Assimilation

I don’t really know how much of a Swede I am. I mean, here I am, expressing that in English. I suppose that I can never be a Swede in the physical sense but in the realms of how a Swede is I can say I adhere to their ways. Comportment, attitudes, certain values and manners to name a few aspects of the sentient parameters of the Swedish ens are indeed well ingrained in my constitution.

It’s hard to explain. Perhaps am not even that assimilated but I adjust my manner of being to theirs so as to smoothly transit through their existential flow. After all, the old adage of When in Rome do as the Romans do applies because in order to be able to be in the midst of the culture one has to bend internal rules of behaviour to conform to local customs.

Yet this is only when I interact with Swedes. Am I Swede in other situations that don’t require the presence of a Swede to monitor my Swedishness?

That is the crux of the matter. Hence my conundrum. Do I conduct myself in a Swedish manner outside the influence of the physical Swede? And is there an example of it so that I can postulate it here?

I suppose that I could argue that in order to be able to be ready I must practice before hand any given situation that might arise. I must prepare dialogue before it even happens. But that still doesn’t give evidence of quiddity.

I suppose that the best evidence I can give is by denial. By affirming that which I am not. I am not Mexican when I walk the forest. I am not Xicano when I suppress my interior emotions, when I hold in check that which I would otherwise do. I am not American when I control my voice so as to not give hint of emotions. All this in order to fuse with my milieu so as to fluently as possible, not disturb the environment.

That’s when I am a Swede at best.

Como dicen en mi paí­s: Calladito te miras más bonito.