“Where are you from?”
“England, originally.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here now.”
“Well you better learn how to talk then.”
“Ermmmm…..”
That’s a real conversation. It really happened earlier today. I know. Hard to believe, isn’t it? The worst part is, I know I have it easier than most. I’m white, educated, and, well…I speak English. But I have had conversations similar to this one more times than I can count in the space of the seven years I’ve lived in another country.
Here’s a few more interesting snippets of conversation I’ve been asked on the topic of my immigration:
“Did you come here for the healthcare?”
Because clearly, socialised healthcare is basically a death sentence.
“Oh, you’re one of those commie b*******s?”
Communism, Socialism, it’s all the same to me. Right?
“Wait…you’re not a US citizen? But you MARRIED an American….”
Yes, yes I did. However, simply marrying an American does not automatically entitle you to citizenship. I am at the point now where I can apply for citizenship, and I will, soon. And when I get it, there will be a big party, with eagles and freedom and all the stars and stripes. But it takes time and money to get, it takes jumping through a few hoops, the scanning of your irises and recording of your fingerprints.
“It’s the immigrants that are ruining this country…well, I don’t mean you, Sally….”
That’s my favourite.
I am 100% an immigrant. You can’t separate me from that discussion. I’m refusing to assimilate too, in my own way. I don’t eat Hershey bars, I really hate peanut butter, and I don’t really find Saturday Night Live funny. Don’t get me wrong though, I think illegal immigration is an entirely different matter. It’s against the law, it damages the labour market, gives people false hope, treats them like a piece of poo and destroys families. But, dear America, and I think I can say this because I do love America, how about you remember your roots? I remember them all too well. Being a Pilgrim for 40 hours a week really brings it home. A nation of immigrants built on the great sacrifices of the forefathers, a melting pot bringing many cultures together in one place, isn’t that part of what makes America so great?
I like to think I’m continuing this legacy in some small way. One day, perhaps, my children will laugh at the tales I tell them of my childhood. They’ll tell their children that their mum used to do it this way, or that way, because she’s English. REALLY English. Doesn’t that make our horizons broader, our gene pool deeper and our understanding of the world clearer?
Maybe that’s an exaggeration.
a pilgrim's lot 
We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile.
Frightening!
This used to happen to me back when I was an immigrant,especially the smack talk about other immigrants in font of me.
Lauren had been through the exact same thing here in England. There’s a lot more racism than I realised before, thinly disguised as being anti-immigration.
Strangely, she’s never had “did you come here for the healthcare?”, though, despite it being one of the best things about living here and political parties talking about the (non-existent) problem of “healthcare tourism”.