey because it was there that I saw the most incredible convergence of people from all over the world - even behind the clerk's counters! Each clerk was of a different race and I marveled as they all spoke to their customers with strong and confident British accents. Wow. The revelation hit as I took a seat in the airport's lounge area. There was no clear wording for it. No amount of hyphenation could suffice and it was heavier than my overstuffed carry-on. (I wish to extend a kind thank you to the understanding agents at Aeroporto di Firenze.)
I was a different kind of American.
And it was not the end of the world. Rather, it was the beginning of a new one: where many people's ethnicities (or previous nationalities) wouldn't necessarily correlate with their present nationalities.
As I mature into a full-fledged adult at the end of the first decade of the 21st century, I am proud of a new form of consciousness about my identity. However, I find that it is constantly being challenged and re-envisioned - both by myself and the people with whom I interact.
Watching a flower bloom (or experiencing an identity un-fold) is a perplexing thing...and quite beautiful.
Mutiyat Ade-Salu is a Nigerian- American singer and actress who currently resides in New York City. This article was originally published at mutiyatspeaks.blogspot.com on December 3, 2010.
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