The Land Far, Far Away
America used to be a land far, far away. My childhood and teenage years were riddled with the myth and folklore of America. The ever-present red Solo cup, the intense patriotism, the extra-large lifestyle. I am from the Philippines, but I grew up in Dubai. Most of my friends were European, Asian, Arab, or African, but hardly American. Although American culture was everywhere, to my friends and I, the USA was just a country we saw on the news, talked about for a couple of minutes, and then moved on from. Maybe even made a few jokes at the expense of it. Likewise, my family rarely discussed politics – whereas Americans literally pin their political opinions on their chests. America was a land far, far away. A place too foreign to me, too alien from the land I grew up in – too American.
On a different note, as college application season started, I’d be lying if I said my whole graduating class didn’t have “Top Schools for [insert desired major]” in their search histories. It was also hard to find a senior who didn’t plan to apply to at least one American school, in spite of not knowing a lot about America. I wanted to get into TV and film, and everyone is primed to think of Hollywood when they hear film. Everyone, even me. And where is Hollywood? The States, the Land of Opportunity. I wanted the fairytale of the red carpet, the glamorous Hollywood legends, the magic of the flashing lights. For aspiring filmmakers like myself, America was just the natural next step forward. But even before my first semester at Syracuse had ended, the myths and folklore that I grew up with were already being challenged.
Witnessing the November 2016 elections made me realize that this country was beyond the allure of Hollywood’s tales. Growing up in an apolitical household, there was something so moving about being in a dorm with hundreds of Americans who cared so deeply about the wellbeing of their country. On election night, I saw tears roll down the cheeks of my neighbors for people they didn’t even know. People used their emotions as weapons as they fought about the fate of their America in the corridors of Flint Hall. Friendships were forged and broken as sentiments were revealed about issues that aren’t typically discussed. Some Americans took these elections as a beckon to fight for their country even harder; others treated them as personal victories. It was after this when I realized that one of the myths of the USA was not a myth at all. The patriotism that was injected in the American folklore is real. It is what causes this country to be at its best and at its worst. That whole week dispelled the mystique of America. I saw the campus at its rawest. I was given a peek into what it was like to be American, and it is not entirely made of the red Solo cup or the extra-large lifestyle. Being American is made of the Americans’ love and, in some cases, hate for their country’s legacy. This earthquake of an experience forced me to appreciate America for what it really is. And when I did, I knew exactly why this country had its myths and folklore.
America used to be a land far, far away. A place too foreign to me, too alien from the land I grew up in – too American. Its history is marked by injustices and prejudices. The people here are aware of this. Coming from a place where people don’t know, or even care about the inequalities, I can see why its easy to overlook them for the more attractive parts of America. At least I know why I did. I learned that these realities disturb millions of lives. Even if it took falling for a myth just to realize them, I am glad that I did.