The clothes we wear

As I was doing my daily bike ride this morning, I passed by an apartment complex just outside of UTSA and saw a young male student walking to school.  He looked Middle Eastern or Indian, partly because of his facial features, but mostly because of his clothes.  He was wearing a long, flowing, off-white robe or tunic along with pants and a small, circular thing on top of his head.  My cosmopolitan friends would be able say much more about this person, based on his clothing, but my expertise in this subject is almost non-existent.  I’m from the Alan Jackson School of Foreign Policy – in his most popular song, he sings that he has a hard time distinguishing between Iran and Iraq.

Seeing this young man, I thought it must be hard for him to fit in.  But the more I thought about it, I wondered if “fit in” was the same thing as “blend in,” and, if so, is that what America expects of its immigrants?  Historically, I think it does.

America has thought of itself as a melting pot for immigrants since the 1780s, and although this concept has been challenged since the 1970s by multiculturalism proponents, it remains a bedrock value in America.  Lady Liberty to the contrary, Americans have a long tradition of treating immigrants who refuse to blend in as second-class citizens.

As a European-American born in America, I have the luxury of easily blending in to most situations, but I also have some experience in feeling ostracized.  When I was in college in North Dakota in the early 70s, I was enrolled in Army ROTC and one of our obligations was to wear an Army uniform one day a week.  At that time, service in the Army was not as esteemed as it is today, especially on the college campuses.  Paradoxically, those in the Army were considered to be pawns for the materialistic establishment, while those who ridiculed the military were considered to be conscientious and moral.  Because I was insecure and under the influence of the prevailing campus thinking, on uniform day I would often take back routes to classes and change out of my uniform as soon as possible.

I hope the young man in the tunic/robe isn’t as insecure as I was.  I hope he feels proud of what his clothing reflects about him.  And I hope he feels free to get into the melting pot whenever he wants.