Over the past few months, there have been frequent reminders of the privilege that comes with being an American student in another country. The most obvious example of this is the amount of help we are receiving from Duke in the forms of mentorship, logistical support, and financial support, and the impacts that this has on our experience here—there are many standard difficulties and considerations of everyday life that we don’t really have to worry about because they have already been sorted out for us. We are here in Jordan in the first place because we come from a place of privilege that has given us access to this opportunity; and now that we are here, we are incredibly privileged to be taken care of and provided with resources that allow us to live incredibly comfortably.
But outside of the obvious privilege of coming here with all the resources provided for a Duke-curated program, there have also been other moments in which our privilege became evident in ways that I hadn’t necessarily anticipated prior to arriving in Jordan.
The first time we left Amman, we were stopped multiple times by police. On both occasions after our driver shared his papers, the police realized that there were foreigners in the car, and instead of asking us for our papers they let us move along.
Before coming to Jordan, I had thought a bit about how the fact that I am white would impact my experience: I figured that it would have a different impact on my life than it does in America—Jordan is not a nation run by white people, and I knew that I’d stick out a bit more than I’m used to. What I had failed to consider was the fact that because I am visibly foreign, I am often presumed American; and in many countries, carrying an American passport is a significant source of privilege.
We chose to ride the bus home from that trip out of Amman. The bus route began near a major border crossing between Jordan and the West Bank and ended in the heart of Amman, so I expected for us to be stopped by police again along the way for security reasons. Sure enough, as soon as I started to fall asleep I felt the bus slow down and pull over to the side of the highway. A police officer boarded the bus and began asking to see people’s papers. The driver and a few Jordanian passengers showed theirs. Then it was one of my friends’ turns. He presented his American passport, and even though most of the bus had not been checked yet, the police officer got off the bus and let us go on our way.
I knew before coming here that American documents are a powerful thing, but I was surprised to see that have an impact on my everyday life. And as a white American, I know that I will always experience this country in a way that is shaped by my foreignness, and by the status that being American brings.