But I’m American…
I. The Institution.
Parisians are a very traditional population slow to change, opting to relish the antique and original configuration of things. Part of the Paris charm is its relationship to its historical origins, Roman influences, Gothic architecture, and notable constructions from the Middle Ages — much of which has been preserved, restored, and intact. This charm is interrupted by any modern inclusion or contradictory ideology that uproots and disrupts the natural order. In 1981, President François Mitterrand enacted many changes that were met with uproar and outcry. The inclusion of the glass pyramids at the Louvre, a beloved addition in the 21st century, was despised by many during the President’s audacious proposal. The plan was initially presented as a solution to the surge in tourism overflooding the original entrances. The pyramid provided crystal-clear entrances that descended into the lobby. Its location is in front of Jardin des Tuileries, Paris’s garden that leads to the foyer of Le Louvre. Despite resistance from much of the country, Mitterand proceeded with the erection of the Pyramide du Louvre. In 1988, four years after the plan was presented to the public, the divisive project was complete.
Modernists and innovators are met with resistance in many fields of specialty. Ambitious architectural innovation within Paris is frowned upon to this day, but that has not stopped enigmatic minds from proposing and altering the landscape of the culture for generations to come. Tour Montparnasse stands 210m from the ground. Many locals have regarded its namesake as “the eyesore.” It was Paris’s largest skyscraper for nearly 38 years — much to the dismay of the perturbed Parisians. A joke amongst Parisians is that the best view of Paris is above Tour Montparnasse’s Observatory because you do not have to see the obtrusive atrocity of the irregular building. It is bronze in a city of nudes and neutrals, soft tone stone, subtle brick, whites, and tans. It stands out like a sore thumb. For ten days, during my short tenure in Paris, it was my introduction to the city I would soon call home.
I was born in America on October 12, 1996, but I only became American 18 years later. My fate signed his name on the dotted line and committed my being to the longest contract I would be intertwined with — outside of school. I did not know time, but I knew myself, I knew I would need a catalyst to begin my independent life. I considered the many possibilities available to an average suburban kid who just finished High School. I did not qualify for scholarships, I hadn’t the mind for Ivy League, the shape for modeling, or the personality for YouTube. I was an imaginative juggernaut of dreams and wanderlust who hadn’t the fuel to achieve his wildest dreams. I knew if I wanted to achieve anything noteworthy in my adult life, I would need to do something so radically contradictory to my nature. A few months after staring into my room after graduation, I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps.
My voice was timid the first few days of Bootcamp, but I quickly learned to play the part I was assigned to the best of my abilities. This convoluted statement for me was an excuse to remain as undetectable as possible during training. There was only one problem, I was horrible at all things discipline, punctuality, and hyper-masculine. My nature throughout High School was docile and bashful. I carried the weight of insecurity in my backpack and traded smiles for friendships. I was careful not to say too much and became comfortable throwing myself into my creative projects. Math, science, history, and English, became assignments in which I would create elaborate displays of art. My colorful pens were used on every assignment, I spent more time decorating the pages of homework than making an effort to understand the work. This skill was extremely helpful during my transition to an American soldier. I would be the most decorated Marine.
My mom did not take the news well, I had given her several heart palpitations during my adolescence and most of my young adult life. She heard Marine and immediately thought of war. I did not seek out the Marines, a few do, but most are hand-selected by the most persistent and charming recruit-collectors. I remember the phone call, to this day I wonder where I would be had I been more persistent in my disposition. “Is this Wilfred?” Indeed it was, may I ask who is calling? “Gunnery Sergeant Bruffy. I wanted to ask you about your future.” An open-ended question; he was good. “My future?” Yes, what are your goals and aspirations? I sifted through my thoughts, many had asked the question. It is the only question children ages 16–17 1/2 are asked. All anyone wants to know is, how will you care for yourself? When will you begin contributing to society? In what capacity? Many iterations of this question fell on me. Eager eyes were met with disappointment at my travel dreams. “Yes, but how? How will you travel to these places? You need money.” I hadn’t the answers or the wherewithal to answer such invasive questions, but Gunnery Sergeant seemed genuinely interested. I remember answering my Counselor’s question with an equal amount of fervor and trust in myself. I was only 16, but with all the conviction I could muster I answered her by saying, “I want to travel the world, in my van, creating documentaries of the world.” I was an AV Video Production kid, it was less of an enigma in this sphere. My class was filled with dreamers and creators.
