The English Maximalista

It has been over thirty years since I first stepped foot on American soil. In the Summer of 1994, I was a naïve 19-year old, eyes wide open to this massive country. Everything Stateside looked enormous to my parochial mind: my only real comparison was the small midland town in England, where I was born and bred. 

Sure, I had traveled around Europe and Africa before my first trip to the States, but nothing there prepared me for the billboards and skyscrapers of New York and Chicago — they totally blew my tiny little mind! I was soon humbled by the sheer size of these cities, which were my first taste of America. 

Then I moved to the suburbs, which were much quieter but even so, everything there seemed that much bigger than in England. Cars. Houses. Refrigerators. Portion sizes. Grocery stores. American roads are much wider than in Europe, and literally stretch for thousands of miles. 

Even American robins are bigger than English ones!

I remember driving around the Midwest, shortly after my arrival, and seeing lots of signs which read, “Make Your IRA Payments Here!” I was absolutely horrified that the Irish Republican Army — who were considered a terrorist organization to many Europeans, at that time — were blatantly allowed to solicit funding.

It wasn’t until some months later that I learned what an Individual Retirement Account was… talk about feeling relieved!

Some of my childish misconceptions about Americans were quickly dismissed, such as those stereotypical tropes which are endemic across English television, or casually thrown about down the local pub. Many Europeans maintain an unfair idea that Americans are all loud, stupid, and vulgar, when they absolutely are not. 

In fact, if one wants to see loud, stupid, and vulgar individuals, I invite you to visit ANY English High Street on a Saturday lunchtime: guaranteed, there will be several for your inspection. You won’t be able to miss them.

Another convenient lie that Europeans tell themselves about America is that there isn’t any history here. Often, this sentiment is cleverly disguised by saying, “it [the US] is such a young country.” What I think they must mean is that the European influence is young. As for history, well, any educated European will understand that the Native Americans had 15,000 years of history and culture, before White Man almost obliterated it.

Other misconceptions took some time for me to accept for what they were — MISconceptions — because of my own intellectual limitations: but first of all, I had to recognize them, which was half the battle.

For instance, despite the widely held ideal that America is an equal society for all, and a prevailing American pride at not having a monarchy, believe me when I tell you there IS snobbery here, and there IS a social hierarchy. The 1% live like Kings in their gilded, gated communities… and a quarter of the remaining population aspire to be like them.

Which is just like elsewhere, I suppose.

Systemic racism is all around us, and there is rabid inequity, whether people accept it or not.

I shall never forget the time a Brahmin-type woman snapped at me, “WE don’t have a class system in THIS country.” Said with a completely straight face. I am still in shock at her sincerity — and venom! — 25-years later!

Even though I have lived here permanently for thirty years, every so often I get told (or hear other foreigners being told), “if you don’t like it, go back to where you came from“. Which is just about THE most ignorant thing I have ever heard in my life… don’t EVEN get me started!

The day I became a US Citizen was one of the most meaningful days of my life. I am genuinely proud to be a citizen of this beautiful country, which is populated by many amazing people (citizens and non-citizens alike).

But I shall never forget that I am one of the lucky ones: I came here of my own volition. I speak the language fluently. I am college educated. I have managed to create a comfortable, middle class life for myself in my beloved adopted country.

I am supremely grateful for this.

Seldom does a week pass without a friendly stranger remarking to me that they like my accent. If only I had a dollar for every time I was asked where my accent was from. I could have bought a new handbag… from Chanel!

Whenever I go back to England, my friends and family never fail to remark at how American I sound to them. Which is incredibly ironic to someone who has to speak with a fake American accent whenever I’m at the drive-through, because the person on the other end can’t understand my thick English accent!

Lots of love,

M xo

A couple of books I recommend:

I’m a Stranger Here Myself, by Bill Bryson

The Anglo Files, by Sarah Lyall

Quick Glossary:

Chips = Fries

Crisps = Chips

CV = Resumé

Fag = Cigarette

First floor = Second floor

Ground floor = First floor

Hoover = Vacuum

Lift = Elevator

Loo = Bathroom

Pavement = Sidewalk

Plaster = Band-aid

Rubber = Eraser

Condom = Rubber

Tissue = Kleenex