Kentucky Fried :)

Let me tell you about the state of minority affairs in France – It begins and ends with Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Yes, the American-based restaurant that serves fried chicken, macaroni & cheese, mashed potatoes, and everything else considered “wholesome american food” on a fast-food budget. Now, let me tell you how this relates to the politics in France.

Stopped on the unlit metro due to a man running freely across the tracks (apparently this happens quite often lol), my roommate and I were trying desperately to decipher the message coming over the intercom when a man sitting next to us saw our troubling situation and gave us the interpretations we really needed.

Seeing that he was pretty friendly, we striked up a conversation.

• Where are you from?
• France
• (seeing that he was black, we decided to probe further) No, where is your family from?
• Here, in Paris
• But you’re black, so where is your family ORIGINALLY from?
• Oh, Nigeria
• lol Okay, that’s what we meant. So, we’re really interested in hearing about black people in France – how do you think African and black relations are here?
• Oh, they’re fine
• REALLY? That’s interesting
• I mean, there are little things here and there, but it’s fine. I am happy.
• Well in America, things aren’t so great. Sometimes when we walk into stores, the clerk will follow us around because she thinks we will steal something. It makes us mad that people are judging us based on the color of our skin. Has that ever happened to you?
• Oh, yes, a lot. People think I will steal because of the color of my skin.
• And that doesn’t bother you?
• I mean, it is bad, but that is how things are. They will get better.
• How many black elected officials do you have in the country?
• None.
• Doesn’t that bother you? Do you think it’s a problem?
• Not really.
• What is the economic status of blacks here?
• Huh?
• Well in America, black people are at every level of income. We have a lot of lower middle class, but quite large numbers are upper middle class and wealthy too. Like Oprah.
• Oh no blacks here are poor/lower middle class.
• (getting frustrated slightly by this conversation and his OBVIOUS lack of concern, we decided to switch to something more entertaining, like food) So do you know of any good African or Caribbean restaurants in the area? We’re really looking for some good food.
• No, there aren’t any.
• So how do you get food like fried chicken, goat, plaintains, etc?
• I cook it all myself. I’m a good cook.
• Oh, then you should open up your own restaurant! Since there aren’t that many around, I’m sure you’ll make lots of money! Speaking of which, we haven’t seen any black-owned businesses in the city – do they even exist?
• No, not really.
• Wow.
• But if you want African food, there is a KFC in Paris.
• (at that, we exploded with laughter)

As you can see, apparently KFC is the answer to it all. The fact that so many Africans and Caribbeans live in the city of Paris, but none own businesses, none hold elected offices, most are at the low end of the economic spectrum, and seemingly MANY are incredibly apathetic to their plight as French citizens.

Granted, it must feel good to regard the color of your skin as simply that – the color of your skin. To not have to acknowledge that within the cultural framework of your own country, you are living in your own distinct subculture GIVEN to you because of your race. To not feel AFRICAN-American or NIGERIAN-French, but to feel simply “French” or “American”. To feel that you, too, are part of the national culture.

French flag

American flag

I guess ignorance IS bliss. KFC should now stand for “keep feeling content”.

I shall not fail to admit, though, that living abroad has made me more aware and more proud of my American identity than I have ever been. Here, I am American. They might see the color of my skin, but the fact that I come from America seems to be the overarching judgment. As an American, I should:

• be abreast of the latest technology
• love to party
• be loud and slightly inconsiderate
• love hot dogs
• be fairly “easy”
• speak English – only
• know everything about my American history
• (I’m sure the list can go on forever)

And as an American, I can tell you these things:

• I miss syrup! Very few grocery stores carry it (if they do, it’s a small bottle and the only one in the store) and I have yet to find a restaurant or creperie that offers it as part of a dish.
• I am surprised at the number of people who can understand my English – apparently the French are more learned than we are
• I don’t understand this concept of having a bed and a comforter without any flat sheet in between
• Tupperware is GOOD for you and very economical – why don’t the French use it?
• The metro stations SHOULD have escalators and elevators for the handicapped – Paris is not very handicap friendly
• I am very surprised at the amount of American culture than has been exported – movies, music, food – it’s ASTOUNDING.
• Dinner should be earlier than 8:30pm – it’s just not right to wait that long
• The food here is absolutely DELICIOUS despite the lack of SHARP CHEDDAR CHEESE which is essential to my baked macaroni
• I’ve found it impossible for me to take a 5 minute shower. Sorry :-/

Interestingly enough, though, I don’t long to be at home. I’m pretty content here seeing new things, meeting new people, taking practically stress free classes. For now, this is home, and I am happy to be here for the few short months I have. I am sure though, that when May 29 rolls around, I’ll be happy to go home – to America. Because believe it or not, that is the country of my birth. I have learned all of my customs and attitudes from it, have gotten used to the luxuries that it provides, and – despite its problems – now love it as my home. I am American. When I get home, I’ll once again be reminded that I am a BLACK American. But for now, this feels good. This simplicity, this inclusiveness. Home.

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