I always felt like an outsider, from youth, I was much different than my peers I tried desperately to appease. I thought differently, and slower; my extended processing time made me a target for district-wide tests. I was the guy who would utilize the entire day to finish. I took several breaks throughout the testing cycle to draw, data dump my brain, and enter each question at my fullest availability. This worked, I was slow but tested successfully on tests without time constraints. This was not the case, however, for SAT or ACT. When it came time for college, university time constraints prevented me from completing tests like I had become accustomed to. I scored embarrassingly low on both tests, however, my ASVAB score was decent enough for the Marine Corps. On August 20, 2015, I signed a contract that would change the course of my young adult life.
American Exceptionalism
In 1835, French nobleman, Alexis du Tocqueville published, “Democracy in America.” He is attributed as the first writer to denote America as exceptional. His book was written after a year-long expedition of the sociological landscape of the country. During his visit, he noticed, that Americans, unlike their European counterparts were able to pursue monetary advancement of status regardless of title or family name. Migrants to America left behind the dogma of the Catholic Church and monarchy. This created a vacuum in traditional ideological pretenses, which prompted the opportunity for accessible advancement not based on the feudal hierarchy system (Exceptionalism, Zachary McKinster 1). American values were influenced by economic prowess and freedom practiced through Protestant worship. Protestantism enabled common people to shift their line of access directly to God. The act of enabling believers with individual access to the Highest Power of the Universe had a profound impact on the provisions, resources, and information made available to the masses. By removing hierarchical barriers to access the Kingdom of God and prosperity, the new narrative enabled individual liberty and the ability to be self-reliant.
As many immigrants fled from Europe, the conglomeration and mixing of ideas and religious practices created a new culture among the American settlers. Identity shifted as country lines expanded, relationships to the environment altered, and the prospect of individual freedom permeated. Over time, the word citizen became increasingly ideological, encompassing a theology that was stronger than creed, race, sexuality, or gender. To be born in America is to be born with the belief that the ideals of the country, created by the Constitution, are for the benefit of its people. American Scholar Donald Peace compiles a modern-day definition of exceptionalism in his book “The New American Exceptionalism,” as, “the lack of feudal hierarchies, class conflicts, and divisive ideological conflicts…[where] a predominantly middle class [majority can aspire towards] upward mobility, [practices a] tolerance for diversity, [through] shared Constitutional faith.” (Critical Genealogy of the Fantasy, Peace 8) The American Constitution guarantees the liberties of its nation to naturalized citizens. As an American citizen, one has the opportunity to change their predicament. The early settlers pioneered a document that would showcase a new nation intent on revolutionizing the accessibility of change and equality. As the cultural needs of a society change, so does the availability of freedom. Individual liberties are constantly influenced and reinterpreted. The diversification of a voting class, representative of the nation is the basis of American democracy.
My voice comes out as a whisper if I am comfortable, I shove words together like kids on a public school bus, mumbling at times to not disturb the phrases of my mind from their slumber. I was generally quite quiet in my meditative years, preferring to express myself in my drawings or literature. My voice came through as a song or melody with strong emotion and soft delivery. I listened to the keys of the piano, melodramatic teen angst, and questioned the world I lived in, my existence, and purpose. As my “ship off” date became closer and closer, I waned off thoughts of insecurity of uncertainty with friends and new experiences. The date was August 20, 2015, after I signed my contract, I went back to school to finish my first semester of Community College. My life moved in a direction, and for this momentum, I was very grateful. I had an answer for inquirers about my life and the security of my future, I was a student (and a Marine enlistee). That last title never made it past my lips, I was not embarrassed of who I might become as much as I was scared of him. I did not know if the future events I had in store would shift the operating functionality of my brain, how I spoke, how I loved myself. I did not like myself very much at 18, however, the contract I signed would require me to alter him, strengthen him, for the love of my country.
