as amity was chatting on the phone to her family back in the states after the game, i was exploring her bookshelves, and stumbled across a book i’d been meaning to read for ages: “watching the english”, by kate fox. it’s a book that’s often spoken of amongst expats as an anthropological study on the unique customs and social mores of the english – recommended reading by way of imparting some insight. i’d never gotten around to picking it up, but was flipping through the pages last night and found myself intrigued enough to borrow it.
and though i am only about 50 pages in, i’m finding it really depressing. you see, after living and working here for 4 years now, i kind of felt that i’d achieved some semblance of integration. that i’d been around long enough not to stand out like a sore thumb. god help me, people back in the states even say i’ve picked up some british inflection to my words (not to mention adopted much of the vocabulary and spelling quite early on – a byproduct of needing to communicate clearly and write lots of reports for my job). i’ve never consciously set out to try to assimilate, but it’s only natural that after a certain period of time a lot of stuff has rubbed off on me. i’ve never deliberately set out to “fit in”. but i’d hoped that i did, just a little.
and now those hopes have been thoroughly dashed. the author’s insights and explorations of the “unwritten rules” of english society are so precisely accurate, yet so convoluted, that i despair of ever really hoping to successfully navigate them. so much of what i find intensely frustrating about being an outsider is a product of societal law so deeply ingrained, yet so unspoken, that a culture clash with my personality and modus operandi is inevitable. one must never appear too eager. one must never reveal too much. one must never openly disagree. one must never be overly informal or overly friendly. i can learn these rules, but i’ll never be able to live them.
but if i’m honest, none of this is news to me. in work situations, i find myself constantly trying to modulate between being too outspoken, and not piping up enough. i chime in at the wrong times, create awkward silences, inadvertently step on toes. i’m constantly second guessing myself and trying to tone it down, where “it” is my normal forthright manner of speaking/thinking/doing. i’m ever conscious of trying not to come across as the stereotypical “brash american”, but chafing inside at not being able to just be myself, no matter how others interpret that. i vacillate between trying to break free of the preconceptions that come with my accent, and just saying “fuck it – this is who i am. accept it.”
and in the end, i’m realising none of it really matters. that the way i come across won’t ever change much, because there’s a finite limit to how much *i* can change. or more accurately, i’m realising there’s a limit to how much i’m *willing* to change. i will never understand the mustn’t grumble ethos, even in the face of valid cause for complaint. i will never understand the national reservedness, or the impulse to conform at all cost. i refuse to buy into the class distinctions, and i will most likely never be able to distinguish a posh accent from a blue-collar one. it took me years to find confidence and assertiveness, and ditch the meek, awkward person i was until i hit my mid-20s. why on earth would i want to give that up just to blend in?
still, it’s discouraging to see people wince when i’m in a meeting and say something too bluntly. it’s disheartening to try to make friends yet not be able to break through the wall of reserve of people i otherwise really like. to know that no matter how regularly i say “toe-mahh-toe” people will still hear my accent and draw conclusions about me. all the studying in the world won’t get me past those obstacles, and they may never even get any better, no matter how long i am here. i just don’t know the rules. i’m not being a rebel, just a naif.
i can watch the english, observe the customs, study the rules – but it seems i’ll never learn.
song of the day: Califone – The Orchids
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british customs