Some of the first questions I usually get when I introduce myself here are: “Why are you here?” and “How do you even know French?” Wherever I go, and whomever I meet, my reputation precedes me.

After having spent most of my 20 years quite settled, in Houston and then in Evanston, I had grown quite complacent with my own sense of identity. I was Lisa, the sarcastic NU student, a music lover and a dancer with a sore spot for comedies featuring Will Farrell. Then, I went abroad.

Now, I am an American, more specifically, a Texan, studying chemical engineering for a year in France. Never before have I been so aware of my background or my origins. Before, most of the people I knew had the same background as I: something-generation kid, born and raised in sometown-USA, nothing special about it, that is how it is. Now, when people hear the A word (américaine), they perk up, consult me on pop culture, and somehow all know my name. I’m getting good at predicting questions, and extinguishing silly American stereotypes before they spread like wildfire about my French friends. I have innocently stumbled into the position of Ambassador for my tiny niche of Strasbourg, France, and I am slowly rising to the occasion.

So join me, as I try to find that balance, recover my sense of self and find a sense of identity.