I spent Christmas with my family that year. By that time, everyone was pleased with my decision, to be stronger, better, and serve my country. It is a very noble investment. My grandmother confided to my mother. My aunt was all smiles. I was the firstborn son/grandson/nephew, and my destiny was bright. I ate another slice of cake and sat next to my cousins, they could not hide their dumbfounded grim. You?! Yes, me, and why not me? Sure I hadn’t the wits or muscle for physical activity of any kind. I had been the comedic relief of my family, the self-proclaimed pacifist who would never hit back. I was vegetarian and soft-spoken, and in exactly one week, I would be on a crowded bus of men with their heads down. The time, late, dark, I can’t remember. We were told not to say a word. I was selected to begin my Bootcamp training earlier than expected. It was protocol. My mom cried with me, silently. I fell in line, stood on the yellow footprints, and saw myself on the island of Marines, in a world abstinent of peace, logic, reasoning, civility, television, or cellphones.
II. Dismantling The Structure.
Immigration
The intermixing of people from different ideological backgrounds reshapes the liberties available for a nation of diversity to coexist. It is necessary to redefine social provisions to encourage a more equitable society. American immigration has provided the country with profit and security. The modern-day narratives juxtapose this theory with pleas to innovate how and who we let into the fabric of the American nation. It is now necessary to dismantle the predispositions associated with nationalism, by providing numbers of the immigrant population in America and their economic and social contribution to society. For this article, I will rely on Quantitative Data found on the U.S. Department of Homeland Security’s website. I will subsequently leave social theories and qualitative research for the article’s conclusion. Furthermore, it should be noted that the collection of immigrant data will include outliers in both strata misconstruing the data’s readability. To address this, I will reference several additional sources outside of the information found in the Department of Homeland Security. For the sake of brevity, I have divided the immigrant contribution to America into the following subsections: economic and political contribution, and their subsequent effects on metropolitan America — specifically New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles.
Economic Contribution
The DHS produces yearly compilation diaries entitled, Yearbook of Immigration Statistics, detailing the migrant population’s contribution to America in numbers. The publication’s most recent edition is 2021’s Yearbook. According to its reports, 740,002 migrants entered the country in 2021. The largest migrant population is within the Americas, constituting 41% of total immigrants into America in 2021. Asian immigrants follow closely behind, with the largest demographic being Indian and Southeast Asians making America home. Of the 740,002 legal immigrants admitted into the United States in 2021, over half of the population were married women over the age of 21. According to the DHS Office of Immigration, the highest occupation division for women was non-employed students [or dependents]. The second-largest occupation for women over the age of 21 was management and professional specialties. Married men over the age of 21, occupied the professional management sector at higher ratios, followed closely by non-employed students and identified [dependents].
Political Contribution
Judiciary involvement in non-citizen apprehensions in 2021, constitutes 1,865,379 arrests. More than 84% of the arrests took place on the border of Mexico-America. The enterprise of the border crisis has cost countless lives and has led to senseless deaths in border cities which bear the greatest casualty tolls. Mexico, Honduras, Guatemala, Ecuador, and El Salvador are the highest-reported instances experiencing legal action. Immigrants tend to settle noticeably in metropolitan areas. New York consistently ranks the highest in immigrant-worker influx.
