What It Meant to Be American in Korea

Interestingly, my American identity wasn’t as noticeable in everyday interactions off campus with locals. At a store or in a taxi, I might be asked where I’m from, and the response was often something like, “Oh, I know where Harvard is,” or, “I’ve heard of the Red Sox.” These interactions were brief and usually lighthearted.

The place where my Americanness felt most visible, however, was on campus-– while trying to make new friends and participating in class discussions.

While my home university is quite diverse, this was the first time I had interacted so closely with many people who hadn’t spent a significant portion of their lives in the U.S. Because the U.S. is constantly covered in international media, many conversations I had with non-American exchange students naturally drifted toward discussions about American society and global perceptions of it.

Very quickly, I realized that, in some spaces, I had become a point of reference for the U.S. While I understand that it isn’t often that non-Americans get to discuss these topics directly with an American, it was unexpectedly exhausting to feel as though I was being viewed less as an individual and more as a representative of my country.

I also became more aware of stereotypes that exist about Americans. This was the first time I had heard some of these perspectives expressed so directly. Rather than trying to defend myself, I chose to listen and understand where they were coming from. Still, feeling like I was constantly being measured against a generalized idea of “an American” made me more conscious of how I spoke, acted, and showed up in spaces. 

Being one of the few Americans in the room wasn’t always tiring. At times, it created meaningful opportunities for clarification and exchange. One of my favorite classes I took was called “Cross-Cultural Understanding of English-Speaking Cultures. ” I initially took it because I assumed it would be an easy course for an American. The course focused on how American history, culture, and values can be taught in international classroom settings.

We discussed everything from foundational historical texts like the Declaration of Independence to modern cultural expressions and broader questions about what it means to be American– and how that definition has changed over time. I was one of only two Americans in the class.

During small group discussions, I often tried to speak last-– not because I had the “correct” answer, but because I could draw from my lived experience growing up in the U.S. I recognized that some questions around protest, national symbols, or cultural expression might be difficult to fully grasp if those conversations weren’t common in one’s home country.

Instead of framing discussions solely around the U.S., I found it more meaningful to turn the questions back to my classmates: What happens during your national anthem? How would people react if someone chose not to participate? Would it be seen as a protest or as disrespect? Reframing the conversation this way made discussions more engaging and helped me learn more about my classmates’ countries and perspectives. It also created a space where curiosity felt mutual rather than one-sided.

I think this distinction-– between questions asked out of genuine curiosity versus those rooted in assumption-– shaped how I experienced my identity abroad. While these conversations were sometimes uncomfortable, they were also an unavoidable part of being in an international academic environment.

Outside of these moments, I was fortunate not to have any extremely negative experiences related to my identity in Seoul. Compared to the warnings I had seen online about foreigners being refused service in restaurants and stores, I didn’t personally experience situations like that. What may have helped was learning to take things with a grain of salt. Rather than walking around with fear-– which I did during my first time in Seoul–- I intentionally pushed myself into new spaces.

Approaching interactions with a positive attitude, basic Korean language skills, and an awareness of how I presented myself often went a long way. In many cases, these efforts were met with kindness and patience.

There was one moment at Namdaemun Market when an older woman overheard my friend and me speaking English and began chanting a song that was meant to reference Americans in a negative way. While it caught us off guard, we laughed it off and kept walking, choosing not to let a single interaction shape how we viewed the city or its people.

I know this isn't going to be everyone’s experience, and in many ways, I may have been lucky. Still, navigating identity abroad taught me how fluid identity can be– and how much it shifts depending on context. More than anything, it pushed me to listen more, reflect deeper, and better understand how people come to see the world the way they do.