Syd ’29 ponders the diverse factors which help define American identity and asks the question: who gets to tell our story?
During our trip to DC, we sought to answer the question of what it truly meant to be an American and who gets to tell our story. Our trip started with me and 8 other students taking the Deerfield shuttles to the train that would take us to DC. As we boarded the train, Natalia and I struggled to find 2 seats that were directly next to each other. When we did find one, they were 4 seats all facing each other and crammed together. Our 9-hour journey started uncomfortably, to say the least. Deea Anna, Natalia, and I all tangled together by the legs with strangers. Of course, the first question that we pondered on our journey was what the same words mean in different languages, which quickly diverged into a deep conversation about food. Natalia and I shared many similar experiences as people who live in the States, while Deea and Anna shared their similar experiences as international students. We talked about how food plays an integral part in American culture, things like Auntie Annie’s being a big core memory for many American children. We talked about this and circled back to this conversation many times. During the trip, we talked a little bit about 9/11 and how that helped shape the American identity. We talked about the many repercussions and how growing up during this time changed American culture forever. It just so happened that there was a 9/11 survivor on the train who overheard our conversation. He shared a little bit of his experience. He also mentioned how grateful he was for people our age to be talking about 9/11. By the end of the trip, we all shared the sentiment that the seats that we had been crammed into for 9 hours felt just a bit less crammed. Although the space hadn’t changed, we had gotten closer, which I think is an amazing first representation of one of America’s core values–community.
Half of one of our days was spent exploring Georgetown. It was extremely cold and windy, but we braved the cold for the love of the game. As I froze my fingers off in the cold, walking around as the self-appointed navigator, I pondered another question of our trip: who gets to tell our story? As the others shopped, Leelah and I walked to the nearby Boba spot. The boba place was boxed in by these amazingly vibrant buildings and below a restaurant that served ramen and beer. Once we had ordered our ice cream and boba, I looked for other things to do as we had time to burn. As I explored the shops in the area, I found a saree shop. And although it was closed by the time we got there, it made me think about all the different people in America. As a democratic nation, the people tell the story and get to choose how we tell our story. This trip showed our groups all the different intersections of the American experience. We all had the opportunity to come together as people of varying ethnic backgrounds, life experiences, immigration experiences, and cultural experiences to see that the American experience varies from person to person, but we are the ones in charge of the narrative. The more unique experiences and even the similar ones that people in America have and share are what create a story that truly reflects who we were in the past, who we will be in the future, and who we are now as a nation.
