At the end of my first day at Elon University as a freshman a year ago, I had a stark realization: there’s something seriously wrong with my English.
After all, most of my professors that day had a question about it. Why is your accent so great if you’re from Nepal? Where did you learn English?
While I came to understand these queries came from a good place, I was suddenly hit by a wave of questions about my identity that I had never thought to ask myself.
International students face a dilemma of having to maneuver through genuine curiosity and genuine ignorance. The difference between the two is clear. To employ a “Mean Girls” reference, the latter makes me Cady Heron and you Karen Smith, except that Gretchen Wieners isn’t there to say, “Oh my God, Karen. You can’t just ask people why they’re white.”
No, I don’t speak “Indian.” Nobody in the world does, for that matter. What kind of music do I listen to? Well, Drake. Yes, I’ve heard of him. Oh, you moved three chairs down to see if I could pronounce this foreign word? Sorry, Nepalese people speak “Nepali,” not Arabic. What am I? I don’t know, because I’m not an object.
Other internationals have shared their frustration around certain “types” of questions too: Yes, you can be considered international if your parents are from the States. I grew up overseas, so that’s still part of my identity, right? I appreciate your concern for me not wearing a “headscarf,” but not all Muslims wear a hijab. Before you paint a picture about how “relieved I must feel to be in the United States,” please note I love my country.
Why ask questions if you’ve already summed a person up? If preconceived notions guide your questions in the first place, the odds of really getting to know me are little to none.
We love answering questions and educating when we can, but not when questions are constructed in a way that makes us feel like we’re supposed to be super-cultural aliens who have quirky traditions for your entertainment.
We love genuine curiosity, especially when it’s funneled through comfortable space, admittance of ignorance and careful thought. And trust me, we can tell if your questions come from there.
For a while, I started telling students I was from “the D.C. area.” I felt like whipping out the “international card” would deter people from really getting to know me because they would either be afraid of offending me or they would place me in a box where the only thing they’d ever talk to me about was where I was from.
Ask questions, but think about them first. When you’re done, get to know the people you’re talking to rather than only focusing on the country they represent, because their story consists of more than that.
There’s an unwritten expectation from the university for internationals to adopt ambassador roles and serve as one of the living, breathing forms of Elon’s “commitment to diversity and global engagement.”
It has changed me. Somewhere in my journey to educate and inform those with genuine curiosity about where I am from, I lost myself. Being Nepali is one part of me, but when you only put one of your identity hats on, you start to forget about the stockpile of other vibrant headgear that play equally important roles in defining you.
It’s not only about being international, but also about being part of the “other” on this campus — whatever that “other” is.
When you’re an outlier, the superimposed identity conferred on you tends to be in battle with the other identities you hold. It becomes more apparent that you are not American, foreign, white, brown, black, rich, straight, affiliated or whatever it is you don’t identify as.
Our attention to otherness is clear in the way we form groups on this campus. Most of us choose to stick with people who share that otherness because we are so obsessed with the notion of it.
But because I was solely latching on to what made me different, I found it impossible to relate to anybody.
I’m Leena, and I’m from Nepal. But that’s not all. I also collect currencies and love to read autobiographies. My Instagram is on fire. Nicki Minaj is my homegirl, and I have a weird obsession with owls. Oh, and I practice occasional sassiness.
So let people tell their story, but don’t assign one to them. And to the “others,” don’t let being different identify you. Identity is fluid, multifaceted and ever-changing. Take time to celebrate who you are rather than only focusing on what sets you apart.