Study Abroad - page 4

Since 2006, Goucher College has required all undergraduate students to study abroad. Last year marks the tenth anniversary for the shift in campus experience, now a significant selling point for the college. But what does it mean to label ourselves “Number One in Study Abroad”? How does that translate to our everyday campus life?
Calla Fuqua (’18) believes, “Study abroad is one of the main reasons people go here. They see it’s required. That sticks out.” There is by no means, a be-all-end-all easy explanation for the role study abroad plays on our campus. More than anything, perhaps there needs to be a larger conversation about why it exists and what that means for each member of the Goucher community. As Fuqua said, it makes us stick out. But what dynamic does that create on campus?
The Goucher undergraduate population is over 1,400 students. Of the population, we interviewed eight students who have different relationships with study abroad – those who have not yet gone, those who are currently abroad, those who have recently returned and are in their first semester back, and those who have been back for a bit longer and are currently in their second + semester back.
A.J. Bhadai (’18) explains, “It’s [study abroad] a major cultural importance for our small community. Everyone is exiting the United States and entering new communities and new cultures and everyone has different interactions and experiences.” If study abroad is a large part of our Goucher identity and, to some extent, a significant part of our personal journey through college, how do we, as a community, want to engage with this part of our self?
Laura Williams (’17) put it nicely by saying, “It [study abroad] served me as a way to take what I had learned at Goucher and either apply it in a different context, or build upon it.” There is an interconnection between time at Goucher before study abroad, the time abroad, and the time returning to Goucher, jumping into the world beyond our undergraduate experience. Jess Solomon (‘18) mentions, “Study abroad was very important to me at Goucher, as I felt it was important to leave ‘the bubble’.”
Solomon raises an incredibly intriguing tension by referencing the “Goucher Bubble”. The bubble implies different realities for different people and generally implies a sense of insulation. What’s insulating about Goucher, in light of the travel each student is required to partake in? Sam Goldberg, a philosophy major and creative writing minor, suggested that the requirement of study abroad brings to light the union of “here” and “there.” In other words, the “there” of different ideas and places is brought very close to the “here” of Goucher. Do our experiences abroad lead to the sensation that Goucher is only one facet of a much larger world of meaning spanning the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual spectrum of possibility? Are we left in limbo of recognizing “here” and “there” but never quite being sure where we are?
Erin Snyder (‘17) also mentioned the Goucher bubble, saying, “It’s hard because people don’t talk about it [study abroad]. I see it as a way to get us out of the Goucher bubble…I love Goucher but you get so immersed in it, in the bubble – it’s [study abroad] a breath of air.”
Study abroad also serves as what Williams calls “a mental vacation”. Andrew Rowland (‘18) also mentioned this idea, saying that many students may look to study abroad as a space for “limited obligation”.
These ideas seem to imply a value of refreshing one’s mindset. Are our mindsets refreshed when we return from abroad? Rowland thinks some people believe it’s supposed to be a life-changing experience, while Solomon mentioned that before going abroad, she heard from upperclassmen “how transformative it was for them”. Do we want to bring to light the change people undergo and the meaning behind “a life changing experience” ?  Midori Fujitani (’17) states, “I think the biggest thing that students get is diverse perspectives by going to countries they’ve never been to.”
Do these changes in perspective come from a change in the pace of life we’re used to, as a shift from our norm? As Williams put it, “Study abroad as a concept has been a role model in the sense it normalizes being different.” Back to the question of the role of study abroad, Emma Minkoff (‘17) reflected that upon returning to Goucher from her time abroad, she now thinks about Goucher differently. Her experience deeply contrasts her Goucher pace of life. But once back, it’s easy to brush over the experience and the transition of returning to Goucher. How many times have we asked, “How was it?”, and left it at that?
Snyder states, “Its [study abroad’s] role is to push you out of your comfort zone when you get comfortable or too comfortable – it pushes you to learn a little more – it gives you a larger sense of responsibility as a person and as a person navigating the world. So you don’t move through the world and not know your impact.” Williams also speaks to this point, saying, “Traveling to a different context and being able to function there and make something of myself inspires me to go out and have the confidence to make something of myself wherever I go.”
If study abroad means to push us out of our comfort zone, then the role it plays is a force both brutal and transformative. But do we have the language to speak about it? It takes a larger conversation to discuss something so personal, so broad, so fundamentally a part of our campus and yet paradoxically distant from the time we spend here. It deserves a larger conversation; we want to be a part of it, and we want you to speak up too.
This article is not to prove a point; this article is to say this is messy to talk about. Let this be a brainstorm, an attempt to weave our voices together. But upon returning to school next semester, we want to invite you to workshopping sessions in order to articulate our goals as students who study abroad.
More information to come but in the meantime: Have questions? Want to talk? Contact me at majoh007@mail.goucher.edu .

MEG JOHN & ANNA YOUNG

Madeline St. John, News Editor

February 15th, 2017

I never thought more about what it means to “be American” than I did while abroad this past semester.

American.

What identity, what history, what stories are bottled up in this word?

We define everything in relationship to other things. Upon leaving a place in which characteristics of one’s identity are normal, average, or constantly affirmed, one begins to question and examine that identity more closely.

