Happy New Year

Happy new year to you all! My deepest apologies for not putting any entries up lately. We went to Pakistan for an extended winter vacation (see picture above of me getting henna on my hands!), then returned to Damascus and undertook the overwhelming task of moving to a new apartment. Trust me, several new entries are slowly forming in my head, and now it's just a matter of sitting in front of my computer long enough to turn these loose ends into something half-palatable.



In the mean time, here is a little essay that was published in the Middlebury Campus (my college's student newspaper) about a month ago - hope you all enjoy!

Overseas Briefing

After two months of living in Damascus, I don’t think I can comfortably say that my study abroad experience is “awesome!”. I had these crazy notions that living in a foreign country would be a mind-blowing experience in which I, through making many Arab friends and using my finely-honed language skills, would carve a comfy niche into Syrian society and gain a profound understanding of the Middle East.

Well, I’ve made a couple of really close buddies and my Arabic has definitely improved, but the rest of my checklist remains blank. Bizarrely enough, what I have gained is a deeper understanding of my own culture. Prior to leaving the United States, I was always convinced that we were a nation without real values and traditions tying us together. Given our current foreign policies, as a high school and college student I was even embarrassed to call myself an American (although fear not, for I never went so far as to threaten moving to Canada).

Being thrown into a new society, however, is like having a giant flashlight shined on your insides. Every interaction that I have here elicits an immediate reassessment of my own background and what I consider to be “normal” or “right”. What does it mean when a man declines to shake my hand because he considers it improper to touch women other than his wife? How can I explain to a Syrian that we don’t really consider the phrase “that sucks” to be a swear word, in spite of its derogatory connotations? Why do I find it weird to stick a beef patty, french fries, cole slaw, and a sunny-side-up egg in a bun and call it a “hamburger? Why do they find it weird that I wanted to learn how Muslims pray without actually converting to Islam?

Most of the people that I’ve met here are curious about the United States, but many have a hard time accepting that the “western” lifestyle has any real benefit to it. Sometimes I find myself defending the craziest things, if only for the sake of showing people that there is more than one valid way to live in this world. When Arabs here criticize the moral decay of American society, I throw on some words about cultural relativism and the right to live as you personally see fit, and end up arguing for pre-marital sex and abortion (these solutions don’t usually fly in Syrian society). Another time my land-lady helpfully explained to me that Jews are the source of all wars in the world. I in return ended up defending America’s support of Israel, a stance never adopted by me before, as yet another player in the bloody game of power politics that affects this entire region and leaves no one blameless.

I was never a staunch supporter on either side of these issues back in the United States, but mostly because I never really had to think about them – they were just kind of always, well, there. Now that they’re being called into question every day, I feel the need to embrace them simply because they make up my background. My heritage, my identity, my understanding of the world - these facets of Lizz-ness are constantly brought to mind when contrasted with what is in front of me. For the first time in my life, I’m actually pleased with what I see. I’ll admit, the United States has some weird identity complexes (a secular country that recalls God on its currency? Half-naked pop stars claiming to be the proprietors of virginity?), and without a doubt our foreign policy needs to be seriously reevaluated before we lose all credibility on the international level. Yet in spite of these drawbacks, I am finally proud to call myself “American”. All it took was leaving the country for me to realize it . . .