The experience of being an American student in Canada comes with its own baggage, especially in the aftermath of Election Day.
On Nov. 6, I went to a language exchange event in the city. Each person had to put on two flag stickers: one for their target language’s country and the other for their country of origin.
So on the day after Donald Trump was declared president, I spent the evening with an American flag stuck to my chest.
During my years here, most people have initially assumed that I’m Canadian. The mask only comes down when the innocent question is posed: “Where are you from?” The flag on my chest elicited numerous follow-ups: Why are you here? Wow, isn’t your country a mess? Did you vote for him?
The event shoved my Americanness into a frightening spotlight. It was a literal sign pinned to my body. Suddenly, I was no longer a person but America incarnate, a puppet made to field everyone’s jokes and sympathies.
I had never felt more embarrassed to be from the United States. When my origins were exposed, so was my inner shame.
The more I reflected afterwards, the more I realized how deep it went. As it turned out, I was definitely not alone.
Nearly one-fourth of Concordia students are international as of last academic year, and all have unique backgrounds and struggles. I’m not claiming my problems are worse than everyone else’s. I only want to share mine and others’ experiences.
After election week, I spoke to a couple fellow Concordians studying here from the United States. A second-year student from Pennsylvania, Samantha Wakeman, commented on the “immediate stigma.”
“After they know, people perceive me a bit differently,” she told me. “They ask questions.”
Her friend Emma Vigneault, who grew up in Massachusetts and Colorado, had similar experiences.
“Someone said to me once, ‘You must be stupid.’ There’s definitely a stereotype,” she shared.
Their friends have fortunately been supportive post-election. What struck me, though, was that all three of us used the word shame to describe how we felt.
Now more than ever, Americans in Canada experience the duality of being both removed from the drama yet still at its center.
We watch the trainwreck from afar knowing it’s our train.
But being American doesn’t have to be shameful nor a condition to escape from. We can feel upset about what’s happening and recognize that we aren’t responsible for it as individuals. In our reprieve from our country’s chaos, we can still uphold our own values.
If there’s one way Canadians can help, it’s to respect us in these turbulent times. We feel everything as deeply as you do. We’re all just trying our best like everyone else.