This happened to me when I came to Goucher and I suddenly became “someone from Hawaii.” In Hawaii, my birthplace was not worth mentioning (Obviously). At Goucher, however, and even more so in Argentina, it suddenly became an object of conversation. I began to think about what it meant to “be from Hawaii.” (What does it mean to be from a state that some still don’t know is a state?)

In Argentina, more or less the same thing occurred, as a citizen of the United States. In Argentina, as foreign students, we became objects of curiosity: ambassadors, representatives of our nation, people to whom questions about Trump and walls with Mexico could be posed.

I didn’t really mind being an object of curiosity. It led to interesting conversations. And I certainly couldn’t resent it as I realized the feeling was mutual. To a certain extent, Argentinians were interesting to me purely because they were Argentinian.

With the presidential elections at the forefront of many minds, this “American” question was riddled with political implication. What did it mean to be part of a country in which Trump was a presidential candidate? What was underlying those words, “Make America Great Again”? And then, later in the semester: what does it mean to belong to a country in which Trump had been elected president?

Several of my Argentinian friends, who would have been on the far left of our U.S. political spectrum, asked me to explain to them the psychology of the Trump supporter. When I began to think seriously about this, I began myself to understand better what people were thinking when they voted for Trump. While I do not support the man, his politics or actions, I could begin to learn about the people who did.

I realized through these conversations, that perhaps I had more in common with the average Argentinian youth than I did with many Americans, especially white Americans in rural areas. Perhaps we do not have to go very far geographically to experience a “culture shock.”

What does it mean to be “American”?

Sometimes this question brought up race. Most Argentinians I met—before I opened my mouth—assumed I was Argentinian. This was a privilege not afforded to my blonder, paler, or more Asian-appearing classmates, who were immediately pegged as foreigners. It was sometimes assumed the blondes were from Germany, the Asian Americans from China. Watching people try to guess nationality based on race, I couldn’t help thinking about the stereotype of the “white American,” often perpetuated by Hollywood and the media, as so many U.S. citizens are not “white.” (Also, “whiteness” is a social construct. However, that’s a discussion for another time.)

Sometimes, reflection on “Americanness” led to thoughts about privilege. There are buzzwords out there, like “globalization.” Another similar word is “Americanization.” As a Goucher friend, Lea Lovemore, pointed out, Americans are privileged when they go abroad to see so much “Americanness.” McDonalds. Walmart. KFC. Hollywood. Uber. Amazon. Facebook. The list goes on. American culture and business, tied to American influence, is truly global.

Notably, however, was that many of the material things that American students on our program missed the most were not things typically thought of as “American.” We talked a lot about Chinese restaurants, Mexican food, German chocolate, and sushi (which does demonstrate our socioeconomic privilege, in being able to eat out and eat a variety of food). Clearly, being “American” has nothing to do with eating hot dogs and hamburgers.

What does it mean to be “American”?

Despite what some might think, it has nothing to do with being white, Anglo-Saxon, or protestant. Neither does it seem to signify having any particular set of beliefs, values, economic status, religion, or an acceptance of these differences in others.

Does it mean being a descendent of immigrants? No, because there were people here for centuries before Columbus or Amerigo Vespucci. Our Argentinian culture professor discussed the desire to dispel the myth that “Argentinians came from ships.” This myth propelled another—that Argentina was a country without indigenous populations, populations which in reality been nearly wiped out by land-greedy government campaigns. I reflected on the utopic “melting pot” image of the early United States, and, in the face of the North Dakota pipeline protests, how we often ignore our own indigenous populations.

What about the equation America=Democracy? Being a U.S. Citizen means a vote, right? But what about selective voter-ID laws, limited access to the polls, and changed registration procedures, all of which can take away that “right”? And even amongst those who do have a vote, strategic gerrymandering can arrange things so those votes don’t really count.

Convicted felons can’t vote. And with policies like the “war on drugs” and “stop and frisk” justifying racist policing in predominantly black communities and leading to the mass incarceration of African Americans, a large percentage of the U.S. population has become systematically disenfranchised. According to The Sentencing Project, in 2014, one in every 13 blacks was unable to vote because of a felony conviction.

Perhaps we can uphold the ideal of democracy in the United States. Perhaps it can be upheld to those on the outside, looking in. But what would one say to those numerous Latin American countries, in which the U.S. actively supported military dictatorships through Operation Condor?

What does it mean to be “American”?

It is a highly flawed question, as long as it assumes “Americanness” to be associated with the United States. This word usage, which, as you may have noticed, I have been using this entire time, understandably bothers many of those, including Argentinians, who are American but not from the U.S.A. From Canada to Argentina, citizens of all countries in South, Central, and North America are Americans, too. (And don’t forget the islands!)

So, what does it mean to be American? Having moved through these possible answers, does the truth come out that is there really nothing more to “Americanness” than being born, or moving, to a certain side of the world? Are we left with emptiness instead of identity? A meaningless name? A worthless denomination?

Or can we define ourselves by our diversity? Can we own our history of colonialism and acknowledge our racial and social hierarchies? Can we be people of mixed race, culture, gender, sexual orientation, origin, class, political and religious beliefs? Can we be people of revolutions, past and present? Can we see our human and hemispheric sameness, and build an identity that celebrates difference rather than similarity?

Answer: Yes. In many ways, we already are.