I always find it ironic that in both your country and mine, the only people who can stand up and say that they are not decended from immigrants are the native populations, and yet neither population is seen as being either truly American or truly Australian. That belongs to those of us who happen to be born white.
Yet there is also this odd reaction among white folk when they hear that I may be decended from Pocahontas. They look at my high cheekbones, my long straight dark hair, and my hazel eyes that the unobservant often "dismiss" as brown, nod sagely, tell me I "look Indian" and view me as more American! I have a good laugh, because this is sheer snobbery. An ancestor of mine claimed the descent from Pocahontas to prove his bona fides as an eligible for membership in the First Families of Virginia to my ancestress, whom he was courting, and her family (they were eligibles). We think he was lying. My college roomie, who is a full-blooded Navaho does not get viewed as more American for saying that. It makes her exotic, almost foreign.
Some of my ancestors came over on the Mayflower. Others were indeed among the first settlers of Virginia. Some were the first white settlers of Virgina. I am no more American than my paternal grandfather (a naturalized American born in Canada) or my stepfather (a naturalized American born in Palestine). That's the point of citizenship.
Still, I have yet to be pulled out of line for "random extra screening" at the airport. This was a common experience for my little sister born here to citizens, who had an Arabic first and last name, and a Middle Eastern look. That is until she married and took her husband's German last name. Now she cruises through. My other sister, who also has an Arabic first and last name has never been pulled out. She takes more after the Northern European side of the family, and yet is a full sister to the other sister. So much so that she was sitting in the teacher's lounge and another teacher went on a rant about the "filthy A-rabs" that live in the apartment next to her. She smiled sweetly, and said "My name is ArabicFirstName ArabicLastName, and I'm an Arab. I have excellent personal hygiene. It runs in the family."
My mother (in her 70's) has a friend of her own age, born to American-born parents, and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. Her name is, and always has been, Jane. Because her ancestry is Chinese, she gets asked where she is from. "Phoenix, Arizona" is the only answer she will give. "No!" they say. "Where are you from?" She continues politely and firmly with her (true) answer. She gives a small stiff smile. Usually folks get the point, but if they are especially obtuse, she will ask them where they are from. From there the conversation can go many ways, depending on her whim of the day.
"Oh, really? Ireland? But you don't have an accent... Oh. Three generations. Kind of like my family."
"Ah. I've been to San Francisco once. I prefer Phoenix. It's drier."
"I don't have any ancestors from that far west, but my daughter lived in California for six years."
Honestly. People who make assumptions about you or judge you for your genetically determined appearance (in contrast, say, to a choice to forgo clothing for woad, or go adopt an Amish dress code) or your food choices (I used to love dim sum before I had diabetic and heart considerations that forbad it, and I'm a WASP) and not by your words and actions are lazy-minded jerks, and don't deserve kid glove treatment, especially if you have tried to warn them off politely!
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Yet there is also this odd reaction among white folk when they hear that I may be decended from Pocahontas. They look at my high cheekbones, my long straight dark hair, and my hazel eyes that the unobservant often "dismiss" as brown, nod sagely, tell me I "look Indian" and view me as more American! I have a good laugh, because this is sheer snobbery. An ancestor of mine claimed the descent from Pocahontas to prove his bona fides as an eligible for membership in the First Families of Virginia to my ancestress, whom he was courting, and her family (they were eligibles). We think he was lying. My college roomie, who is a full-blooded Navaho does not get viewed as more American for saying that. It makes her exotic, almost foreign.
Some of my ancestors came over on the Mayflower. Others were indeed among the first settlers of Virginia. Some were the first white settlers of Virgina. I am no more American than my paternal grandfather (a naturalized American born in Canada) or my stepfather (a naturalized American born in Palestine). That's the point of citizenship.
Still, I have yet to be pulled out of line for "random extra screening" at the airport. This was a common experience for my little sister born here to citizens, who had an Arabic first and last name, and a Middle Eastern look. That is until she married and took her husband's German last name. Now she cruises through. My other sister, who also has an Arabic first and last name has never been pulled out. She takes more after the Northern European side of the family, and yet is a full sister to the other sister. So much so that she was sitting in the teacher's lounge and another teacher went on a rant about the "filthy A-rabs" that live in the apartment next to her. She smiled sweetly, and said "My name is ArabicFirstName ArabicLastName, and I'm an Arab. I have excellent personal hygiene. It runs in the family."
My mother (in her 70's) has a friend of her own age, born to American-born parents, and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. Her name is, and always has been, Jane. Because her ancestry is Chinese, she gets asked where she is from. "Phoenix, Arizona" is the only answer she will give. "No!" they say. "Where are you from?" She continues politely and firmly with her (true) answer. She gives a small stiff smile. Usually folks get the point, but if they are especially obtuse, she will ask them where they are from. From there the conversation can go many ways, depending on her whim of the day.
"Oh, really? Ireland? But you don't have an accent... Oh. Three generations. Kind of like my family."
"Ah. I've been to San Francisco once. I prefer Phoenix. It's drier."
"I don't have any ancestors from that far west, but my daughter lived in California for six years."
Honestly. People who make assumptions about you or judge you for your genetically determined appearance (in contrast, say, to a choice to forgo clothing for woad, or go adopt an Amish dress code) or your food choices (I used to love dim sum before I had diabetic and heart considerations that forbad it, and I'm a WASP) and not by your words and actions are lazy-minded jerks, and don't deserve kid glove treatment, especially if you have tried to warn them off politely!