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Braziliamerican’s Log

When we moved to the U.S.A. in 1987 we went to live in West Milford. It was a small town, in the high mountains between New Jersey and New York, with pretty small houses and gardens that looked frightfully similar to each other. Very shortly I realized that not just the scene, but also people’s regard for each other, from fireman to company’s president, were different from what I was used to. It was subtle, but it was there.
I had never being in a place where people were so independent from each other. It is difficult to explain, I could sense that better than I can explain it. It was a relaxed way of dealing, not with higher authorities or bosses themselves, but with freedom from fear of them. It sounds more dramatic than it is, and I do not mean that Brazilians or Latinos feel fear of all authorities all the time. It looks like a good change but I felt surprised and lightly depressed.
One problem with more independence and freedom is that people are less friendly also. Maybe, Latin people think it wise to be in everybody’s good graces, just in case, and the Americans do not feel this pressure exactly because they have so many choices when it comes from earning their survival. Maybe it is just ingrained in the culture by now.
Another problem, and this is difficult to confess, especially from a girl who used to be proud to be called a leftist: _ I felt humiliated with my lack of largeness of heart. It is hard to have to realize that in truth, all that talk of being equal was just an abstraction for humanity and not real yearning.

Quando nos mudamos para os EUA em 1987 eu fui morar numa cidadezinha no alto das montanhas entre Nova Jersey e Nova York, um lugar típico americano onde todas as casinhas me pareciam iguais, com jardinzinhos bonitinhos e assustadoramente iguais. Quando me dei conta de que tudo era muito igual, inclusive a importância das pessoas, de bombeiro a presidente de empresa me senti surpresa e levemente deprimida.
Isso é difícil de confessar, principalmente de uma menina que se orgulhava de ter sido de esquerda no Brasil. Senti-me humilhada com a minha falta de grandeza e desprendimento.
Nós vínhamos de 4 anos no México, onde nos acreditávamos parte de uma elite intelectual, sofisticada, viajada. Acreditávamos nisso plenamente, mas era o tipo de crença que fica na tagarelice mental, não totalmente inconsciente e nem totalmente consciente. Eventualmente nos acostumamos, mas eu, na prática não tinha gostado nada de não ser enaltecida pela minha lógica brilhante ou pela posição do meu marido.