Bootcamp was an entirely new world. Vastly different than my upbringing. I interpreted the events happening around me as a settler in a new land. I learned different ways of behaving as I adapted to the conventionality of its culture. I sang as I was told, ate what I was given, and tried to stay out of trouble. Learning the language of aggression was the most difficult task I had in acclimating. I hadn’t a clue how to muster the fortitude within myself to speak in such course manners. I got away from ridicule by screaming as I was asked. The society within MCRD San Diego is a rather loud one. If one disembarks the landing strip in the Californian sun on any given day, you are bound to hear the tortured Marine recruits in the flux of the city’s vibrancy. The stark contrast provided the basis for how I would engage with foreign societies to come. I did not come to change a destination, but to have the land change and influence me. I was going into Bootcamp to become a new person. After several years of chiseling away at the force that would become my backbone and voice, I was able to take on any challenge.
I flew to Paris, leaving behind all I had accumulated in the ten years after High School. My timeline is composed of several milestones over that ten-year plane ride into my future in Paris, France. The military is a large point in the hypothetical timeline; my first relationship, heartbreak, going abroad the firstsecondandthird time, living abroad, my cross-country American expedition, co-hosting a podcast with my best friend, and the many instances in which I lost myself in the process. It feels small as I levitate off the ground. In my coach seat, I reflect on who I was able to cultivate through this collection of events. I wore a shell and watched it wear away with each chip of my armor, I reveled in my true colors. Not at first, I was quite ashamed of how I have fallen short. In each of the aforementioned milestones, I gave myself to each. I became the chameleon I needed to be to better my environment, by first understanding who it is, I learned who I am.
Paris Syndrome
I was first introduced to the term by a dear friend of mine who has been instrumental in my transition from American traveler, to Parisian in training. Ken, a Taiwanese professor and extraordinaire, sold everything he had to begin a new life in Paris, France. He expressed to me his initial high hopes for a country with laurels in art, history, and architecture.
Paris Syndrome is the disillusionment experienced by many visitors, who admit that Paris is not what they expected. The. psychological disconnect from expectation and reality has been so conflicting, it has led some to physiological revulsions. As of 2023, Paris is still the most visited city in the entire world. Experiencing more than 44 million people a year, post-COVID-19 pandemic. Many institutions sell their ideology to a myriad of hopeful prospects in search of something viable and true. Western society imbues a belief of superior distinctiveness into the nations they support, strengthening their influence. This unmet expectation of nirvana is further explored in Psychiatria Polska’s analysis of the [Paris Syndrome] (a case report — The Second Department of Psychiatry of Institute).
III. Starting Over.
I would begin again in Paris as I had to eight years earlier in MCRD San Diego, California, in order to accomplish my ambitions of achieving an independent life. The prospect of starting again in an environment different from your upbringing, starkly contrasts your ways of being in such a specific way you are forced to look inwards. Introspection is not a friend of mine, but it visits me from time to time. It says to me, that the self I am running from has followed me for the last decade. Despite hiding in camouflage, it has always found me. While I cultivated new habits, language, and cultural skills, it reminded me of who I truly am. I feel so much stronger in myself the more I leave my upbringing to pursue a higher calling. It is funny because the process is quite cyclical. I am not leaving my old self behind, it is my old self that I am becoming more of.
Paris has given me more than it has taken, and it has taken a lot from me. The cross I bear weighs 50 kilograms, it is blue and holds a week’s worth of clothes, a month's worth of toiletry essentials, my laptop, and a journal. I am also privy to the relationships that are strained by my most recent life decisions. It has led me into a spiral of exclusion. I am not exceptional in my pursuit of life endeavors. It is true, yes, that my path is unique. When I decided to make Paris my home, I floated between several houses throughout the city of Paris. Each provided me with their own Parisian sanctuary. I saw the drug Paris, the social Paris, party Paris, chill Paris, take-a-drink-at-the-local-bar Paris, watch-a-rugby-match-at-a-pub Paris, posh Paris, struggling Paris, old Paris, new Paris, ethnic Paris. In each experience, I gave a bit of myself to become more available to the natives I was sharing space with. I tried on Parises like identities or career paths. I hadn't a clue about how I would create my own, I only knew I wanted to be exactly where I was. Floating in between the obtrusity that had become my reality.
